The Seven Spell
Story three in the series
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The Seven Spell
A Seven Spell Story (three)
Re-edited, re-covered, re-formatted for all new e-readers and kindles, this is not a new story and was formerly published as The Seven Spell book three of the Seven Spell saga
Copyright 2013 T Stokes
The moral right of the author has been asserted
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights are reserved worldwide.
All covers designed and produced by T Stokes copyright 2013 all rights reserved worldwide
The Seven Spell
It had been a number of weeks since we had accidentally freed Tristan from the stained glass roundel that he had been consigned to by Aristide. We were sitting in the big kitchen of my house, all three of us, with Tristan and Oliver drinking coffee, enjoying each other’s company. We were still elated to have Tristan back with us. Oliver suddenly took out his cell phone and called the Glazers.
He looked at his coffee cup as he was speaking, moving it around with his left hand, as he held his cell phone with the other.
Having reached Joshua Glazer, he asked to have the roundel made again, explaining that it was the one he had ordered with the angel in blue in the middle of two knights.
Both Tristan and I looked at each other smiling and giving each other knowing looks, and when Oliver ended the call, he caught sight of this.
“Well you two, we do keep saying we’ll have it done. We haven’t gotten around to it, and I have to get it remade because I liked it, but also something tells me that’s the best thing to do. Chloe, you still have the pieces in Tristan’s box so you can’t pretend you’re not attached to the thing too.”
He laughed then, and both Tristan and I joined in for a few seconds.
Tristan stopped laughing and grew serious saying, “Just as long as you are doing it for aesthetic and sentimental reasons and not as some kind of safeguard from hocus-pocus.”
I grinned at Oliver when Tristan said this and he grinned too.
Then Tristan continued, “You don’t think Aristide will discover I’m still kicking around the estates do you? How could he, unless the twins told him, I think that unlikely. They are still convinced I went to Cornwall. There’s nothing to make them think of talking about me to him. Not to mention they’re not due to visit their mother for another six months, so no likelihood of running into him or Rene.” He took a deep breath and shook his head at both of us. “I’m growing tired of ducking one Magus or another.” Tristan was smiling then, but I knew he was tired of it because there was a very serious tone to his voice as he finished speaking.
I was about to voice my opinion when Tristan’s cell phone rang. He answered, began frowning, and a look of total disbelief came onto his face.
“Sorry, sorry, Ivy please slow down. What’s happening? Well when did he come into the museum, and what did you say he is wearing. Really, and you don’t understand him. Diane speaks French. She doesn’t, that’s strange. Okay, okay, I’ll come over, right now, try to be calm, what’s he doing, give him something to eat and drink. Right now, I’m on my way.”
Tristan put his phone in his pocket, looked at us, and said, “You’re not going to believe this,” but you know we would, and we did.
“There’s a guy just come into the abbey museum café speaking a weird French language, says Diane, and he is dressed in what Ivy calls a ‘medieval outfit.’ He’s acting weird, sort of scared but aggressive and shouting. They don’t know what he’s saying. He ran out and then in again a few minutes later still carrying on. I’m going over there now to deal with it, so anyone else up for sorting out this problem with me?”
He didn’t have to ask twice. Both Oliver and I were on our feet as an answer.
We got into my Wrangler as Tristan’s truck still had the springs coming out of the back seat of the dual cab. We might be immortal, but who wants a spring in their backside? As I drove, Oliver was asking what Tristan made of this event.
“Well it could be a drunk dropped in from somewhere, but who knows why he would be in medieval attire, unless there’s a circus or something in town. Maybe it’s someone who’s a bit deranged. He’s speaking French that Diane doesn’t understand which is weird because she’d been speaking it for many years. Seriously, I’ve no idea what’s going on.”
It was no distance to the abbey museum car park and we were there. I parked close to the entrance. The place didn’t have many customers yet today. The summer school holidays were virtually over and many tourists were heading home to prepare for the new school year so maybe that accounted for it.
We walked into the cafe following close on Tristan’s heels.
Ivy was running towards us as we went through the door of the gift shop area.
