A Gathering of Twine Read online

  Thorne shrugged. “I don’t think we have any choice, Jerry.”

  Walsh looked to Lawton, who nodded. “We are all agreed then. Unanimous decision. Let’s go back in.”

  *

  [Maiden Castle Stele 18-20]

  So the Land of Sumer turned, and Riah bore both daughters and sons. The First brought forth Fulla, Honos, Freia, Niord, and Ullar.

  Freia brought forth Vana, Yam, and Gilfagin.

  Yam and Gilfagin brought forth Asa-Oku, Tyr, and Briar.

  Briar learned from Isden and was a mighty teacher. He brought forth Dallheim, Vidra, and Nanna.

  Nanna and Vidra brought forth Lopt, Syng, and Farne.

  Lopt and Nanna brought forth Order, Sorrow, and Horn.

  Horn and Nanna brought forth Silfine, Rav, and Magda. And Nanna journeyed to her sister who dwelt within Shole

  Silfine brought forth the warrior brothers Sera and Storn.

  Sera and Partholan brought forth Agnoman of the Arimaspi, great grandfather of Fiacha, and a prince and ruler of Scythia

  And all made offerings of thanks at the temple of Danu for their days were without number.

  One day, Magda returned from the borders of Nod and said unto Riah, “O Matriarch, why must I lay with my brother?”

  Riah replied “That he may give you children if he is worthy”

  “Matriarch,” continued Magda, “What if I lay with my sister?”

  “You may do so if she is worthy, but you will have no children.”

  “And what if my brother lay with his brother?”

  “He may do so if he finds one worthy, but he will have no children.”

  That night, Magda stole away and found the resting place of Adammeh. Cutting off his phallus, she pushed it into herself, and out poured all the broken beings of the world [translation contested; Light of The Oils] that whispered falsehoods into the hearts of men in the darkest hours where not even Danu could see. So the Adversary was made flesh and entered the world to gather the weak from the dark with the promise of light.

  “What have you done, daughter of mine?” said Danu who had been watching from the moon.

  “Lament!” cried Magda. “I craved the phallus and not the child. My sisters could not enter me, and my brothers would bring infants forth!”

  “Who told you of Adammeh and where he rested?” asked Danu.

  “I was there on the border of Nod, where I met the Ghazal who spoke in the voice of the cloud serpent, and they told me of such pleasures of the phallus that does not bring children.”

  “Foolish child,” intoned Danu, “Now see what destruction your progeny has wrought. The forest and fields burn like lies. The lakes and rivers run with blood and tar, like untruths. Your people divide and the land is split from the sky. As horizons end, so the time of Sumer is over.”

  The Goddess called the Raven Men who, having banished the Sky Lords from the Holy Isle, carried the Tuatha up into the veil of the strata, and there across the jewelled waters that they might begin again. Danu bade three stars to turn that Sumer was spun from sight.

  So the Land of Sumer was bound by the Goddess Danu that none should witness the Sundown Empire, and a mighty seal of Her sign was placed across it.

  There on the Holy Isle, Danu gave instruction to the Tuatha that a Seeplin might be built to once again marry land and sky.

  *

  Walsh sat down and addressed the Head of HR. “Ms Sindent. The panel has reached a...”

  A knock at the door cut Walsh off. Sindent looked to Walsh who nodded. Crossing the room, she opened the door, muttered a “thank you” and approached the panel.

  “It’s a letter. Addressed to the panel,” she said and deposited an envelope in front of Walsh before returning to her seat.

  Walsh looked to his two colleagues who sat in silence. “Ms Sindent? Are we allowed to open this? We were about to deliver our verdict.”

  “Yes, Mr Chairman. A verdict has not been entered, so you can consider any evidence or statement.”

  “Right. Good.” Walsh started to open the letter. Why can’t this just be over? Walsh read the single page, looked to his colleagues and showed them the letter. Both nodded and grunted.

  Walsh looked to the Head of HR. “Ms Sindent. This is a letter from George. He has resigned. I believe that this hearing is now redundant.”

