Garnet And Gold

Chapter 8

“What you should understand,” Dr Fitzwilliam crossed her long legs and shuffled deeper in her easy chair, “is that hypnosis is an exercise that builds rapport between your conscious and unconscious mind.”

Basically, what she was asking him to do, thought Rick, was to wilfully suspend his disbelief. Wasn’t hypnosis for gullible people?

The psychiatrist peered over her glasses and anticipated his objections.

“Rick, from what you’ve told me, your situation is worsening. Several aspects of your life are being compromised by the worry you are carrying on your shoulders. My proposal for hypnotherapy is well considered. The techniques are orthodox medical practices and they work better with imaginative people rather than with the credulous.”

“Do you think my case is suitable for this treatment?” It was hard to keep the scepticism out of his voice. Besides, Rick did not like letting go of mental control.

“I’m certain of it. We can fix a single objective, that of weight release. One session might well be enough. Let me explain the procedure carefully to you.”

The doctor explained how the subconscious works and that everything would be conducted in an awakened state. She insisted it would be a relaxing and pleasurable experience.

Rick did not remember giving his consent but must have done. He came out of a trance reluctantly because he felt so comfortable and warm.

“I took you to your adventure in the past, Dr Hughes, er, Rick, and now we have established that you actually lived through it, we must develop a strategy.”

erHe looked at the psychiatrist in a vain attempt to notice any change in her manner.

“You believe me, then, doctor? You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve never had a saner patient. I’ve made post-hypnotic suggestions and they will help you cope with the enormity of what has happened to you. I propose the following: go about your normal routine and do not make an appointment with me unless you feel an impelling necessity.” She smiled. “Any questions, Dr Hughes?”

“Is that it? Aren’t you going to tell me what was wrong with me?”

“Of course. If you wish to understand, your problem was simply a conflict between the conscious and unconscious mind as I explained earlier. We solved the issue together but you need time to experience the efficacy of the treatment.”

On a scale of doubt from 1 to 10, Rick was at 9 and was sure that Dr Fitzwilliam was a charlatan, taking him for a fool.

“So, what are these suggestions?”

If she heard the acid tone, she remained unflappable, “How to deal with doubts. How to cope with those of others and a strategy to address your future interactions with the problem.”

“Quite honestly, that seems little short of miraculous, doctor.”

The psychiatrist uncrossed her legs and leant forward.

“Miraculous? No, whatever we’ve achieved here today is thanks to yourself, Dr Hughes. Why don’t you go and put it into practice? But a word of warning; do not fight your initial instincts because they will be the ones to guide you correctly. It doesn’t matter what others think. Remember that advice and you will be alright.”

He paid her and left, feeling gulled. On the other hand, the asphyxiating anxiety that had gripped him recently was absent. How could he explain that except by reference to the hypnotherapy? Was it possible that the treatment had helped him? He could not remember having talked about the Little Carlton settlement but he must have done. In that case, why was the psychiatrist not perturbed? Did she take the concept of time travel with the same equanimity as serial killing?

Only at home did Rick begin to consider her ideas with any strong conviction. Had she put this new determination into his head unawares? He needed to face his demons and this would involve telling Esme the whole truth. He needed to return to Little Carlton and revisit the ninth-century settlement. He would persuade Gary to come with him. He also ought to study Time. In deciding these cardinal stratagems, he had no trace of doubt in his mind. This fact alone was a mega-leap forward. In any case, he could only undertake these attempts one by one.

So adamant was Rick that he booked a train to Lincoln, from where he took a bus to Louth. Only when he was sitting in a little restaurant on Upgate under the shadow of the parish church with its soaring spire did he phone Gary. It was Friday, so the weekend lay ahead.

“Hi, it’s Rick. What you got planned for the weekend?”

“Oh, hey! I was going to Little Carlton to do some more detecting now that there’s a dry spell.”

“Good. Can I come with you?”

“You’re joking. By the time you get here from Cambridge, it’ll be too late in the day.”