“Mr. Dearing, Tristan, he’s gone. He went towards the abbey ruins carrying on in his language. We tried to give him coffee and a sandwich, but he seemed scared of us and ran off. Diane followed him. She was still trying to speak to him, and she saw him run into the ruins.” Ivy was clearly upset, and Diane came back into the café just as she finished speaking.
“Tristan, he’s in the abbey ruins and he’s hiding in the crypt area. I followed him to the top of the stairs there, and then I changed my mind and went onto the walkway over the top of it. He’s cowering at the far end where the little altar is, under the crucifix stone set in the wall. I can’t make head or tail of what he’s saying, sorry.” Her own soft West Country accent was stronger than usual as she completed the sentence, obviously distressed.
Tristan looking concerned, said thanks to Ivy and Diane, and told them not to worry, if the man came back before he got back himself, to phone right away.
We set off at almost a jog to the part of the abbey where the crypt with the chapel at the end was situated.
We slowed to a walk as we perused the ruins ahead of us for any sign of the man.
As we got close to the crypt building, we could hear a crying sound. Tristan stopped walking and looked back at Oliver and me, as we walked slightly behind him, since he walks so fast.
“Sounds like he’s very upset and in the same place Diane last saw him. That end of the crypt has great acoustics. I think it may scare him if he sees all of us, so how about you two silently watch from the walkway, and if he runs, try to head him to me. He will have to come up the stairs by the entrance to the walkway. There is no other way out of the crypt.”
Oliver and I nodded and we stopped walking with Tristan and detoured into the walkway door. This was a fantastic archway, in Romanesque style. The rows of carvings very worn, naturally, but still very beautiful included, knights and angels, and knights on horses.
Tristan went down the stairs to the right of us.
Oliver was already looking over the glass barrier of the walkway and I looked in the same direction. The poor guy was there, but you could only see his back hunched over, as he crouched in front of the crucifix stone, that was set in the ancient wall.
He was crying a little now and murmuring in his language.
Tristan passed underneath the walkway and approached the man. He was speaking in a soothing voice in the Norman French I had heard him use before, and he had his hands held out by his sides. I thought maybe to show he had no sword or other weapon with which to hurt the poor man.
Our quarry stood up on hearing Tristan, and amazingly ran to him calling out. Amongst the words, I heard Tristan’s surname, Dearing. At Tristan’s feet, the man fell to his knees, and although Tristan tried to get him up, he stayed there sort of weeping and hanging onto Tristan’s hands.
Oliver called, and not loudly, “Tristan, can we help in any way?”
The man looked up and stood up then. Tristan spoke to him, and held him by the forearm.
Looking back at us Tristan called, “You’re not going to believe this.” Naturally, I knew we would. “Poor Gui, that’s his name, went down to the waterfall pool to collect Matin, who has been galloping off down there any chance he gets, and suddenly found himself without Matin, but the castle and the abbey in ruins.”
Oliver looked at me, and I looked at him and shrugged, because sure, it was incredible, but I believed it.
“Who’s Matin?” Oliver asked.
“Tristan’s horse, well he was back in the eleven hundred’s, one of his horses.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows and then looked back at Tristan as he said to me, “So this guy has time traveled, is that it?”
“That’s about it, Oliver,” I replied adding, “How he did it is the question.”
Tristan was coming along the length of the crypt with Gui, holding him by the arm, and talking to him in a low voice.
As they passed underneath us and started up the steps to the footpath outside, Oliver and I turned and went out to meet them.
The man was shrinking a little away and sort of bowing, as Tristan spoke to him and then us.
“I introduced you two as my very best friends, and as part of my present household. This poor devil is scared to death, understandably, luckily I know him. I don’t know him well, but he looked after two of my horses for a couple of years. He knows me, naturally, as the son of Sir Edmund, and as one of his masters, so to speak. Sorry. Anyway, I’m bringing him home to the Dearing place. There’s nothing else I can do until we figure out what’s going on. I don’t think he will run, but if he does you are going to have to help me catch him.”
