Chapter 18
Blackfriars Wood, Wealdshire. Wednesday 20 May 1998
The twins stood at the time gate. On the previous Saturday they had made several experimental journeys into the past.
They had trembled as they experienced the terrifying force of the so-called 'hurricane' which devastated so much of south-east England during an October night in 1987.
They had made snowballs in the winter of 1964 and, if they had been wearing enough clothes to protect them from the sub-zero temperatures, would have stayed to make a snowman.
They ducked instinctively when they heard a Spitfire roar overhead through the blue skies of the summer of 1940.
They stood in the Blackfriars Wood of 1901 and, if they had remembered their history, would have known that Queen Victoria had died earlier that year.
They went back to a time long before wireless was invented, and listened with disbelieving ears to the incessant crackle of static which was all their little radio was capable of producing.
Now, having had a few days in which to let the enormity of their discovery sink in, they were ready to take a bigger stride into the past. On their previous journeys into history, the twins had kept their feet firmly fixed on the point where the leys intersected. The appearance of Blackfriars Wood changed when they travelled back. Mature trees grew smaller, and others suddenly appeared where there were empty spaces in their own time but, by and large, the wood looked little different whichever year they were in. (If they had been able to take a ride in a helicopter, however, they would have seen a vast change. They would have seen The Great Wood of past centuries gradually shrink in size until all that was left was the pocket-sized Blackfriars Wood of their own time. And if the Kingsbourne Bypass was built — it would shrivel to virtually nothing.)
The twins decided that if they were going to take a proper look at a past time, they would need to travel — but stepping away from the time gate in an earlier age was not an exploit to be undertaken lightly. This time, they planned to take their mountain bikes with them (assuming that the bracelet and the time gate would permit this) so that they could explore further afield.
'Are you ready?' Chris asked.
'No, not really,' Josie mumbled through chattering teeth. 'I'm scared. I don't want to get trapped in 1916 . . . or 1888 . . . or 1752.'
'Don't be silly,' teased Chris. 'You could survive without television.'
'But could you survive without your computer . . . and pizzas . . . and loos that flush?' Josie retaliated.
'Ah. Good question. Probably not. But don't worry.' Chris gripped his handlebars and straightened his arms. 'We've got our trusty steeds to carry us around safely. We'll be all right.'
'I wish we could pop into the future and check that we'll still be alive tomorrow.'
Chris shook his head. 'Yeah. That's really weird. We tried hard last weekend, but it seemed that the bracelet either didn't want to take us forward in time or wasn't able to.'
Josie scratched her forehead. 'I don't know, Chris. Is this really happening? Have we really visited the past? Maybe one of us is dreaming all this. I just can't believe that time travel is possible.'
Chris nodded. 'I know what you mean. It is sort of . . . irregular. Still, it probably isn't as freaky as you think. I was watching a documentary a few weeks ago and these scientists were talking about 'worm holes'. They reckoned that there are probably holes or tunnels in the universe which would let you get from one place to another instantaneously — and I think they said you could probably time travel as well.'
'Do you want to call this place a worm hole, then?'
'Nah. It's a time gate. Anyway, if you're finding it hard to wrap your brain around the idea of time travel — try thinking about infinity. That's never made any sense to me. You look up at the stars at night and ask yourself how far you could travel. And you tell yourself, 'To the edge of the universe, of course,' and then you ask how you know you've got to the edge of the universe. So you say there must be a wall there and then you ask yourself what's on the other side of the wall and . . .' Chris squeezed his head with his hands. 'And then you get really freaked.'
'Okay,' Josie said. She tapped her finger on Chris's shoulder. 'You've convinced me. Time travel is an everyday occurrence and there's nothing weird about it and it's about time that we went and did a bit more exploring. Where shall we go?'
'You mean, 'When shall we go?' don't you? Well, I think we ought to go now, and I fancy visiting 1517.'
'Why 1517?' asked Josie.
'I dunno. Why not?'
'Hey! Is this 1517?' Chris shouted.
'Shhh!' Josie advised. 'There might be someone about.'
'I don't care. Our bikes came with us, so if some hairy peasant comes chasing after us, we can make a quick getaway.'
'Yes, but I'd rather not be chased by anyone,' said Josie in a hushed voice.
'Okay!' Chris replied in a husky, exaggerated whisper, 'But is this 1517?'
'How would I know? That was where I wanted us to go. Let's assume it is.'
Chris looked all around and then asked his sister, 'Do you have your compass with you?'
'I certainly have! There's no way I want to get lost. Let's make sure we don't go too far.'
'We won't. Shall we go north? Then we just have to head south to get back here.'