  Lawton and Thorne rose with Walsh and began packing their papers away.

  *

  Walsh and Sindent saw the two other panel members out of the room, and then turned to each other.

  “It is probably better this way,” muttered Walsh, arms crossed.

  “Maybe. He’ll get to keep his pension, although he’ll probably have to pay our publishing costs. The pulping too I imagine,” she said.

  Walsh wanted to smile. Sindent was obviously frustrated, and that gave him immense satisfaction. “Judging by his previous sales, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  Sindent sighed. “No. It probably won’t be.” As Walsh turned to leave, she continued, “You know you never heard all of my evidence Jerry. There was more. The skeletons. The pendants. George’s fixation with all those obscure religious texts. You know as well as I do what we found in his personal notes – he was obsessed with what he called ‘The Gathering of Twine.’ It was all in the file. You never let me present that.”

  Walsh stopped, turned, and looked Sindent in the eye. “No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t, did I?”

  *

  Danielle was silent for a moment. “What? That’s it?” she said. “You can’t leave it like that!”

  Freeman smiled. “That was Mrs Slack’s account. That’s where her story ends.”

  “But did George really copy that book? What do those inscriptions really say? What about Celus? And the skeletons, and the pendants?”

  “I said that was the end of her story, not the end of ours.”

  “Ok. So who was Celus Tuther?”

  “Honestly? Even to this day, I’m still not sure. But I do know how George and Celus met.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Anak 10:4-9

  And God delivered His Word unto his all creation,

  That the earth shall be thy alpha and thy omega,

  That all the clay shall be nourished,

  To be cherished and returned from everlasting to everlasting.

  And the Darkness comprehended it not.

  I am Dennis King, now retired from The Royal Air Force. I met George Tate in Falkland, in 1954, when I was a cadet with the Air Training Corps. We had mustered at RAF Leuchars and had then been driven across to witness the solar eclipse. I was seventeen.

  Wednesday 30th June 1954

  Warrant Officer Price was not a happy man. Even though the sky was overcast, and it was beginning to rain, it seemed that every soul and his dog had the same idea of climbing the East Lomond Pap to watch the solar eclipse. The road into the village of Falkland was bumper to bumper and despite it being only eleven-hundred-hours, he did not fancy the chances of finding a parking space let alone getting twenty cadets up the Pap within the next two hours. In frustration he fidgeted in his seat, trying to adjust his uniform.

  “Mark,” he said, without turning to Warrant Officer Cram. “Reckon we’re going to make it?”

  “Nope,” replied Cram, arms folded and staring at the traffic in front of him. The minibus had been stationary for nearly fifteen minutes.

  “Send Dennis?”

  “Cadet King!”

  A lanky youth ran up to the front of the minibus, nearly bumping his head on the roof along the way. “Sir!” King said to Cram.

  “Want to earn a couple of merits for your sergeant stripe? Nip out and see what’s going on,” said Cram without looking at the boy.

  King slid the door back and jogged past the queue of stationary vehicles. A few minutes later he jogged back again.

  “Sir. Milk wagon has gone over. The horses have spooked and bolted. The crossroad at South Street is completely blocked and the pol
ice officer is asking if we can lend a hand.”

  “Boys!” Cram barked.

  All twenty cadets piled off the minibus and followed King. Price and Cram sat in silence until their wards returned some time later, a police officer behind them. Price wound his window down.

  “Thanks for the help gents,” the officer said.

  “No problem. What happened?”

  “Don’t really know. Dairy’s horses bolted. Both of them. Turned the wagon over. Never had a problem with them before. They’ve got themselves caught in some barbed wire further up. Vet reckons he’ll have to put them down.”

  Price did not reply.

  “You’re here for the eclipse?” the policeman continued.

  “We are. Hoping to take this lot,” Price thumbed back, indicating the cadets, “up East Lomond.”

  “You’ll struggle for parking this side of the village. Here, I’ll jump in and show you where you can park up. It’s just at the other end of the High Street, but you can pick the footpath up through the Falkland Estate. It’ll take you straight up the Pap.”

