Chapter 34
Tylers Barn, Wealdshire. 1517
An hour before midnight, Josie and Chris began preparing for Simon's arrival. They needed to decide where each of them would wait and how they would go about scaring the living daylights out of him. They practised quietly for half an hour and then settled down on the opposite side of the road to wait for him.
'Are you scared?' Josie whispered.
'Too right, I am. I'm absolutely petrified but, with a bit of luck, Master Simon is going to be even more terrified. What about you?'
'I'm shaking like a leaf. Do you think he will turn up?'
'Depends if he's set his alarm clock.'
'Idiot! But how will he know when it's midnight?'
'He'll probably take a look at his sundial.'
'Idiot again!'
'Have clocks been invented yet?'
'I dunno. If they haven't, he could turn up at any time.'
'I hope we'll be able to see him. He'll probably be carrying a lamp of some sort.'
'Shhh. I heard something.'
'So did I. It's behind us.'
'Just keep still.'
The twins froze and waited. Something was moving towards them through the undergrowth. Josie felt a scream waiting to burst from her throat. Just as she felt that she could hold it in no longer, she saw what was making the sound. A short distance from them, a solitary fox was padding along and sniffing the ground. Every now and then it stopped to scrape at the earth and munch whatever tasty morsel it had found.
'I nearly died,' gulped Josie. 'Weren't you scared?'
'Uh . . . yes.'
A few moments later another fox appeared — a sly fox. This one had a name.
'There he is,' whispered Chris. 'He's just going into the barn. Remember the commands — light, tape, spray, snow. Let's go.'
Simon Houghton moved cautiously into the barn and called softly, 'Thomas. Art thou here?' Hearing no reply, he edged in a bit further and called again. The wretch has either not arrived yet or has fallen asleep, he decided.
He whirled round as he heard a sound outside. Footsteps coming slowly towards him. Was this Thomas playing tricks? 'Thomas,' he called, 'what art thou doing?' There was no reply — and the footsteps ceased.
Simon could see a vague, dark shape silhouetted against the faint light of the doorway. It did not look like Thomas. He was about to march forward and confront the person when a hideous face suddenly appeared. It was illuminated so brightly that he could see every detail of the ghastly face. It looked like the devil himself. Simon shrieked and fell to his knees.
Chris, wearing his Dracula mask, had switched on the cycle lamp which was taped to his chest so that the beam shone upwards. He had heard Simon's shriek but couldn't see what the youth was doing. Okay, thought Chris, a few seconds of this and then some lights. 'Light!' he hissed, as eerily as he could.
Simon, quivering on his knees, was riveted to the ghastly face. He wanted to bury his own face in the straw on the ground but couldn't tear his gaze away from those evil eyes. He fell backwards as two powerful beams of light appeared without warning. He felt them burning through his eyes and into his brain.
Ah-ha, thought Josie having switched the two torches on, so that's what the nasty little worm looks like. Certainly doesn't look very capable of much naughtiness tonight. What's the next step?
'Spray,' called Chris.
Josie carefully lowered the two torches until they were on the ground, and then pushed straw under the front of each one so that the beams were still pointing at Simon's face. She took the cap off the can of 'Desert Breeze' air freshener and felt for the nozzle so that she didn't spray herself. She held the can up and gave Simon a 20-second squirt. (They'd argued for ages about the usefulness of an air freshener but finally decided that the more of Simon's senses they could confuse, the better chance they had of scaring him.) When she heard Simon coughing and spluttering, she knew the aerosol had been worth bringing.
When Chris called 'snow' she swapped cans and gave Simon a good dose of artificial snow. As it tumbled into the beams of light it looked as if it was falling from a hole in the roof. It was difficult to know whether Simon was enjoying the special effects, however, as he had now decided that it might be best after all to bury his face in the straw.
'Tape!'
Josie pressed the 'play' button. This will really finish him off, she thought.
The eerie sound that Chris had created (by slowing down a sample of a wolf howling and adding lots of echo) filled the barn. I'm scared witless and I know what it is, reflected Josie. He must be filling his pants — if he hasn't done so already. Then the voice began to speak.
'Simon Houghton, stay where thou art. I am here to avenge the injustice done by you to Caleb and Sarah. You stole your father's goblet. Thou art a thief. Thou art a fiend. I will banish you to the fiery depths of hell if you do not listen to me and do as I say. You will stay here all night. In the morning you will go to your father and confess all. You will tell him that you stole the goblet. You will say that Caleb and Sarah are innocent. Do not try to trick me for I will be listening. If you do not do as I say — I will haunt you for the rest of your short and miserable life. You will be unable to sleep for I will pierce your eyes with spears of ice and thrust hot pokers into your ears. Be warned, Simon Houghton. I am here and here I will remain until justice has been done.'
'Let's go!'
Josie didn't want to go just yet. She felt a bit guilty about the fact that she was thoroughly enjoying the treatment they were dishing out to Simon, but she wasn't going to let a little thing like guilt stop her having her final bit of fun. Armed with her two aerosols, she stepped right up to Simon and gave him a good squirt from both. That should help to keep tonight's events fresh in his mind, she thought. His hair and clothes will be sticky and stinking for days.
There wasn't a sound from Master Houghton as the twins gathered up all their gear, raced outside to where their bikes were parked, and made their way along the track for some distance before stopping and strapping everything onto their carriers.
Simon Houghton lay motionless in the straw for the best part of an hour. He had heard stories of visitations. Now he believed in them. Maybe his father really had seen imps. The creature which had visited him this night had been real. He hadn't dreamed it and no-one had been playing tricks on him. Those lights were far brighter than any he had ever seen before, apart from the sun. Somehow, the creature was able to trap sunlight and release it in a powerful beam. The smell. The smell of the creature. It was still on him. Would it be with him for always? And what was this sticky substance which coated his body? When he had peeped through his fingers, he thought he had seen snow falling. But snow does not fall at this time of year. It was the creature's spittle. And now he was covered in it. But far, far worse had been the creature's voice. Infernal. Hellish. Diabolical. Terrifying. What had it said? That he had to confess his sins to his father? He wasn't sure if that would be any less terrible than what he had just witnessed. At least this creature had not damaged his body. His mind — yes. He was sure he had nearly been driven insane. But it hadn't taken a riding whip and thrashed his back. Perhaps it would next time, though, if he didn't obey its commands. Perhaps it would do far worse things than whip him. It had threatened to pierce his eyes and ears. Oh yes — he was quite sure it was capable of doing that. He had better work out the best way of confessing his misdeeds to his father.