The Midnight Gate (20 page)

“Yes?”

“We were with the school trip, but I left my handout in the chapter house, I think. Is it all right if I go and get it?”

The woman peered at them over the top of her glasses.

“And why does that take two of you?”

Belladonna stared at her blankly.

“She's afraid of ghosts,” said Steve, stepping forward quickly. “She thinks there are ghosts of monks lurking about.”

“Well, that's just silly,” said the woman kindly. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”

Belladonna tried her best big-eyed gaze.

“Oh, alright. But be quick or you'll be left behind.”

“Thank you!”

They dashed through the visitor center and out into the abbey compound, running across the wet grass, past the monks' graveyard, through the soaring nave, and into the short passage that led to the chapter house.

“Brilliant idea, that. The school trip thing,” said Steve admiringly as he pulled the rolled-up mat from his bag.

Belladonna smiled, though she was a little disappointed in herself for not having the answer to the follow-up.

Steve laid the rug in the middle of the chapter house and they both stood back.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe we should—” began Steve.

“Look!”

Two faint dark shadows could be seen on the rug, slowly sharpening until Elsie's high-button boots appeared, followed by her skirt, purse belt, blouse, and curls. The last thing to appear was her awestruck face.

“This is stunning!” she said. “How old is it?”

“Um … 11-something,” said Steve.

“1127,” said Belladonna confidently.

“Look at those windows!” Elsie was slowly turning around, gazing at the dark red stone and the elaborately carved traceries. “You're so lucky. We never went on school trips.”

“Right,” said Belladonna, opening her exercise book. “Should we start at the beginning and work through or go for what looks like it might be an easy one first?”

“I vote for an easy one,” said Elsie. “We need to find out what we're looking for.”

“How about the third, then:
But twain is all the angels keep / Though none do they mistrust.
”

Steve stared at her. “That's your idea of an easy one?”

“Well, I was thinking that, as it's an abbey, there are probably some carvings of angels. You know, like those.”

Steve and Elsie looked up and Belladonna couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with herself as it slowly dawned on each of them that there were the remains of two carved angels on what had probably been supports for the roof. One angel was holding the remains of a harp and the other had a book. Both of them had been carved in the act of singing—with their mouths open.

“Brilliant!” gushed Elsie.

“And really high,” observed Steve.

“Not a problem for me. Can you take the rug over to the one with the harp?”

Belladonna nodded and moved the mat over to a spot in the grass just beneath the angel. For a moment Elsie became indistinct, like a TV channel that won't quite come in, but she was soon back, as solid as ever, and staring up at the carving.

“So,” she said, “do we think they might be in the mouths?”

She didn't wait for a response but began to slowly ascend, taking care to stay directly above the scrap of carpet. Once she was level with the angel, she peered into its mouth like a disapproving dentist.

“It's a bit cobwebby. I can't really see.”

She blew into the hole to clear away the cobwebs and then reached inside.

“No. Nothing here. Next!”

She descended to the rug again and Steve quickly moved it to a position beneath the chorister angel.

“Aren't you worried that there might be spiders or something in there?” he asked as she rose slowly upward again.

“Nope.”

Belladonna noticed Steve give an involuntary shudder as Elsie thrust her hand into the angel's mouth.

“I don't think there's anything here either,” said Elsie.

Belladonna's heart sank and she began looking around the chapter house for anything else that might be described as an angel, while Elsie reached deeper into the carving.

“Oh, hang on! There is something! It's right at the back.… Yes, there are two! Got 'em!”

Belladonna could hardly contain her curiosity as Elsie slowly returned to the rug and opened her hand. It was empty.

“There's nothing there,” said Steve, in a tone that clearly conveyed his suspicion that Elsie was playing some kind of joke.

“Yes, there is.” Elsie looked from Steve to Belladonna. “You really can't see it? Hold out your hand.”

Belladonna held out her right hand, and Elsie picked up the things that no one else could see and dropped them into her palm.

“Oh!”

“What is it?”

“I can feel … They're cold … they're … Look!”

The things in her hand slowly became visible, catching the thin winter sun and gleaming as if they were brand-new.

“They're coins!” said Steve. “But why can we see them now?”

“Maybe…” Belladonna turned them over in her hand. “Maybe because Elsie gave them to us. Only the dead true heart can find them, but perhaps if she gives them to you…”

“Then part of the gift is the ability to see them!” Elsie grinned. “It's like something out of an old fairy tale.”

“My Dad says there's a kernel of truth in nearly all old stories.”

“Okay, but why coins?” said Steve. “And what kind of coins are they?”

“It's a noble, I think,” suggested Elsie. “Or a sovereign. Who is the king?”

Belladonna turned it over carefully. On one side was a cross with a pattern of what looked like leaves or flowers growing out of each arm, and on the other was a king in a ship. Around the edges was writing, all in capitals and crowded together.

“It's hard to read … um … Edward. But it doesn't say which one.”

“It must be a noble, then. Sovereigns were created by Henry VII. And it's too big to be a florin.”

“How on earth do you know that?” asked Steve.

“My father was a numismatist.”

Steve and Belladonna stared at her blankly.

“He collected coins.”

“Wait,” said Steve. “Your Dad collected prints of anamorphic art
and
he collected coins?”

“Yes.”

“I bet he collected stamps too, didn't he?”

“Well, yes, actually he—”

“Ha! Your Dad was an Edwardian geek!”

“He was not! What's a geek?”

“What else did he collect?”

“Nothing. Butterflies.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something else, but Belladonna shot him a look.

