A Raucous Time

  *

   

  Waiting for the photocopier to warm up, Rhyllann examined the book again. According to Wren it had been written by a scribe, the equivalent of a business person dictating to a typist. Although Wren claimed it was handwritten, the letters were so perfectly formed they seemed printed. As the machine spat copies out Rhyllann tried and failed to make sense of them. No wonder most people were illiterate in the Middle Ages. His attention was drawn back to the little animals which embellished the initial letter every fifth page or so. The scribe had given them fine detail, foxes winked slyly, snakes slithered and lions snarled. Thankfully there were only thirty pages. Rhyllann shuffled them all together neatly and turned, only to collide with Wren who was staring at him as though he’d grown an extra head.

  ‘Excuse me!’ He said when Wren continued to stare.

  ‘Say it again.’ Wren slurred, eyes glittering feverishly.

  Rhyllann thrust the photocopies at him as he pushed past.

  ‘I said excuse me.’

  Wren dragged him back, fanning out the papers on top of the photocopier, stabbing at each miniature picture.

  ‘Fox! Hedgehog! Viper! Lion!’ He squealed, pointing to each in turn.

  Rhyllann played along, not realising that only moments ago he’d been unconsciously naming the animals himself.

  ‘Yes. Moo moo. Woof woof.’

  Wren clasped a hand to his forehead. ‘It couldn’t be that simple. Could it? It couldn’t be that easy!’ He traced the air with one hand, eyes fixed in the distance. His gaze refocused as he began thinking outloud.

  ‘Annie – we need the Latin names for these animals. I’ll make a list – you run back to the library.’ His fingers drummed the pages as his mind continued to tick over. ‘I don’t think it’ll be quite that simple either. We still need the keyword.’ His voice trailed off. Once again he clutched Rhyllann’s sleeve. ‘I think we’ve found it. Look.’ Rhyllann wondered what he was looking for. Then words jumped out at him from the margins. What appeared to be an elaborate frame on each page in a mosaic design morphed into letters when Wren held a blank page over the bottom half of the frieze.

  ‘The key words. Hidden in plain sight.’ 

  Taking the paper from him, Rhyllann did the same with the next page then the next – delighted with the medieval optional illusion.

  ‘If I can figure how to do my name – hey brawd – this’d make a great tattoo!’

  Ignoring him Wren swept empty stationery boxes from the nearest desk and started hunting through drawers for paper and pen.

  ‘Bring those copies over here. I’ll make out a list. Animals are classified in Latin. I’m certain she would have taken no chances.’ As he spoke Wren stooped over the desk jotting down notes, muttering.

  ‘But a Welsh translation won’t hurt.’ Raising his voice he added ‘If you hurry – run – you should just make the library. Get fish and chips on the way back.’

  Feeling bemused, Rhyllann passed the copies over. Wren must have sensed his bewilderment. Still he scribbling, he explained his theory.

  ‘This is Joan’s last entry. She tells how King John entrusted her with his treasure. She wants it found. She’s dying though, alone and weak. She refers to her father’s great secret which she holds in trust, she probably hints at the code in an earlier letter. Maybe she even had someone at her nephew’s court who would be able to transcribe. But if I’m right – if these animals together with the keyword spell out where the treasure is …’ He paused waiting for Rhyllann to catch up.

  Rhyllann thought about it. Finally he said ‘You’re right. It’s too easy. Too simple.’

  Wren’s face hardened, drawing himself up to his full height he snapped. ‘Then do me a huge favour. Humour me.’

  Rhyllann snatched the list from him, anything to shut him up. ‘Right. But this is the last time.’

  Wren gave a soppy grin. ‘Thanks Annie. Don’t forget the fish and chips. Plenty of salt and vinegar.

  Rhyllann banged out the office muttering through clenched teeth. ‘No wonder you got no friends. No social skills.'