The Macbeth Prophecy (24 page)

“Another point I concealed. I'm sorry. At the beginning of the century, you know, shepherds round here still used Celtic numerals to count their sheep. Think of it! Virtually unchanged for thousands of years! Now, alas, the Gemelly Circle is our last link with the Celtic language. But to answer your question, yes. I'm sure there's a connection between the twins and the stones, but it's of their own making, and that's what worries me. They're letting the legend prey on their minds to such an extent that they actually believe it will be fulfilled.”

“And what would that involve?”

“Presumably releasing the spirits of the Bear Twins from the stones. Insane, isn't it? And quite frankly, this has been my greatest fear – that some basic instability in the twins might lead to madness. It happened with the Carters.”

“With whom?”

“There's another set you mightn't have heard of. making six in all. Women in their sixties, in a mental home near Carnforth. I know for a fact that the Selbys visit them but I can't imagine why. There must be a strong reason for them to go to so much trouble.” He glanced at Jason. “Do you remember a programme you once did in which Macbeth prophecies were discussed?”

“I do indeed.”

“I have a feeling we might be dealing with one here. Eve told me once that the gypsy girl foretold limitless power for the Selbys, ‘over life and death, body and soul'. You can imagine how I, as a minister, felt about that.”

“Then it must have been Matthew!” Jason said with satisfaction, and told him about the letter. “I wonder why he wrote, though. An act of bravado or a cry for help? In any event he must have regretted it; he's made no move to approach me since I arrived.” He looked at his visitor. “So now I know who wrote to me and what the prophecy was. The final, sixty-four thousand dollar question is, did it come true?”

Douglas Braithwaite sat forward, hands clasped between his knees.

“To a certain extent, yes. Matthew undoubtedly achieves the most phenomenal results with his pupils, to the point where there have been complaints from neighbouring villages about unfair competition.”

“And Philip?”

“Philip really believes he has power over life and death, and the human brain being what it is, his patients believe it too. There was an instance only the other day. Old John Armitage was terminally ill and the hospital sent him home to die, warning his wife he could linger for months in increasing pain. She said to me quite openly, ‘Well, Vicar, I couldn't let that happen, could I?' So she sent for Philip. He simply went into the old man's room, sat down by the bed and took his hand. John had been delirious for days, but after a minute or two he opened his eyes, looked straight at Philip and said clearly, ‘Thanks, Doctor.' Then he died.”

“Telepathic euthanasia. You think that's wrong?”

Douglas shrugged. “I can only be thankful for John's sake. Mind you, there've been occasions when Philip's powers haven't been used so sympathetically.”

“But you'd say these powers are based on telepathy?”

“Mind control, brainwashing – call it what you will.”

Jason hesitated. “We are still speaking of the Selbys?”

The other man ran a hand over his face. “No,” he said in a low voice, “I think they all have it to some extent. They can communicate with each other whenever they want.”

“You must forgive my ignorance on the subject. I still have the greatest difficulty believing it exists at all. Are you saying that one of them transmits a message and the others receive it?”

“Even that isn't necessary. They share the same psychic field and are automatically aware of the signals.”

“My God!”

The vicar smiled tiredly. “It's hard to accept, but I went into it very fully when all this started. Telepathy's an established fact, though it usually works between only two people at a time. I did try to stop it, but with such total lack of success that I gave up the attempt. I hold myself very much to blame for that weakness.”

“Yet even accepting all that – which I confess I can't – what's the purpose behind it? The Selbys might be gratifying their lust for power, but what do the others get out of it?”

“Whatever it is, it's taking its toll. Anita is becoming progressively more unstable and the Marshalls had a bad time with their girls a few years ago. If some kind of climax is imminent, it could have a devastating effect on all of them.” He stood up. “I imagine I've given you some food for thought. I hope you can make something of it.”

“Even if I can, what do you suggest I do about it?”

The vicar met his eyes. “That, of course, is entirely up to you.”