“Could we concentrate?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” said Steve, stifling a giggle. “Coins. We're looking for coins.”

“But … it doesn't make any sense,” said Elsie, ignoring Steve. “Why hide nine coins? How can coins help with the stones?”

“Never mind that right now,” said Belladonna. “Let's find the rest quickly or we'll miss our train back.”

Steve nodded as Belladonna put the coins into her pocket and consulted the rhyme again.

“Thrice the knight who failed the fight.”

“I think I know this one.” Steve picked up the carpet and led the way over to the alcove where Belladonna had found him talking to Edmund de Braes.

There, set into the thick walls of the chapter house, was an ancient table tomb on which lay the effigy of a knight in full armor, his hand on his sword and his shield by his side.

“Is that … him?” asked Belladonna.

“Yes, you can just make out the name, there: ‘
Hic iacet Edmund de Braes
.'”

Elsie sighed as she looked at what was left of the face. “He looks sad.”

“He is,” said Steve quietly. “That is, he was.”

Belladonna tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at him. He and Edmund had been talking before she arrived in the chapter house, but he hadn't told her what had been said and kept changing the subject whenever she brought it up.

“But where are the coins?” she said finally. “There doesn't seem to be anywhere to hide anything.”

“You really can't see them?” asked Elsie, genuinely surprised. “They're right there. Right in the open.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course we can't see them. They can only be seen by the Dead. That's why you're here, Miss True Heart.”

Elsie pulled a face at him, then reached for the shield, which was emblazoned with a lion, rampant and roaring, above which was a bar supporting four rings. She took something from each of the two outer rings and one from inside the roaring mouth of the lion. Belladonna held out her hand and once more had the strange sensation of seeing nothing, yet feeling it land. The coins clinked in her palm and slowly appeared.

“Okay,” said Steve, barely glancing at them. “Next!”

Belladonna shoved the coins into her pocket and turned to the rhyme again.

“‘And thrice be mercy's balm.'”

“Ew … that's a bit sort of … vague.”

They turned to look at the chapter house again. But Belladonna couldn't see anything that made her think of mercy. Well, except for the angels, but they'd already got the coins from them.

“Of course!” said Elsie suddenly. “Over there!”

“What?”

“The misericord!”

“The whosis?” asked Steve, none the wiser.

“Misericords were sort of little shelves that the monks could lean their bums on in long services,” explained Belladonna. “But I thought they were only in churches. That's what Mr. Watson said, anyway.”

“Well, there are some over there.”

Elsie was right. Just to the left of the arched entrance of the chapter house was a row of six carved stone seats, each with only a small shelf to rest against.

“But I don't understand—” began Steve.

“Misericordia,”
said Elsie as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It's Latin for
mercy
.”

“Huh. I should've known Latin would come into it somewhere. Alright, here we go.”

He scooped the rug up and marched over to the stone seats, but this time Elsie appeared a little more slowly and seemed suddenly slightly transparent.

“Are you alright?” asked Belladonna.

“I'm tired. It's harder manifesting like this … away from the school.”

“Then let's be quick,” said Steve. “Can you see anything?”

Elsie nodded, leaned forward, picked something up from three of the small shelves, and dropped them into Steve's hand. He smiled slowly as they materialized.

“That's it,” said Elsie faintly. “That's all I can do.… I'm sorry.”

She began to disappear.

“That's alright,” smiled Belladonna. “We'll see you back at school.”

“And well done!”

Elsie smiled weakly and was gone.

“There's a train in fifteen minutes,” said Steve, who had been examining a scrap of paper with a handwritten list of times. “If we get a move on, we can make it and be back before it gets dark.”

“But we've only got eight coins.”

“What?”

“Two from the angel and three each from the tomb and the misericord.”

She looked at the rhyme again and sighed.

“What? What is it?”

“‘For the last is lost in the land of sleep / In the murksome house of dust.'”

“The land of sleep,” muttered Steve. “Great. That's the Other Side, isn't it?”

“I think so.”

“
Murksome house of dust
isn't very encouraging either.”

“No.” Belladonna put the coins into a side pocket of her bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder. “So … How are we going to explain this to the visitor center lady? She'll think we missed our bus.”

“We won't need to explain it,” said Steve. “We'll just run.”

Belladonna rolled up the mat and handed it to him, then they both walked quickly across the wet grass and into the visitor center. The lady at the counter looked concerned and was about to say something when Steve gave Belladonna a nod and they both raced out of the building, through the car park, and away up the road toward the station.

The train was already there, so they found themselves seats and settled down for the ride back.

Belladonna sighed as the train pulled out of the station. It had all been really disappointing. She had thought that once they found the nine things, everything would be clear, but it wasn't. They'd found the coins and knew they had something to do with the stones in her dream, but she had no idea what they were supposed to do with them and, anyway, they still had to get the ninth coin. She wasn't any better off than she'd been when she left the house that morning and she still had to go back to the Proctors and pretend that everything was alright.

The thought of the Proctors filled her with even more gloom, and her head had started pounding again. She reached into the side pocket of her backpack and took out the coins.

“Here,” she said, holding them out, “you'd better take these.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want the Proctors to get them.”

Steve nodded and took the gleaming nobles. He looked at them for a moment, shining in his hand, then placed them on the table in a ring.

“So there are nine coins.…”

“Nine Nomials.”

“Nine Worlds.”

“And nine stones.”

“The coins probably have something to with the Nomials, with the Metaversal Orrery.”

“I suppose they must do. It'd be too much of a coincidence otherwise. And if my Granddad was right and the orrery can give you power over the Nine Worlds…”