  Price nodded. “Get in.”

  As the officer walked around, Cram slid over in his seat and the officer got in. “Straight over, and keep going.”

  Ten minutes later the minibus pulled off the road and parked under the boughs of a mature spruce.

  “That’s it,” said the officer pointing towards a narrow path leading through the lightly wooded forest. “Straight up there. You’ll get to a fork. Keep left and then straight on till you get to the other side. That’ll bring you to the base of the pap. No more than twenty minutes. Half hour at most.”

  “Thank you. Much obliged,” Price said, shaking the officer’s hand and then watched him head off along the road, back towards the village. Despite the coolness of the day, the smell of summer still hung in the air.

  Price turned to Cram. “How do you want to do this?”

  “Usual? You take the front. I’ll kick the stragglers along.”

  “Ok. What time have you got?”

  “Nearly noon. Say twenty minutes to the other side of these woods. Gives us nearly an hour to get up the Pap. Easy.”

  “Agreed.” Price looked at the sky. The cloud was thickening and the drizzle was threatening to become rain. “Don’t know how much we’re going to see if it keeps up like this. It’ll be a disappointment for the boys if they don’t get to watch anything.”

  “My old man saw a full one in South Africa in forty-one,” Cram replied. “Reckons that it doesn’t matter how overcast it is – you’ll know about it.”

  Price nodded. “Right. Let’s get this lot going. King, you’re with me. Everyone else – pace us.”

  The group started off. Price knew he could have made them march in formation, but as he kept being reminded, the Air Training Corps was supposed to cultivate enthusiasm. Best keep it informal for now. They would learn as they went along.

  They had only been going a few minutes when Price caught a smell and stopped. As he turned he could still see the shape of the minibus at the end of the path.

  “King. Smell that?”

  King sniffed. “Yes, Sir. Kerosene?” A sharp tang hung in the air.

  The other boys could smell it too and muttered amongst themselves.

  “No. Not kerosene. But something like petrol or diesel. Cram?”

  “Can’t see anything,” Cram replied from the back, looking into the forest for an overturned drum.

  A few paces further on King found the source. “Here!” he said and knelt beside an oozing puddle of thick black liquid. The stench was surprisingly strong given how small the puddle was and the smell caught in the back of his throat. Price knelt next to him and the boys gathered round.

  Price picked up a nearby stick and prodded the dark slime. “Looks like oil. There’s something in it. Get another stick and help me fish it out.”

  King fetched a stick and helped lever out two unidentifiable lumps. Picking up some leaves from the ground, he started to wipe them down. “It’s rabbits, Sir,” he said to Price. “Two baby rabbits... urgh! They’ve been eaten... see the chunks taken out of them.”

  Price nodded grimly. “Looks more dissolved than eaten. If we see the Estate Keeper we’ll let him know that someone is dumping in the woods. Let’s keep going.”

  As they cleared the forest, they could see the East Lomond Pap directly in front of them and the path winding up it. The hill rose quickly from its rocky base, and more than once a tourist had commented on its teat-like appearance. There were already a few people scattered on its grassy sides and a few more on the craggy top, getting ready for the eclipse. Yet there was not as many as Price had feared - the incessant chatter of civilians always grated on him.

  “Did you get any of that oil on you?” Price asked King. The smell hung in his nostrils, making him feel a little queasy.

  “Just a little on my fingers Sir,” the boy replied. “I tried to get most of it off, but it has stained.”

  Price nodded. “The stuff stinks. If we see a burn, you wash it off.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The party was about half way up the pap when Price stopped and looked out over the view of Fife. The patchwork of green fields that rolled towards the horizon was breathtaking – God’s own country. With a sense of satisfaction, he noted that the cloud was breaking.

  “This’ll do,” Price said to Cram, who just nodded. “Ok boys. Set yourselves up. Everyone got their glasses? Good. Jones? Where are yours? You’ve got a filter? Ok.”

