Authors: Susanna Kearsley
"Aye," repeated David, as if talking to an idiot. I thought
I caught the barest glimmer of a smile behind his blue eyes as he watched Adrian's reaction, but the rest of his face stayed exactly the same and I might have been mistaken.
"Well then." Adrian tossed his beer back quickly, as though he needed it. "Well then, I don't suppose that talking to this ghost would do us any harm."
"We're all decided? Right." David levered away from the back of the bench and leaned his elbows on the table, fixing us all with a satisfied, purposeful eye. "Then here's what we'll need to do."
XVIII
We must have looked a motley little crew, assembling on the hill behind the stables in the still watch of the night. Eleven o'clock had been the hour fixed as our gathering-time, but it was very nearly half-past before we were properly organized. Fabia was the last to arrive.
"That's it, then," she said, breathless after hurrying up the gentle grassy slope from the darkened house. "He's asleep, I checked. We should be in the clear."
"Good." David cast a quick, assessing eye around the group of us. "Now where the devil's Adrian?"
"I'm right here," Adrian replied, emerging from the shadowy cluster of trees that screened the farther field from view. Kip came with him, padding lightly over the soft thick grass and fallen branches, dark eyes gleaming with reflected moonlight.
The end of Wally's cigarette glowed red against the stable wall. "Best get on with it," the old man advised, "and let the laddie hie hisself to bed.''
Robbie, with the legs of his pajamas tucked deep into his wellies and one of his father's jackets drooping to his knees, cheerfully assured his grandfather there was no need to hurry. "I don't have to go to school tomorrow."
"Oh, aye?" Wally raised an eyebrow. "Whae's tolt ye that?"
"Mum said."
"He'll be wanting a long lie, the morn," Jeannie defended her decision, "and it's only the one day."
Fabia shifted, impatient. "Are we ready to do this, then? Davy?"
"Aye." David flashed a torch upon his wristwatch, sent a final, searching glance in the direction of the slumbering, square-walled house, and motioned to Robbie. "We can't stay here," he said, "we might wake Peter with our talking. Can you lead us on a little further, just where the Sentinel walks?"
Robbie nodded. "He goes this way."
It was easy to follow the small bouncing figure in the oversized coat as he headed east along the narrow line of ridge that marked the boundary of the great deserted field. The moon hanging bright in the midnight sky lit everything plainly, and I could see the patchwork spread of other fields falling off to my left and fading in a ragged fringe of trees that stood up blackly in the distance.
The wind had died to a whispering kiss and the clouds had dissolved to the odd floating wisp of dark gray that passed over the nearly full moon, sending furtive shadows scurrying across the empty fields in search of cover.
A larger shadow scuttled past and I caught my breath, but it was only Kip.
"Boo," said Adrian, by my shoulder.
I called him something rather rude. Beside me, Fabia stopped walking.
"Look, this is far enough, surely," she said, hunching into her jacket. "Davy, isn't this far enough?"
He agreed that it probably was. We'd come roughly a quarter of the way across the field, fully one hundred yards from the house. There was little chance of Peter hearing us from here, unless we shouted.
"Perfect night for ghost-spotting," said Adrian, as he flung himself full length upon the grass. "Pass me my flask, will you, Verity love? Or have you drained it already?''
"I only had a taste." I rummaged for the leather-covered bottle. "Vile stuff, that."
"Yes, well, Russian wine is not exactly noted for its subtlety," he told me, taking a healthy swig.
Jeannie smiled. "A gift from Brian, was it?"
"Not exactly a gift. I paid him ten pounds for the case, I think." He rolled his head sideways to grin at her. "Not that I recall the deal too clearly. We'd already downed a bottle between us by then." He offered the flask around, but Fabia was the only one brave enough to accept. She gave a little choking cough and passed it back.
"God." She grimaced. "That is terrible." Pushing the tumbled hair out of her eyes, she drew her knees up and rested her chin on her hands. "I was just thinking, we don't really know that this ghost is roaming about at night, do we? I mean, Robbie's only seen him in the daytime."