“Do you know the restaurant by St Edward’s Church in Upgate?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in there and I haven’t ordered yet. Have you eaten?”

“I’ll be right with you. Order the wine!”

Gary stared at Rick in disbelief across the table. True, they had drunk the better part of two bottles of red wine, but what his friend had just told him left Gary suddenly stone cold sober.

“You mean to tell me your shrink believes you! Come on, Rick, nobody in their right mind–”

“She used hypnotherapy on me and she’s got more letters after her name than Hubert Blaine has in his surname.”

“Hubert Blaine?”

“Yeah, H.B. Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff –the longest surname I’ve come across.”

“Ha-ha! Very funny! But he isn’t Welsh.”

“Welsh?”

“He isn’t from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch!”

“I’m amazed you can say that after all that wine!”

“What size envelope would you need for Hubert Blaine if he lived there?”

They both laughed, drawing attention to themselves from the table of three nearby. Gary pulled a straight face and raised a hand in apology although what it cost him in restraining a gale of laughter, only Rick suspected.

“I’ve kept my side of the bargain. It’s up to you now.”

“You are seriously asking me to come back in time with you? Even if such a thing could be done! Let’s say you’re right. Didn’t they, by your account, try to kill you?”

“They did but none of us was ready for my visit. So it’ll be different this time.”

“Yeah, you’re going to take an automatic pistol with you, right?”

“Don’t be daft. I’ve got a plan. It’ll be all right.”

“You’re asking me to swallow rather a lot, my friend.”

“You made a promise, Gary, and seeing as you don’t believe me, what’s there to lose? Just humour me. All I need is for you to wear Anglo-Saxon clothes for one day. Is that so much to ask?”

“I suppose not. But if we don’t go back in time, I want to hear no more of this nonsense.”

“Done!” Rick stuck out a hand and Gary grasped it.

The next morning, Rick placed an everyday item inside his Saxon tunic before checking on Gary’s Saxon dress. Ready they drove to Little Carlton but when they arrived, they found the re-enactment houses had been dismantled and Rick gazed in awe at nothing more than a ploughed field.

“There’s an agreement with the landowner. He’ll leave it fallow this year so a team of archaeologists from Sheffield University can begin excavation in May. That gives me plenty of weekends still to plod backwards and forwards to find whatever I can turn up. I’ll dig in a very non-invasive way, of course.”

“Sure. But before you start detecting, why not come back and witness the real thing?”

“Where do we begin?”

“Last time, I was over by the field boundary. I suggest we go there and whatever happens, happens.”

“I’ll leave my equipment in the car,” Gary said, locking the Fiesta with the remote control, which he stuffed inside his tunic.

They made their way to the edge of the field, with Gary muttering about time-wasting nonsense.

Rick crooked his right arm, “Here, link arms with me!”

As soon as he had a firm grasp on his friend, Rick thrust his left hand inside his tunic and grasped the pendant.

A voice came to him muffled as if from far away – “What’s happening?” – As though his ears were popping at a high altitude. He turned to look into Gary’s frightened face, which was rippling as if made of melting wax. But it wasn’t his face, rather the air between them. Rick turned back and once more a gap had appeared in the air, revealing the solid, distinct ground different from the rolling fathomless mist either side of the opening.

“Come on!” Rick cried and flung himself forward on the grass. As he did so, he felt Gary’s arm pull forcefully free. A few moments later, when Rick regained consciousness, he looked frantically around but there was no sign of Gary. He cursed and pondered. Was it possible that Gary had not joined him because he possessed no authentic object like his own pendant? Or had Gary simply been afraid and dodged away?

Rick had a choice to make. Go ahead with his plan, whatever the dangers, or return to Gary, who now must believe him, having seen his disappearance for himself. What did the latter gain him, over staying here? Nothing! First, he must ascertain that he was back in 870. Ideally, for his scheme to work, it would be better if 871 had begun. Judging by the wintry weather – how he needed a cloak! – it had. Feeling delicate, he rose and stared up the slope of the land. He touched the seax in his belt reassured at being armed this time; still, he hoped fighting would not be necessary. He was sure to come off worse if it came to that.

