Thatcher handed the box back to him. “Very good,” he said. “It’s a fascinating relic to be so far from home.”
Ian held on to it tightly as they drove the short distance to Castle Dover. Massive and situated on top of one of the highest hills in the surrounding countryside, the castle could be seen from either tower of the keep, and Ian was always eager to visit the old building. He was a frequent visitor, as he’d been allowed access to the earl’s personal library and was often traipsing through the opulent and well-manicured gardens on his way to select a new book.
As the parade of motorcars entered the castle’s gates and continued down the long driveway, the earl announced, “I’ve had the cooks arrange breakfast for the children while the rest of the staff prepares adequate sleeping quarters.”
“How long do you think it will be before they can return to the keep?” asked Perry, next to Ian in the backseat.
“I’ve got my man Binsford on it. He’s a very capable chap, and he’ll have it repaired in no time,” said the earl confidently. “Master Wigby,” he called into the backseat.
“Yes, my lord?” said Ian, enjoying the thrill of riding along in the earl’s fabulous motorcar.
“I’ve asked the cooks to prepare us a simple breakfast of toast and tea to allow us to get to that tunnel straightaway. When the other children are sent into the dining room, you stay with the schoolmasters.”
“Yes, sir,” Ian said with a vigorous nod. He didn’t mind that he would be skipping the hot and probably lavish meal prepared by the cooks of Castle Dover. He doubted he’d be able to eat much, anyway. He remembered clearly how tight the corridor that linked the two caverns was, and he had a flash of fear as he thought about the beast devouring them one by one in that cramped space.
The earl parked his Packard at the head of the fleet of motorcars, and one by one the car doors were opened and all the children hurried out to queue up again in the driveway, waiting for the command to go inside. Many of them openly ogled the huge castle and the beautiful grounds. Ian walked over to join Carl, who was next to Theo, and Ian smiled at the look of amazement on his new friend’s face. “It’s even better on the inside,” Ian said to him knowingly.
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” breathed Carl. “Blimey, you’d need a map just to find your way to the loo!”
Theo and Ian laughed. “Best we get in the queue,” said Theo as more and more children gathered from the cars.
“You two go on,” Ian said to them. “I’ve been asked by the earl to lead the men back to the beast’s lair.”
Theo looked worriedly at him. “Be careful, all right?” she said. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and she and Carl moved to their places in line.
Madam Scargill was once again encouraging the children as she moved about the group, saying, “Queue up by height, everyone, smallest children first.”
Finally, when the last of the children had taken his place, the massive wood doors of the castle swung open and out stepped a man and a woman, both crisply dressed in dark gray. The woman, Ian noticed, eyed the group of children warily as she stepped down the stairs to greet the earl, and Ian thought he saw her sniff and wrinkle her nose as she took them all in.
“Everything is prepared, my lord,” said the man with a low bow.
“Good man, Binsford,” the earl answered. Then, glancing at the woman wrinkling her nose, he said, “Not to worry, Miss Carlyle. They’ll be here only as long as necessary.”
“Yes, of course, my lord,” she answered with a deep curtsy. Ian couldn’t help curling his lip a bit at her reaction. He remembered Miss Carlyle from his last stay at the castle. She’d been most curt with the children, insisting that they whisper and eat dinner silently. He remembered that even Madam Scargill had taken issue with her attitude back then.
As Miss Carlyle made her way back up the stairs, the earl turned to the group and with a clap of his hands said, “All right, my children, in you go, single file. Please follow Miss Carlyle and do not wander off. It’s easy to get lost in the castle, and we don’t presently have the resources to spare searching for you should you wander off.”
Many of the more well-behaved children nodded directly at the earl before hurrying forward single file to follow Miss Carlyle while Madams Dimbleby and Scargill brought up the rear. Ian noticed with a satisfied smirk that Searle quickened his pace as he passed the earl, obviously still stinging from the earlier rebuke.