"That's true," said Jeannie, sagely. "But it does seem rather a safe bet..."
"Ghosts always prowl at midnight," Adrian cut in, with smooth authority. "Didn't you watch films at all, when you were growing up?"
"He'll be here," Wally said. His voice was simple, calmly knowing. “He walks by night as well as by day. Just ye ask yon dog."
I looked to where the collie lay sprawled out upon the grass, head up, ears perked, and I remembered it would probably be Wally who took Kip out late at night, when Robbie was in bed. Perhaps Wally had seen what I had seen—the collie dancing at the heels of an invisible companion, begging to be patted, broad tail waving. It was a sight one didn't soon forget.
Something, some animal, scuttled through the rough grass and Kip gave an eager whine, but Wally's hand reached out to keep the collie still. My own gaze moved from the waiting dog to the old man's moonlit profile, and I rubbed my leg with a thoughtful hand. "Do you believe in ghosts, Wally?"
His shrug was noncommittal. "Depends."
"You're all daft," Adrian pronounced his judgment lazily,
leaning back on his elbows. "A ghost is merely a projection of a less than stable mind."
David's voice came quietly. "Is that a fact?"
"It is. Christ, I've been working here two months now, puttering about this field with my equipment, and I think I would have noticed anything out of the ordi—"
"Salve,''
Robbie said.
He was sitting close beside me, near my feet, and the sudden sound of his small voice made me jump. Just as suddenly, he turned around and showed me a brilliant grin. "Hey, it works!"
My throat worked for a moment before the words found their way out. "That's wonderful, Robbie. Where is he?"
I wouldn't have believed my voice could sound so calm, when I was anything but calm inside. My nerves were thrashing wildly, like a netted bird, and my heartbeat pulsed a hard and rapid rhythm in my throat. It was one thing to come up with the idea of talking to the Sentinel, I thought, but my bravado shriveled with the knowledge that our ghost was standing right in front of us.
"Right there," said Robbie, pointing to the vacant air.
David slid the few feet down the slope to join us, coming to an abrupt stop directly behind me and steadying himself with a hand on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of him through the thick folds of my jumper, but I don't believe he even noticed the touch. Above my head, he watched the darkness steadily. "Say
'salve custos,'
Robbie," he instructed.
"What's
custos?"
"Sentinel."
We were all silent now, leaning slightly forward in anticipation as Robbie dutifully repeated the words. I counted my heartbeats ... one ... two ... before the boy turned around a second time, his eyes going over my head, seeking David's. "He's not saying anything, but he's smiling. He's looking at you, now."
"Is he, by God?" David frowned a moment at the nothingness, then raising his voice he explained in perfect Latin
that we couldn't see or hear our long-dead visitor; he would have to talk through Robbie.
"Now, Robbie," David murmured, "if he says anything, if he makes a sound, you repeat it, all right? Like a parrot."
"All right."
David nudged my shoulder. "Go on, then," he invited me. "It's your party. You ask the first question."
Fabia, who'd been holding her breath all this time, let it out again in a swift, expectant rush. "Ask him," she hissed, "if he knows he's a ghost."
Adrian ventured dryly that, after walking the same field for several hundred years, a person must surely begin to suspect...
Turning, I sent him a withering look.
"Will
you be serious?"
Adrian rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. You're talking to thin air, and I'm meant to be serious."
I opened my mouth to respond but the big hand on my shoulder lightened warningly, cutting me off, at the same moment Jeannie breathed an urgent whisper: "Verity!"
"What?" I brought my head back round, and saw what had alarmed them.
The Sentinel had moved.
Robbie, beside me, was watching the air not two feet from my face. I drew a sharp breath and then found that I couldn't breathe out again, so I swallowed instead. "Robbie," I said cautiously, afraid to move a muscle, "what is he doing?"
"He's kind of crouched down," came the reply, "to sec you better, like. Now he's reaching out his hand, I think he wants to touch your hair."
David swore softly, the word brushing warm down the back of my neck. I might have imagined the ghost's gentle touch and the sweeping thrill of cold—I'd always had a rather wild imagination. But it didn't stop me shivering.