Striding out to keep warm he was delighted to make out the settlement ahead, unchanged from his last visit. The first man he came upon was splitting logs outside his door.

“Rinc,” he greeted him.

“Excuse me, friend, be not alarmed. I am not Rinc, but another with his semblance. It’s a problem for me, so I must talk to the wise man of the village. Where can I find him?”

The ceorl gazed at Rick fearfully and looked down at his axe as though he might raise it against this intruder.

“I mean no harm to anyone here – quite the opposite. I bear important news for the ears only of your wise leaders.”

“Ay, it won’t hurt. But it’s a right shock to meet another Rinc. Come on, best hurry, lest others think differently from me.”

“I’m grateful. I swear, it’s for the best.”

The stocky fellow led Rick down the road, but passing the hall suddenly drew him into the shadow of the building and bade him hide behind a water trough.

“Someone’s coming!” he hissed. “Keep down out of sight a minute or two. Easier than explaining.”

“Cuthbert,” the on-comer greeted his guide with a nod.

“Good day, Garr!”

Rick stifled a gasp. The man the other had called Garr might have been a double for Gary! What was going on? Not only was there another Esme in this village, but there was another Gary. The fellow walked with the same gait as his friend from the twenty-first century. By the time he had recovered his wits, Cuthbert was whispering to him, “Come on, stranger, yon’s the house with the bones nailed over the door.

“Eldwin!” He banged on the wood and pushed the creaking, rickety door open, “It’s Cuthbert; there’s someone here wishes to speak with you.”

“Ay, I’m expecting him! Show him in.”

Cross-legged on the floor next to a hearth containing a crackling fire sat a man wrapped so tightly in wolf pelt that only his white hair and haggard, wrinkled face emerged. Watery blue eyes gazed unseeingly in Rick’s direction.

“Come sit by me fellow, so I can see your face.”

Rick thanked his escort, who asked the old man, “Shall I stay to guard you, Eldwin?”

“No need. He comes in peace as a friend. He’s from–”

“Do not say, wise one.” Rick intervened, “They might fear what they cannot understand.”

The old man nodded his snow-coloured head, “You have the right of it. Go, Cuthbert. If anyone speaks of our visitor, tell them he is a seer.”

My plan has worked!

My plan has worked!When they were alone, Rick asked, “How did you know I’m from another time and place?”

“I am a seer. Things that are to come are no secret to me.”

“Then you will know why I decided to return?”

“How is that possible, when you do not know yourself? You bear much knowledge but you come in search of answers.”

“And advice, old man. For example, how can I stay here for a year without making the folk fear and hate me?”

“You must never tell them the whole truth. You will say you are a seer and reveal only the necessary. I will make them accept you.”

“Pray, first tell me what year this is.”

“How do you measure years, my friend?”

“By events. I believe I came here last time before Yuletide and now it is winter. Before last winter King Edmund was slain, am I right?”

“So you are.”

“Then I can prove to your people that I am a seer by recounting the events that are to come before this autumn’s harvest.”

“What can you foretell?” The watery blue eyes searched his face, alive with interest.

“I know that Prince Halfdan Wide-embrace, the Viking, will be joined by a Great Heathen Army under Jarl Bagsecg and together they will march after the Saxons. The Aetheling Alfred of Wessex will lead the English against them in a b****y battle at a place called Ashdown. His brother, King Aethelred I of Wessex, will join him, having been delayed at his prayers. The English will be victorious and many Vikings, including Jarl Bagsecg, will be killed. Unfortunately, the Battle of Martin will follow where King Aethelred will be mortally wounded. He will die soon afterwards to be succeeded by his brother, Alfred. King Alfred will fight the Danes at the Battle of Wilton and will be severely defeated. These are the first of many events I know of.”