As the last of the children disappeared through the doors, a group of servants came out and descended the steps. They were loaded with rifles, ammunition, and hunting supplies. “How many men could you secure for the hunt?” the earl asked Binsford.
“Ten, my lord,” he said, and as if on cue, Ian heard the rumble of another parade of motorcars coming down the castle’s long driveway.
Ian watched as the first automobile parked and out bounded a short portly man with a bushy mustache that curled into little loops at the tips. “Hastings!” the man called with enthusiasm as he waddled up to the earl. “I came as soon as I heard!”
“Thank you for joining us so quickly, Ciaran,” said the earl, shaking the man’s hand vigorously. Ian wondered how such a rotund man was going to manage through the narrow passage of the tunnel they were about to explore. And he was surprised when two additional men, much taller, leaner, and younger than Ciaran, appeared at his side and were introduced. “You remember my sons, Henry and Alfred?”
“Yes, of course,” said the earl, and he shook their hands too.
“Father told us there’s a wild beast roaming the area,” said Alfred.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” answered the earl. “It attacked my orphanage last evening, and very nearly killed a few of the children.”
“Dreadful!” said Ciaran, the little loops on his mustache bouncing as he spoke. “Your man Binsford said it’s some sort of giant wild dog.”
The earl’s face became very grave. “I’m afraid it’s much worse than that, old friend,” he said. “When I was a lad, my mother told me stories about a wild beast straight from the gates of hell roaming Europe and snatching up children from their beds.”
“Are you referring to that old wives’ tale about the hell-hound?” asked Alfred. The earl stared him straight in the eye and nodded. “Surely, my lord, you must be joking!” Alfred said, laughing.
“I’m afraid this is no joke,” said the earl solemnly. “The hellhound exists. I’ve seen it with my very eyes, and this boy, Ian Wigby, has personally been attacked by it.” The earl nodded at Ian, who flushed as the attention was suddenly turned on him.
Under the astonished stare of so many eyes, Ian waved awkwardly and offered a meek hello.
The earl rested his hand on Ian’s good shoulder and told the group, “It was a sheer miracle that this brave lad was in fact able to hold off the beast with only an axe handle until we could arrive to shoot it twice, and still it survived our gunfire and managed to leap through a third-story window and run off with barely a trace left behind.”
Ian, embarrassed right down to his toes, attempted to smile at the men now openly gaping at him. “How do you do?” he mumbled as others from the parade of motorcars joined their group to hear the tale and offered to shake his hand.
“We’ll need to set off straightaway,” said the earl. “Master Wigby has agreed to lead us to the underground cavern where he first discovered the hellhound. We’ll need a hunting party both aboveground and below. One group can flush out the beast and the other group can finish it off if necessary And I must warn all of you, we got two rounds into the creature last evening and it barely flinched. When you shoot, don’t think once will be enough. Keep firing until you’re sure it’s taken its last breath.”
“Yes, of course,” said Ciaran. “The boys and I would like to volunteer to be in the party going down into the cavern.” Ian was surprised that the earl’s friend was so quick to volunteer. He didn’t really strike Ian as the sporting type.
B
ut the earl nodded and gave Ciaran a pat on the back. Ian heard someone cough behind them and turned to see Binsford holding a thermos and a bit of toast wrapped in wax paper. “Your breakfast, my lord,” he said with a small bow as other servants passed out thermoses and toast to the hunting party. Ian politely declined the toast and tea, feeling too anxious for breakfast.
The earl took his food and the thermos from his butler. “Very good, Binsford, thank you. Shall we be on our way, then?” he said, and headed off down the drive and around the side of the castle to a pathway that Ian sensed might lead directly to the cliffs.
Ciaran and his sons marched quickly after the earl, leaving Ian, the new schoolmasters, and the rest of the small crowd to hurry along and attempt to keep up with the brisk pace the earl set.
As they rounded the high wall of the castle, Ian realized that he was the only member of the hunting party not equipped with a rifle. He looked about and saw that Thatcher was carrying a very large gun as he walked beside his brother. Ian decided that the best place to be was near someone carrying a weapon like that, so he nonchalantly inserted himself between the two brothers.