Adrian, unconvinced, raised the wine flask for another drink. "Go on, then, Verity, my love. Here's your chance to clear up one of history's little mysteries. Ask your friend what legion he belonged to."
He meant it in jest, of course, but I found my voice and asked the question anyway.
The night gave no reply. And Robbie, if he heard an answer, didn't pass it on. Instead he scrambled to his feet, staring uncertainly into the darkness. Behind him, Kip whined sharply, struggling to break free of Wally's hold, but Robbie didn't seem to hear that, either. Slowly, as though following another's gaze, he turned his head and looked toward the house.
The windows were no longer dark. Lights blazed in both the kitchen and the upstairs hall, and even as I registered the fact a small familiar sound came echoing across the field— the sound of someone starting up a car. The motor coughed, and caught, and purred; was pushed till it became a roar, and two clear yellow headlights plunged between the trees that fringed the drive.
The headlights struck the red walls of Rose Cottage and sharply wheeled away again as the car spun out into the road with a panicked shriek of brakes.
"He's going," said Robbie, urgently. "Davy, he's going. He's .. ."
He didn't finish. His large eyes swung toward us, suddenly anguished, and even as Jeannie leapt forward to catch him, he crumpled like a broken doll and fell face-down upon the grass.
"It's all right," said Jeannie, lifting him gently. "He's only had a vision, he'll be fine." But her face, in the cold moonlight, didn't look so self-assured.
Adrian, in his typically selfish fashion, had noticed only one thing. "That was my car," he burst out, indignantly. "The bloody bastard took my car!" And then he turned and sprinted for the house, and the rest of us, after an exchange of glances, followed.
On the level sweep of gravel at the top of the drive, we found Brian McMorran brushing off his trousers. "Crazy bugger," he said sourly. "Nearly ran me over."
Fabia stared at him, disbelieving. "It wasn't Peter, surely?"
"He took my car," Adrian repeated, bleakly, his eyes
fixed on the empty square of gravel where the bright red Jaguar should have been.
Wally eyed his son-in-law suspiciously. "What d'ye think yer doing, then, coming home at this hour?"
Straightening, Brian raked a hand through his silver hair and laughed lightly, without humor. "If I'd known this was the welcome I'd get, I'd have stopped the night in town," he told us. He fished in his pocket for his cigarettes and lit one, lifting an eyebrow at Jeannie above the brief flame of the match. "I might ask the same of you, at any rate—the cottage was empty when I got here."
"We were out in the field," she answered.
"In the—?" He broke off, seeming for the first time to notice Robbie's condition, and his lips compressed impatiently. "Aw, bloody hell, you've not been after the ghost? Where's your head, woman? Give him here." The tattooed arms closed protectively around the little boy. "You've been putting a strain on him, can't you see?"
Jeannie set her jaw in self-defence. "He wanted to help Peter," she explained. "And it wasn't the ghost that made him faint. He saw something else, something ..,"
Robbie stirred at the sound of his mother's voice. "Granny Nan," he mumbled, weakly. "Davy, Granny Nan. . .you have to go."
In the sudden silence, David leaned in closer, his jaw tightening. "Go where, lad?"
"Hospital..."
"Oh, Jesus." David straightened and wheeled, his eyes darkening. "Fabia, get me the keys to the Range Rover."
"But Davy .. ."
"Just do it," he snapped.
Robbie, in his father's arms, slipped back into delirium. Even after David had gone, when the taillights of the Range Rover were faint receding points of red, the boy kept calling out to him. “Davy . . . Davy ... Granny Nan. Must help, must... nona ..."
"What was that?" Startled, I turned. "Robbie, what did you—"
"Leave the boy be." Brian gathered his son closer, staring
me down with contempt. "He didn't say nothing, just leave him alone."
But I knew what I'd heard.
"Nona"—that's what Robbie had said. It was, I fancied, a belated answer to the question I had asked the Sentinel, before the boy collapsed.
Which is your legion?
I had asked.
And
nona
was the Latin word for "Ninth."