“You know so much,” a bony hand shot out of the wolf fur and took Rick’s in a skeletal grasp. “You will share your knowledge with our lord.”

“Who is he?”

“But you, who reveal so much, do not know that!” The old man cackled joyously.

that!At that moment, the door was forced back on its ailing hinges and a tall man strode in.

“Ah, welcome, Lord Werian, we were speaking of you.”

“I met Cuthbert, who told me the stranger with the visage of Rinc had returned among us and that he was with you. What do you want of us, stranger, and what elfin magic gives you the semblance of our villager?”

“No elfin guile, Lord. I come from far away and I have the powers of a seer. My name is Rick. All I ask is that I may live and work in peace among you for a while.”

“But who is your lord?”

“I’m bound to no man.”

“How is that possible?”

Rick was nonplussed. He had not thought this through, but the old man came to his rescue.

“Our friend is a powerful seer and his gift can serve no one man. Thus, it is decreed. We are fortunate to have him among us. Tell Lord Werian what you told me earlier.”

Rick repeated his prophecy, which was simply history. The thegn listened carefully. If this is true, stranger, I must inform my Lord Burgred, King of Mercia, that he may join with King Alfred.”

prophecy“The victory will come but will not endure, Lord. King Burgred will lose his throne to the Vikings after they sack Tamworth. He will finish his days in Rome.”

“If what you say is true, what is to be done?”

“I beg you to wait on events to see that I speak the truth,” Rick said, feeling a fraud. “When I am proved right, your task will be to save this village and its people. I will show you how. Now, I must talk with a man named Garr.”

“Garr? I will send for him.”

The thegn, who had towered over the two men sitting on the floor, strode out of the small house.

“What did you say your name was, stranger?”

“Rick, not Rinc.”

“We both know it is the same thing,” said the old man. His thoughtful stare troubled Rick. “You are accepted. Do not do anything rash, my friend.”

“I will not,” Rick promised. “I believe it is in my best interests to protect the folk of this village.”

“So it is ordained.”

The conviction with which the white-haired seer said these words made the hairs on Rick’s arms rise as if static electricity had raised them. He would need to question the old man more closely and be careful not to give away the whole truth.

The door opened again with the same noise and difficulty and in walked Garr.

“Lord Werian sent me,” he stared at Rick and his mouth dropped open, “you are as alike as two peas...”

“In a pod?” Rick finished for him.

“Ay. So it is true! They say they chased Rinc’s similar through the fields last year and he vanished into the air.”

is“It is true but I do not wish to vanish this time, Garr. I’m a seer and I came to speak with your wise man and the lord of the village – and with you, Garr.”

“With me?”

“Ay, alone.”

“Go, both of you. I need to rest and think.” The old man’s statement was not a request.

Outside, Garr asked, “Well?”

“I mean you and your village only good, please believe me.”

“What do you want of me?”

“Above all, your trust, second, something personal of yours to give to a friend.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Yon leather bracelet.”

“It’s an amulet and wards off evil spirits and it is mine.”

mine“What if I tell you I have something more useful, in exchange? But you must show it to no-one and keep it for yourself. I will have you swear on it.”

The suspicion on Garr’s face made him look like a parody of Gary and Rick almost laughed aloud but thought better of it, just in time. What purpose would be served by offending his new acquaintance?

He reached inside his tunic and pulled out the common everyday object, a cigarette lighter. It was unused and on the first flick a flame sprang up.

Garr exclaimed in fear, “What magic is this?”

“It is no magic, my friend. Remember, I come from a different land where these are common. It will give fire whenever you flick the wheel, understand? But do not waste its power. Use it only if the need is great. It will scare away evil spirits in the dark. Now, will you make the exchange?”

Garr held out his hand and took the lighter, flicking the wheel. At once it lit.

“Release it to quell the flame. That’s right.”

Garr undid his bracelet and passed it to Rick, who placed it carefully inside his tunic.

“Remember, Garr, let no-one see your fire-stick.”