Perry gave him a warm smile when he noticed Ian squirming his way between them and he kindly offered him a bit of toast. Ian’s stomach was still in no mood to accept food, so he politely shook his head while his insides gave another flop from nerves.
“Master Wigby,” said Perry with a frown. “You really should eat something. After all, we could be out here a long while.”
Ian shrugged. He knew that his stomach would refuse the food. “Thank you, sir, but I’m not hungry.”
“Very well,” said Perry, biting into the toast.
They arrived at the cliffs a short time later, and as they neared the entrance to the cavern, the terrain became rockier and more difficult to navigate. The wind had picked up and the sun from the morning had given way to dark gray clouds, which threatened more rain. Near the edge of the cliffs, Ian sped up a little and tugged on the earl’s coat. “My lord,” he said, feeling a small spurt of adrenaline, “the hole where we found the first cavern is over in that direction.” And he pointed to his right.
“Lead the way, Master Wigby,” directed the earl.
Ian turned right, scanning the ground for signs of the boulder he’d stood on the day before. It took him a little while, but he finally spotted it. “Over here!” he said, picking up his pace and hurrying to the landmark.
“Wait for us!” puffed Ciaran, lagging far behind the rest of the group.
Ian’s eyes darted back and forth across the ground as he walked. He knew that the opening to the tunnel was close, but he and Theo had left so quickly that he was having trouble remembering its exact location. Finally, something out of place to his right caught his eye and he spotted the mammoth hole in the ground that had fresh dig marks and exposed dirt from torn-out vegetation. “Here!” cried Ian, running to the opening. “It’s here!” he said excitedly, but immediately realized he was standing very close to the edge of a hole where the beast could right now be lurking, waiting for him to come near enough to snatch him from the ground. Ian quickly took two steps back and waited for the men to approach.
The earl, Thatcher, and Perry were first to reach him, their guns loaded and ready as Ian pointed eagerly at the ground. “My heavens!” said the earl as he approached. “Look at the size of those claw marks!”
Perry bent down and poked a stick at the exposed chalk, with its series of deep gouges. “The beast’s paws are enormous,” he said, his voice filled with awe, as he ran his finger along the nail marks in the soft lime. Ian shivered as he watched Perry trail the grooves. He knew all too well how large and deadly those paws with their giant nails were.
When the rest of the group had joined them, the earl gave his instructions. “Right, then,” he began, his face grimly set as he eyed the tunnel entrance warily. “I’ll take the boy, Thatcher, Perry, Ciaran, and his sons into the cavern. The rest of you lot spread out along this side of the cliffs and be on the alert. If this was originally too small for the beast to get out, there has to be a larger way in and it’s likely not far away.”
All the men in the hunting party nodded and Ian caught a shared look between Thatcher and Perry. He hadn’t expected that the earl would want him down in the tunnel, and he tried not to gulp when his patriarch gave him a firm pat on the back. “Are you ready, Master Wigby?”
“Yes, my lord,” Ian said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was trying to put on a brave front for the earl, but in the face of that giant gap in the earth and those claw marks, it was hard not to think about the vicious beast so close at hand.
“I’ll go first,” said Thatcher, readying himself at the mouth of the hole. “Perry, after I drop down, stick your gun through the opening, and if anything other than me moves, shoot it.”
Perry nodded and pulled his rifle up to his shoulder. “Ready when you are,” he said.
Thatcher swung his rifle round to his back and clicked on a torch Binsford had given him, then he braced himself and crouched low beside the hole. Inhaling deeply, he glanced at Ian with a grave expression before dropping into the hole. Perry immediately edged to the lip, aiming his rifle into the dark below. No one else moved or said a word while they waited to hear from Thatcher.
Ian held his breath and watched the light from Thatcher’s torch dance and bob while the schoolmaster swung the beam to and fro. “It’s clear!” he finally shouted. “No signs of the beast. The rest of you can come down.”