Josie looked doubtful. 'The trouble is — all these trees look the same. It won't be easy to recognise this place.'
Chris grinned and held up his clenched fist. 'This might help.'
'What is it?'
'Watch,' said Chris as he rode across to the nearest tree and made a white cross. 'If I leave a trail of chalk marks, we won't need your compass!'
Josie pounded her handlebars. 'You're a pig, Chris Gardiner! I hate you!'
'Uh . . . didn't you say something about keeping quiet?'
The twins rode slowly away from the the time gate with Chris hastily putting marks on trees as he passed by. A short distance from the time gate they came across a path.
'This never used to be here,' remarked Chris.
'Pardon?'
'I said that this path never used to be here.'
'Don't you mean that this path won't be here?'
Chris looked puzzled. 'Eh? — Oh yeah! I see what you mean. It won't be here in the future. This time travel business does your head in, doesn't it. Very confusing.'
'Shall we follow the path? You can make a special mark on a tree so that we know where to leave the path when we come back.'
'Okay,' said Chris, dragging his bike sideways so that he could reach the tree. I'll do an arrow.'
They made better progress when they started following the path.
'I think we ought to get to the road in a minute,' announced Chris, 'assuming the road still . . .'. He corrected himself. '. . . assuming the road was here . . . is . . . here now.'
'This is probably it.' Josie pointed ahead to another path which crossed at right angles.
'I suppose it could be. Presumably, roads in 1517 were a bit different from modern roads. Just muddy paths and tracks.'
At the mention of 'muddy', Josie turned her head to look behind her. 'Chris,' she called. 'Maybe we won't need the chalk after all. Look behind you.'
'Are we both stupid!' he shouted. 'We just have to follow our tyre tracks! What a good job the ground is damp and soft.'
'I wonder what the natives will make of our tyre tracks when they see them.'
Chris held up his hands and made them into claws. 'I expect they'll think the devil made them,' he said in his best attempt at a diabolic voice.
'I'm beginning to wonder if there are any people living in 1517.'
'Must be. Someone made the paths. They aren't animal tracks.' He bent down to look more closely. 'Look. Footprints. Not quite like our footprints, though. They're more like the marks that smooth-soled shoes would leave. Like slippers.'
'Shall we go on just a bit further?' Josie suggested. 'I think it's beginning to get dark. We want to get back to the time gate before it's too dark to see.'
'Okay. Let's leave the path and ride across that clearing.' Chris pointed to a large glade just off the path. 'It looks as if there's a valley beyond it. Maybe we'll be able to see something other than trees.'
'Possibly not, Chris. I bet Blackfriars Wood was a lot bigger in 1517.'
'Much, much bigger, I expect. It was probably part of a huge forest that covered most of the country. It really makes you appreciate why the road protesters want to protect Stumblefrith Forest.'
'Do you want to go and join them when we get back?' asked Josie.
Chris sniffed. 'It's possible. It's possible. I really do admire them, you know. The trouble is . . . with school and everything . . . it wouldn't be feasible to go and live there.'
'I'm sure Mum and Dad would have something to say about it as well,' laughed Josie. 'Still . . . perhaps we ought to go and look at their camp one day. Maybe take them some food and stuff.'
'Okay. Fine by me.'
They pedalled into the clearing and stopped to look at several black circles on the ground.
'I bet I know what these are,' Chris said.
'UFO burns?' suggested Josie.
'No, stupid. They're where charcoal burners have been working. They make stacks of logs, cover them with earth, and then set light to the heap. Because the air can't get in, the logs don't burn properly, and get turned into charcoal.'
'And what do they do with the charcoal, clever clogs? Use it to draw pictures?'
'No. They take it home and put it on their fires.'
'Why?'
'Because it burns well.'
'So does wood.'
'So what?'
'So why don't they save themselves a load of work and just take the logs home?'
'Oh, I dunno! Ask a charcoal burner.'
'I can't speak the language.'
Chris laughed. 'Canst thou, mistress? Methinks thou should read a bit more of old Willie Waggleshaft, then.'
'Who?' asked Josie, wrinkling her nose.
'William Shakespeare. He was pretty cool with the lingo. Not that he's been born yet. 1564, I think.'
Josie and Chris carried on across the clearing, doing their best to talk to each other in Shakespearean language. Blocking their way was a huge bramble bush.
'What is this I see before me?' said Josie. 'Methinks it is a fiendish monster.'
'Thou canst do magic,' said Chris. 'I command thee to use an incantation to destroy yon beast. Make it burn! Ignite it with the flames of hell!'