“Sure,” I said, and Oliver sort of groaned. I looked at him and he half smiled.
I smiled at the man called Gui. He was young. I thought he may only be about nineteen, but here he was bowing and so on to people who were his own age, and a bit younger in my case. He looked at me with wary eyes as I continued to smile at him, and Oliver stepped towards him and offered his hand.
Gui looked at it and then at Tristan.
“He doesn’t know what to do, so watch out he may kiss your hand there, Oliver,” Tristan told him, and Oliver pulled his hand back sharply.
We walked up to the café and took Gui in there. Tristan got him to sit down, as Ivy brought him sandwiches, coffee, and some water. Tristan told him to eat and drink, and then sat next to him. Oliver and I sat down too.
Tristan said, “Gui has been running around all night, almost mad, back and forth looking for the castle, back to the waterfall, and again amongst the abbey ruins. He fell asleep in the crypt for a few hours, and then ran around again, only this time to find the abbey café and shop open. It appears he had followed Matin to the waterfall pool where the horse had been bolting to any time it could. The horse had been drinking at the pool and he had run to it, just as he was about to grab the reins, Matin took off, and he fell in the edge of the pool. When he got out it was to find the castle gone, no Matin, the whole landscape changed, and the abbey in ruins. It’s a wonder he didn’t run further afield, but he kept thinking he would find things back the way they were, that he had perhaps been in a dream. Who can blame him? What the hell is going on this time, I ask you?”
Tristan looked exasperated, and his blue eyes sparkled.
I smiled at him he was so gorgeous.
Oliver leaned over and said, “Tristan, watch out, Ivy is hovering about, she may hear you. We need to think of a cover story for this, not just for her, but for everyone, don’t you agree?”
Tristan looked around sharply to check if anyone might have heard. “I agree, sorry Oliver, I just didn’t think. He spoke more quietly.
Gui had started to shrink back a little in his chair and I looked kindly at him, and nudged Tristan so that he turned his attention back on the poor guy.
Tristan talked to him again, and Gui seemed a little happier. Tristan stood up then and he immediately did the same. We all did in fact, and I had to smile to myself at how Tristan could so easily adopt his title and privilege when he needed to.
“Right then, we are taking him to the Dearing stables. I’ve told him that he must be in my service until we find out what has happened at the castle, and that I’ll send word to them. I’ve made him think that he has wandered into another estate of mine and it has a ruined abbey. That the people on this estate speak a dialect of Old English that he might not have heard before. There were many in his time so this will be plausible for him. There’s an apartment at the back of the stables, and I’ll ask him to live there. He’ll do it because I’m his lord. I need to sort him out some clothes, and ask the others not to park any vehicles in the yard for a while. He more than likely will freak out a few times until he gets used to being in this time. What a pest, sorry, I do feel sorry for him, but I can do without babysitting.” Tristan finished speaking with a sigh, and after he said something else to Gui, we all walked to the front of the café.
“Tristan, he may have seen vehicles already, and how do we get him to the stables other than in the Wrangler?” I asked, as we stood there on the path in a group.
“Bloody hell,” Tristan said. “Okay I’ll tell him that vehicles go like boats on the water, wind pushes them, only on land.”
Oliver started laughing, and I elbowed him to stop as he was by my side, but it was infectious, and I started to laugh too. I was looking at Tristan’s face and saw him try not to laugh, lose the battle and laugh too. Gui was looking at us as if we were mad but had a tiny smile on his face. Who knows what was going on in his mind?
We approached the Wrangler and Tristan was steering Gui at it and talking to him. Oliver sat in the front passenger seat, and Tristan pushed Gui into the back seat and sat next to him. I started the engine and got on with driving because as I saw it, the sooner we got him to a stable and horse the better.
I looked at Gui in the rear view mirror, and could see he was afraid. I felt sad for him and hoped we could figure out a way to get him back to his own time soon, although, I thought, that’s going to depend on if we can figure out how he got to this time. I sighed. Oliver heard me and put his hand on my arm across the transmission. I glanced at him and he looked lovingly at me.http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004KZOPUW $2.99
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