Perry pulled his rifle out of the opening and, like his brother, swung it round to his back before dropping in. The earl motioned for Ian to go next. “Do you need help down?” the earl asked him, indicating Ian’s bound shoulder and arm.
“I think I can manage, thank you, my lord,” said Ian as he edged his way over to the lip and gauged the jump. He took a small leap and landed easily on the floor of the cavern, then moved quickly to the side and out of the way for the others to come through. The earl, Ciaran, Alfred, and Henry followed the others, although Ciaran needed considerable help getting through the hole.
The cavern was well lit now with all the torches being switched on and Ian noticed the men staring wide-eyed at the spacious opening to the tunnel. “I’ve never been in this particular vein,” said the earl, and Ian turned to look at him, surprised by the admission.
“What’s that, my lord? What do you mean by ‘this particular vein’?” asked Perry.
The earl’s eyes found Ian’s and they shared a knowing smile. “Castle Dover was built atop a maze of tunnels all leading out to caves along the cliff’s face as an escape for the inhabitants should the castle ever be taken by enemies,” the earl explained. “As a child I explored just about all of these tunnels, but I don’t ever remember having been in here.” Ian felt an even greater welling of admiration for the earl and their shared youthful interests.
“Pardon me,” interrupted Thatcher. “But I believe we should all have a look at this.”
Ian turned to where Thatcher was, and noticed that he was standing in front of the big black lettering that Ian and Theo had seen the day before.
“What have you got there?” asked Ciaran, edging closer to the schoolmaster.
“This is written in Greek,” answered Thatcher as his hand traced the outline of the writing. “I’m not an expert, but I believe I can sound it out.” Thatcher’s voice halted abruptly while his beam went back to the beginning of the lettering, then scanned slowly along the wall and stopped. He turned and stared at Ian.
“What?” Ian asked, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Did you write this?” Thatcher demanded, his tone sharp.
“No, sir!” Ian said quickly, astonished that his new schoolmaster could possibly think that. “That was there when I first came into the cavern.”
“My good man,” said the earl to Thatcher, “please tell us what it says.”
Thatcher turned to his employer, his lips pressed tightly tog
ether as if he were weighing something. Finally, he said, “It literally translates, ‘Young boy, Wigby, come this way’”
Ian and several others in the cavern gasped. He was so stunned that he simply stared dumbly at Thatcher for a long moment.
The silence that followed was broken by the earl as he gave a snort of laughter. A moment later, Alfred, Henry, and Ciaran followed with chuckles, and Ian grinned in relief as he felt the tension leave his shoulders. His schoolmaster was obviously joking.
“Now, come on, Master Goodwyn, what does it really say?” Ciaran asked after he’d had a good laugh.
“I’m not joking,” Thatcher said, his words clipped and his face never breaking out of its serious expression. “It truly says, ‘Young boy, Wigby, come this way’”
The earl cocked his head, as if he were waiting for Thatcher to give up the joke, but the younger man’s expression held. Slowly, the earl turned away from him and looked directly at Ian. “Master Wigby,” he said sternly, “tell us the truth, lad. You wrote this on the wall, didn’t you?”
Ian’s heart was racing wildly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the big black lettering. Something about it seemed oddly familiar, but he was sure he’d never seen such a message before, and he knew nothing of the Greek language. “My lord,” he said in his most sincerely honest tone while he held up his good hand. “I swear to you on my honor, I had nothing to do with that. It was already here when I came into the cavern yesterday for the first time. And for that matter,” he added, willing the earl to believe him, “I don’t have the foggiest notion about how to read or write in Greek.”
No one spoke for several long seconds and it seemed to Ian that every person in the cavern was taking a measure of him and the truth of his words. He especially hated the feeling that the earl might believe he would do such a thing. “I swear to you, my lord!” he insisted, hoping it was enough to convince the man he so admired.
Finally, the earl gave one curt nod and said, “All right then, Ian. I believe you.”