Stephen Lawhead - The Realms Thereunder

A couple nerve-racking hours later, he made it. He tried to stick to streets with a lot of parked cars on them for cover. Of course that thinned out the farther he went into affluent North Oxford, but there was more street parking as soon as he crossed Marston Ferry Road into Summertown.

Now he pushed open the wooden lych-gate of the church of St. Michael and All Angels and stepped into the churchyard. Passing row after row of worn, weathered tombstones, he thought, All these people came before me, with lives nearly as big as my own . . .

He twisted the oversized iron ring that hung on the large double doors of the church, which responded with a half turn and a sharp clack . Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

The church was rather plain, as churches go. He was still cold, but warmer for being out of the wind and the rain. He slid into a pew and closed his eyes. He was tired and began to nod off.

There was the thump of something flat hitting the stone floor. Daniel turned and saw a thin old man with dusty grey hair standing near the door of the church. He clutched a handful of narrow slips of paper and was inserting them into a stack of order of service books. He smiled, made an apologetic face, and bent to pick up the book he’d dropped.

Daniel studied him for a moment. Was this man going to make him leave, or was he just keeping an ostentatious eye on him? This man could make trouble for him if he wanted to. Perhaps it would be better to wait for Freya outside.

He stood and started to make his way out. To do so, he passed the old gentleman, who looked up, smiling. “Can I help you?”

“I’m just leaving,” Daniel said.

“That’s not what I asked. I said, can I help you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Daniel said, and turned to go.

“Hold up a bit,” the old man said, reaching into his back pocket. He withdrew a wide leather wallet, removed a bank note, and gave it to Daniel.

“No thanks, I’m fine,” Daniel said, looking at the square of paper.

The old man took Daniel’s wrist and shoved the money between his fingers. Daniel kept his eyes on it-there was something odd about the way it looked.

“Is there anything else?”

“What?” Daniel asked.

“You didn’t come in here to ask for money.”

Daniel couldn’t work out if the note was for five pounds or ten.

The colours, in this low light, seemed to be somewhere between.

Was it for fifty? The man’s words registered then. “Sorry?”

“What did you come here for?”

“I was waiting for someone.”

“Oh, do they attend this church?”

Daniel examined the note more closely. The shapes didn’t seem to add up. He pulled it tight and held it steady.

“I don’t know.”

“What is their name?”

There was something wrong with what he was holding. His arm stiffened as he thrust the money back at the man. “Here, take this, I don’t want it.”

“But you asked me for it.”

“No, I don’t need it. It’s too much.”

“Too much? I don’t understand . . .”

“Take your money!” Daniel yelled at the old man.

“But I didn’t give you money.”

“What?” Daniel looked down at his hand. He was holding one of the slips of paper-a notice sheet-that the man had been inserting into the books. “Oh.” He tried to read it but couldn’t.

“Come back and see me if you like. I’ll be here.”

“Okay-thanks.” Daniel shoved the paper in his pocket and left. He hurried down the church path, towards the street. He looked past the wooden lych-gate and to the street. There was a familiar figure approaching him-Freya. He raised a hand to greet her and saw a shape slide out from behind a privet hedge behind her.

“No!” Daniel shouted, breaking into a run. He barrelled through the wooden gate and suddenly felt himself falling forward. The ground was no longer where it should have been. He didn’t fall far, but landed with a jolt that knocked the air from his lungs.

When he raised his head, he saw that the sky was clear now and the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. He was lying in the middle of a wide field of green grass and there wasn’t a building in sight.

Before . . .

“I’m not going,” said Freya, gazing into the dark, fathomless, anonymous blackness that stretched in front of her. “You can’t make me.”

Daniel looked into the new opening and licked his lips. He saw a fantastic opportunity before him. This was escape-he could run away with these two . . . knights, or whatever they really were. He felt the pull in his chest-the tug of adventure, of the unknown, of danger-and it was exciting to him. He turned to Freya.

“What other choice do we have?” he asked her in a meek yet reasonable voice. “I think we have to go with them,” Daniel coaxed, taking her arm and pulling her along through the gap in the wall and into deeper, darker tunnels. She felt dread from the very first heavy foot that she put forward. Each step was a step further into darkness and uncertainty. Each step was a step into fear.

“Where are you two from?” Daniel asked. “Are you Vikings?”

“God’s teeth,” moaned Ecgbryt. “That he would call me such!”

“What makes you ask if we are Vikings?” asked Swi?gar.

“Well . . . ,” said Daniel slowly, “you speak strangely; the weapons, your hair . . . you don’t seem English.”

“We are the very flesh of England!” Ecgbryt exploded. “The dust of the land is in our blood just as our blood is in its dirt! We are its arms, its teeth!”

“Much will have changed since we were put to rest,” Swi?gar said, in a more measured fashion. “But we were born here and have lived all our lives without stepping a foot off Britain’s shores.”

“How come we can understand you?” Freya asked. “Shouldn’t you be talking a different type of English?”

“And so we are,” said Ecgbryt.

“So, how . . . ?”

“It is one of Ealdstan’s devices. There was an arch that you passed under which read:

I, the word-worker of Ni?ergeard, Give to all who pass beneath this arch The gift of free speech- If he be truly friendly.

“The enchantment was such that all who pass beneath it would not be hindered in understanding of our words due to ignorance of our language. Now wait, what is this here?”

They had come to a crossroad and stopped. The tunnel had narrowed and now split off into three different directions. Ecgbryt held a hand up to Daniel and went to Swi?gar. “What’s wrong?” Daniel asked. “Are you lost?”

“Not yet. Be patient, please.”

Freya crept closer to Daniel and whispered to him, “Where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember what he said. Nither-something, I think. Nither-gard?”

“Daniel, we have to go back. I’m going to tell them that I’m going back.”

“You can’t go back, there’s no way through there anymore.”

“I don’t care. I’ll stay in the chamber. I’ll stay there until the archway opens again. I don’t want to be in these tunnels anymore.

Everyone will be worried about us.”

“Okay, when they come back I’ll talk to them.”

“Thanks,” Freya said in relief.

The knights conferred a little longer and then called Daniel and Freya over. “This way, ??elingas,” said Swi?gar. “Not far now.”

“I think Freya’s scared. She wants to go back, but I told her that this is the only way to go. That’s true, right?”

“Daniel!” Freya hissed.

Swi?gar at least acted with more sensitivity. He came over and knelt before Freya, his face sympathetic. “I am sorry that it must be like this,” he said. “But we must continue on.”