When he had gone, Jason sat for a long time thinking over what he had said. A week ago he would have dismissed the whole thing as fantasy, but a week ago he was still safely in London, where folklore was buried more deeply beneath the surface than in this Lakeland village. And a week ago he had not been subjected to the barrage of sensations which had resulted in a visit to the doctor's surgery. There was a certain kind of justice in that he, who had always derided the supernatural, should have been brought so uncompromisingly face to face with it.

“How are you this morning, Mr Quinn?” It was Saturday, and Mrs Staveley had arrived to give the cottage its weekly turn-out.

“Much better, thank you.”

“It was a nasty bang you had, Madeleine said.” She hesitated. “I wonder if I could ask you a favour.”

“Ask away, Mrs Staveley.”

“We're having a social next Saturday at the church hall – the Mothers' Union, that is. I was wondering if you would mind presenting the prizes for us?”

“Well, I –”

“Everyone would be so thrilled. The judging will be done during the afternoon, and in the evening we're holding a wine and cheese party when the prizes will be awarded. It would be such an honour if you'd do it.”

“Very well, Mrs Staveley, I'll present your prizes for you.” And, cutting short her expressions of thanks, he made his escape.

“Madeleine – wait!” Matthew increased his pace, catching up with her on the corner of Broad Walk. “I was beginning to think you're avoiding me! You haven't waited for me after school all week.”

“Sorry. There's been quite a lot going on.”

“So I gather. I hear you found our eminent friend unconscious among the buttercups?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What happened?”

“He apparently received some kind of shock from the stones. Matthew –” She glanced at him and surprised a gleam of intense excitement in his eyes. “You told me once that they store up power. What's it for?”

“Not Jason Quinn, as he discovered.”

Something in his voice sent a chill through her. “But perhaps,” she said very softly, “for you?”

He gave a breathless laugh. “Clever little Maddy!”

“If it's liable to knock you out, I can't think –”

“It wouldn't do that to me. I helped to build it up.” She stopped and stared at him, coldness spreading inside her. “You're trying to tell me it could distinguish between you? It would attack Jason and not you?”

“Exactly. The shock is only a deterrent, an anti-burglary device.”

“But he wasn't trying to steal anything! He didn't even know it was there!”

“No, being Jason Quinn he wouldn't. Well, he does now. Perhaps it showed him there are one or two things he doesn't know about after all.”

The expression on her face belatedly penetrated his elation and he took her arm and drew her forward again. “But why are we wasting time talking about Quinn? You don't like him any better than I do! Let's go to the Crow's Nest for a pub lunch and you can ask Fred about the stones. He's the expert.”

They found the saloon bar crammed with people. Matthew steered Madeleine to one end of the counter where Mabel was taking orders.

“Any chance of a bit of lunch?”

“They're queuing for the dining-room, love.”

“We only want a snack. Ploughman's, or something like that.”

“I'll see what I can do. Go out into the garden – there's more room there – and Sadie'll bring it. What do you want to drink?”

“A pint of bitter and half of lager. Thanks, Mabel. Where's Fred, by the way?”

“I think he went outside, too.”

The pub garden was gay with coloured umbrellas and beneath one of them, deep in conversation, Fred was sitting with Jason Quinn.

“Damn!” Matthew said softly.

Jason had seen them and made some comment to the old man, who raised his hand. “Matthew? Come and join us, lad.”

They had no choice but to go across. Jason rose and pulled out a chair for Madeleine. She didn't meet his eyes. No doubt he was wondering whether her rebuttal of closeness with the Selbys was as reliable as he'd hoped. Be that as it may, having settled himself again, it was at Matthew that he directed his attention.

“So we meet at last, Mr Selby. I've been wanting to thank you for your letter.”

The two men's eyes locked for a long minute before Matthew said, “I'm afraid I don't understand.”