  When it finally came, everyone fell silent. The first sign was the birds returning to their trees. Darkness began to creep across the land like a stain spreading from some spilt ink bottle, and the temperature fell. Even though everyone shivered, no-one stopped watching the sky to put a jumper or coat on. Through the breaks in the cloud, the shadow of the moon began to pass in front of the sun, like some divine curtain falling on a celestial stage. It was not going to be a full eclipse, but maybe eighty or ninety percent.

  Price could feel a crick beginning to develop in his neck, but still he stood transfixed. They all did. For his wards, this was their first time seeing an eclipse. None of them had even been born when the last one occurred. When had that been? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Something like that. That had been a total one. Price had been in the hospital at the time, having broken his leg in training. But the nurses had wheeled him out onto the patio to see it. Some of the other patients too. He remembered one nurse – he could see her face. What had been her name? Iris? Eileen? It was just there, at the edge of remembering, but he could not quite bring it to the surface of his memory. Never mind. She was pretty and he had been soft on her. She knew it and stood none of his nonsense. Price had been young and had not had the confidence to ask her out. He half smiled at how his youthful self had become tongue-tied whenever she stopped at his bed. She had an amazing smell. Light, like soft flower petals and sweet lemonade. What had her name been? It was quite infuriating. He remembered that her face was completely unlined, soft and pale, almost as if it were lit by an inner glow. Like it was carved from marble, or alabaster, and then polished to a perfect finish. She had been quite exotic. One of the chaps said that she was from out Persia way, but she did not look...

  A single scream pierced Price’s reverie, savagely jolting him back to reality. The hairs went up on the back of his neck. He knew that scream. Absolute terror. Instinctively his hand went for his service revolver.

  What in the blazes? He jerked his head to the left, just as the girl screamed again. Everybody’s attention had been dragged from the mystic play that was being enacted in the sky above, and they had all turned to look at the girl.

  She was pointing to a figure, not more than two hundred yards from them. Stooped over, It was covered in the thick black substance Price had seen earlier, Its black hair matted to Its scalp. Its eyes bright with fear, It looked directly at Price, Its jaw slack and panting hard.

  The man to Price’s immediate
left bolted across his line of sight. He had been with the girl who screamed, hadn’t he?

  “No!”

  A shot rang out.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing?!” shouted Cram, his service revolver still clutched in his hand as the man tried to wrestle it from his grasp. His revolver fired again. “It’s a gorilla! It’s wild!”

  “It’s a man!” the stranger shouted back.

  For a second Price was torn. Already It – whatever It was – was running off. He had seen enough news reels at the picture houses to know that It was not a gorilla.

  “Mark!” Price barked. Cram froze. His body knew an order when it heard it. “You stay with the boys.” Price drew his own revolver and started jogging after It. If It was a man, then he clearly needed help. If It was an animal... well then it needed putting down looking like that. Price was not taking any chances.

  Price heard feet running after him, and at the bottom of the pap he turned. King was right behind him.

  “What are you doing?” Price demanded.

  The boy was already panting. “Back up. Sir.”

  Price tried to suppress a smile. This lad would make a great officer one day.

  A moment later the stranger arrived next to them, at the base of the hill.

  “I don’t know who you are,” said Price, “but that was a damn foolish thing you did back there. You could have been hurt. Or worse.”

  “Tate. George Tate,” said the figure, who was panting too. “And if it wasn’t for me, your chum would be up on a murder charge. That was a man we saw. Not some animal to be put down.”

  Price did not reply. Cram was a difficult so-and-so at the best of times and him going off half-cocked had got him into trouble more than once before. In truth, Price did not know what that thing was.

  “Well we’d best get after him,” Tate continued. “Fellow looks to be in a heck of a state.”

  “He’s over there,” King said, pointing to a figure retreating across the field. Price turned his head and narrowed his eyes. It was moving fast, and it was already five hundred yards away.

  “Come on,” Tate said. “We’re going to lose him.”

  The three of them set off west across the field. For a few minutes, they jogged in silence, always keeping the figure just in sight. Price could see that he was gaining ground, but the other two were tiring and beginning to fall behind.