'What was that!' Josie gasped, as she thought she heard something scurry away from the other side of the bush. 'Did you see anything?'
'No. It was probably a rabbit — or a wolf!'
'Cretin! Why don't you walk round the bush and see if there's anything there.'
'If thou canst zap the bush, then that is what I must do.'
Putting his bike onto its stand, Chris made his way around the bush. On the other side, he spotted something white lying in the grass. He reached down to pick it up and saw that it was a folded, and rather crumpled, sheet of paper. Someone's shopping list? he wondered. Let's take a look. While he was unfolding the paper, Josie called out, 'Forget about the wolves. We'd better be getting back. Look how dark it's getting.'
'Okay. Won't be a minute.'
Chris took a quick look at the paper and read the first few words before putting it in his pocket and joining his sister.
My Dearest Friend Elizabeth,
When I do see the dawn I think of thee. How I miss thy dear voice. I wish that I could meet with thee but I fear your father's wrath.
When they had returned to the time gate, Chris showed the letter to Josie.
'How beautiful — and how sad,' she sighed.
'Wha'd' you mean?'
'The writing is beautiful to look at — a lot more than mine, anyway — and the words are beautiful to read. Whoever wrote that was obviously in love. — And it's sad because the girl's father won't let them meet. It's a bit Romeo-and-Juliet-ish. I'd love to meet the boy who wrote the letter.'
'Bah! You're just a soppy girl.'
'You don't fool me, Chris Gardiner. At least I'm honest. You feel exactly the same as I do about that letter but, because you're a boy, you think you've got to pretend that you don't feel anything for either of them.'
'I don't know about that!' Chris said, licking his lips and rolling his eyes. 'I might feel a lot for the girl — if she's really tasty.'
The kick he received on his ankle wasn't vicious but, as he bent down to give it a rub, he remembered that there was something tucked in the grass that he'd meant to pick up. Reaching out for his half-concealed watch, he asked Josie what the time was.
Josie lifted her wrist to check. 'Twenty past five,' she said. 'Why? What's wrong with your watch?'
'Nothing. My watch is fine. Look,' he said as he held it out for her to see, 'my watch shows the correct time.'
'Half past four! Don't be stupid!' she scoffed. 'It was about that time when we went to 1517.'
'It was precisely that time when we went to 1517,' said Chris triumphantly.
Josie looked bewildered as she tried to fathom out what her brother was trying to tell her.
'I dropped my watch just before we left. I had an idea that time stands still while we're away. And I was right. It was 4.30 when we left — and it's still 4.30. Actually, it's nearer 4.33. We've been back for a minute and, I think, a minute or two passed while we were away. When you first went time travelling, you disappeared for a while — so it looks as if you don't come back to precisely the same time.'
It took a while for this to sink into Josie's brain. 'Run that past me again,' she said.
'When we go through the time gate — we come back two minutes later. It doesn't matter how long we're away — when we come back, only two minutes have passed.'
Josie thought she understood. 'So anyone watching us would see us disappear for two minutes?'
'Yeah. I think so.'
'So if we went back to 1517 and stayed for ten years — when we got back here we'd be ten years older.'
'I guess so. Hey! That would give Mum and Dad a bit of a shock!'
'In that case, Chris, we'd better not spend too much time doing time travel or people will start to wonder why we're growing up so quickly.'
'I shouldn't worry about it — unless you're planning to spend loads of time in the past.'
'We might do,' said Josie thoughtfully. 'It is sort of . . . addictive. Fancy going back now?'
'1517 again?'
'Yeah. Why not? After reading that letter — I get the feeling that 1517 was a good year for nice people.'
'Do you reckon you can take us back to when we were before?' asked Chris.
'I think so.'
'Well make it a few hours later. It was getting dark when we left so see if you get us to the next morning.'
'I've just thought of something,' said Josie. 'We're near Frogley Heath, aren't we? It's only a five minute walk away. Let's go and visit Frogley Heath in 1517. See how much it has changed.'
'I don't mind where we go. Shall we take our bikes or leave them here?'
'We can't leave them here. Someone might steal them.'
Chris began to laugh. He laughed so much that his eyes began to leak.
Josie didn't share his amusement. 'Are you laughing at me?' she protested. 'Don't! Stop it! Tell me what you're laughing at.'
Chris had difficulty getting his words out. 'I'm . . . sorry. Oh dear, my chest hurts. Our bikes . . . will be perfectly safe because . . . we'll be back almost as soon as we've left.'
'Oh,' Josie said, feeling a bit silly that she hadn't worked it out for herself. 'All right — so I'm stupid and you're clever. Now stop laughing or I'll go without you.'