Jason smiled; one of his mocking variety, Madeleine noted. “Just as you like. Can I get you both a drink?”

“We've ordered, thanks.”

Fred said deliberately, “Mr Quinn here was asking about them stones.”

“That's quite a coincidence. So was Madeleine.”

The old man turned towards her. “What did you want to know, lass?”

“We were talking of Mr Quinn's accident,” she said hesitantly. “It looks as though he received a shock from them, and Matthew seems to think it was deliberate; a personal attack.” She paused, aware that she held the attention of all three men. “Surely, Mr Hardacre, that's impossible? How could an inanimate lump of rock distinguish one person from another?”

Fred said slowly, “Well, love, stones are made up of the same groups of atoms and molecules as the rest of us. Only a hundred years ago country folk believed they were alive, since every time they cleared their gardens of pebbles, another lot ‘grew'. As for standing stones, they've had strange powers over the years and there's a lot about them we don't understand. If he'll forgive me saying so, Mr Quinn probably knows less than most, being as he's kept his mind closed to that kind of thing. Happen they wanted to teach him a lesson.”

Matthew had suggested the same thing.

Jason leant forward. “Enlighten me, then. What powers have the stones had over the years?”

“Eh well, now you're asking! They've been used for healing, for cursing, and for fertility. Kings have been crowned on them, treaties sworn over them and bishops ordered to destroy them. Even today we're somehow drawn to them. Show me the boy or girl who hasn't at some time collected a handful of pebbles on the beach – though ask them why and they likely couldn't tell you.” The old man sat placidly staring ahead with his sightless eyes.

After a moment Jason prompted; “And what about the energy they're supposed to store?”

“Well, sir, it could come from the earth, or even from the stars if the circles were built to read them. Or it might just be a build-up of human energy, from all those years of ritual dancing among the stones.”

“And what is it to be used for? Can you tell me that?”

Fred turned his head slowly and Madeleine felt a superstitious shiver down her back.

“Aye, I can sir. It's to free the imprisoned and restore that which was stolen.”

Sadie Perkins, plump, fair and cheerful, banged down the tray containing the ploughman's lunches and drinks Matthew had ordered. To the people sitting round the table her normality was an intrusion which violated the atmosphere they had unwittingly built around themselves. Since it was irretrievably dispelled, Jason stood up.

“I'll leave you to enjoy your lunch. Thank you, Mr Hardacre, that was fascinating. I'll treat stones with more respect in future.”

“Supercilious bastard!” Matthew said softly, staring after him.

“Did I answer your questions too, lass?”

“Some of them.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“When this – restoration is going to take place.”

“That'd be telling, now, wouldn't it? It'll not be long, though, I promise you that. Not more than a month or so, possibly less.”

“Really, Fred? As soon as that?” Matthew's voice was taut.

“Aye, I reckon we've waited long enough.”

“
You've
waited?”

“Only a manner of speaking, miss. The whole village, like.”

Madeleine's heart was thumping, her appetite gone. She wished Jason had stayed to hear that last piece of information. She needed his quizzical disbelief to counter the apprehension which was growing inside her. Matthew, on the other hand, merely added to it.

“By the way, Fred, Madeleine's been complaining about the Smith boys missing school.”

“Oh aye? That were partly my fault, I'm afraid. There were things to be done and Tom's been right busy with all the holiday trade. So I borrowed them two to help out.”

“Without their parents' knowledge?”

“Well, now, I've never known Luke and Nell bother about the lads one way or t'other.”

“But they should have been at school, Mr Hardacre.”

“Aye, well let's say I was educating them myself. They're young enough to come to no harm through a few missed lessons.”

“What were you teaching them?” she asked curiously-

“Habits of birds, among other things. Crows in particular.”

“Crows?”

“Aye, like yon black monster of their Granny's.”

Matthew said tightly, “If it's all the same to you, Fred –”

“Sorry, lad, but she did ask. Anyroad, I've finished their training now.”