“I will not, for men are envious and want another’s treasure. It is the way of the world.”

“Ay, you speak the truth. I think we shall be friends.”

“Lord Werian told me to come with you to the hall when we finished with the wise man, Eldwin.”

The only carvings in the hall were simple scrolls on the doorpost and Rick made a note to copy them later into the small notebook he had brought with him. He intended to keep a diary while he was in the village. There were no hangings on the walls unless one counted a handful of painted but battle-worn shields and some crossed spears hanging on nails.

“Welcome to my home, Rick,” said the thegn, “you asked to live and work in peace among us. For this reason, I have decided to call a moot in the hall this evening. I shall present you to my people and you will tell them what you told me earlier. It is best they see you for themselves and hear your words from your mouth.”

The moot consisted of all the village folk, men, women and children, crammed into the hall facing a small dais on which the thegn stood with Rick beside him. Already people were staring and pointing at him, some with angry faces. Try as he might, Rick could not discern Rinc in their midst. He picked out Garr but neither Rinc nor Esme were near him.

“Hark!” The voice of the thegn rang out, bringing the people to silence. “Today, among us we have a seer who comes from a distant land, not to replace our beloved Eldwin, but to use his gift for our benefit. Many of you will recognise the similarity of this seer known as Rick, to our own Rinc, but this is so that we can understand that he seeks peace and fellowship among us.”

One or two angry voices interrupted Lord Werian’s discourse. “Silence !” he bellowed. “You will now listen to what Rick has to say.”

“Friends, I indeed come in peace and to vouchsafe my words, I intend to lay my reputation before you in an open way, which you can judge for yourselves. All that I want is for this village and its people to be safe. We live in dangerous times, in which the wrath of the Norsemen sweeps over the land. They destroy all before them with fire and steel, sparing none, and do not share our love of Christ, but worship idols and false gods.” Rick paused for breath to determine whether his audience followed him. It did. He continued, “I have the gift of seeing the future and will share the news of what is to happen up to next harvest.” He repeated word-for-word what he had told Eldwin. When he had finished, he added, “I can see farther into the future than one year, but I want you to test the correctness of what I have told you. Only then will I reveal the future of this island-village. That is all for now...” he waited, “...except to beg you to treat me as a friend among you.”

Raised voices in unison all over the hall made it impossible for Rick to understand whether his news and appeal had been favourably received. The thegn drew his seax, grabbed Rick by an arm and placed it as if to slit his throat. At once, silence fell in the hall as everyone craned for a better view of what was about to happen.

“What I have to say is not finished,” Lord Werian cried. “If anyone in this village dares to lay a hand on my friend Rick,” he removed the seax with a flourish for effect, “he will have me to answer to. Be off to your homes and see to your bairns.”

I Rick gasped and colour returned to his face. “For a moment there, I thought...”

“Surely not, Rick. Can a seer not foresee his own death?” The thegn roared at his jest. “What are we going to do with you? I do not see you as a warrior.”

“No, lord. I am not. But I know that here on the island are men of learning and I too can read and write.”

“Can you indeed? I wish I could. Come, let me take you to meet someone.”

The short walk to the outskirts of the village seemed to last for ages such was the strangeness to Rick. The stench from a cess pit replaced twenty-first century traffic fumes but otherwise the air was pure. He wanted to point out the red kites and tell everyone how rare they were in his day. Unless he was mistaken, they had been saved from extinction – yet here they were like vermin in the street. Reflecting on his own century, Rick thought for the first time of Gary and Esme. What would Gary make of his disappearance? He must have seen through the rent in the air to the solidity of the past. Rick cursed himself; he had kept Gary and Esme compartmentalised. They had not met and although they knew of each other, they did not have contact numbers and surnames as far as he was aware. Did that mean that if he stayed here in 871, Esme would report his disappearance in 2016 to the police? Gary would not. He was sure of that. In any case, he, Rick, had decided to stay in this, his Saxon village.