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  Bryn said nothing and Neets answered for him. “You’re going back to school and I’m going to be a maid.” I nearly fell into the trough as Bryn grinned, gave a grunt that to me was as good as saying gottcha!and walked back up the road leaving us to follow him in our own time.

  “You what?” I laughed, but I had a feeling my laughter would be temporary. “School? Me? Don’t talk such…” Suddenly tosh was definitely not strong enough a word and I left it as an unsaid blank. “I don’t believe it, you’re serious!”

  “It’s not my idea,” Neets protested, “and I don’t particularly want to wash dishes and make beds for Bryn’s father, but that’s what Marlene told Bryn we have to do, so we will.”

  “But she isn’t here.” I wasn’t going to take it lying down, or in any other position come to that. “Marlene can’t know what’s going on and deciding what we’re going to do from three hundred years away is just her being bossy again. Anyway, back home I’m already sort of at college and I’m way too old to go back to school.”

  “Not as a teacher you’re not.” Neets managed to keep a straight face. “It’s ironic really because you’re going to teach the young kiddies how to read and write. There should be some interesting spelling results by the time you’ve finished. Bryn’s arranging it all now.”

  I was only slightly annoyed. “And I’d like to see how many dishes survive after you’ve finished doing the washing up. Use ’em, smash ’em’s always been your idea of housekeeping. I suppose it’s the same with me and kids in a way. Should be interesting all round. Anyway, how can you be a maid in Bryn’s house now that his father knows we’re here? Your cover’s blown before you’ve even started.”

  Neets smiled and I knew Bryn had already thought of that. “Bryn says his father never goes into the servants’ quarters so he’ll never see me and certainly won’t expect you to be a teacher.”

  “You bet your life on that one! But I want to look around the house first, so I’m going to be maid number two for a few hours.”

  A cough from the shadow of a nearby house made us all turn.

  “There doesn’t seem anything for me to do then.” I’d almost forgotten my Inspector in the shock of becoming a teacher. “Your witch partner back in the 21st century seems to have left me out of her plans, so if nobody minds I’m going to do some snooping around and see what I can dig up using good old modern policing methods.” I suspected this might involve his truncheon again, but said nothing as he plodded out of the square in no particular direction.

  Bryn took us into the mansion’s scullery where amazingly the head housekeeper was expecting a new maid to start work just at that precise moment. I tried to explain that I was very temporary, like I’d be around for one day, and was actually the new school teacher, but she brushed aside my protests and insisted that a second permanent maid would be a nice bonus. Bryn had done his work well, the pig!

  To say that Mrs. Blodwyn Jones, our new boss, was on the large size would have been like saying Merlin was quite a good little conjuror, yet she immediately made us feel at home with a hot cup of tea and a slice of bread covered in beef dripping. With her rosy-cheeked complexion and healthy enthusiasm she was a country woman through and through and looked like everyone’s favorite granny. Well…auntie, maybe. She also laughed a lot seemingly out of genuine pleasure, which I found rather strange considering who the villainous master of the house was. Unless of course she was in the wrecking business and sank ships by jumping on them.

  Neets’s duties sounded simple enough and I thought very appropriate. Get up in the freezing cold before everyone else and make up fires in all the rooms, then prepare a morning cup of tea for all the other servants. Generally clean up throughout the day, making sure that all the washing and ironing is done on time, and then go to bed after everyone else once the fires have been damped down. She also had to do the dusting, which was about the only duty that could possibly put her face to face with Bryn’s father. For all this she was to be paid the sum of one shilling a week, with free food and her own room. Considering this was one shilling more than Merlin or Marlene had ever paid I reckoned she was well in. I decided to give it a day then become a teacher.

  We saw nothing of Bryn, though Neets did hear he’d been locked in his room until he learned not to meddle in other people’s business. Considering in Camelot the Black Knight’s normal punishment for a first minor offense had been death I reckoned he’d got off bloody lightly. Besides Bryn was upstairs gentry and we were downstairs maids, which said it all.

  That evening after all the chores had been completed and the dinner plates washed and stacked (at least those that weren’t smashed), Neets and I joined the others in the kitchen. Mrs. Jones, young David (who showed no sign that he recognized us), and the rest of the servants were sitting around the great fire when I broke the silence. “Mrs. Jones, please tell me about Mr. Lewis. I’ve heard so much about the man, but I’ve never seen a glimpse of him. What’s he like?”

  The housekeeper sipped her tea and smiled at the new English maids. Neets had given up trying to put on a Welsh accent within minutes. “If you must know,” she said, “and I’m not saying it’s your place to know, he’s a wonderful man, and there isn’t a person in our village who will say a word against him.”

  Probably got them all scared witless, I thought.

  “There are people round here who would have starved if it wasn’t for the master,” continued Mrs. Jones, “and others who wouldn’t have lived long enough to have even starved. The man’s a saint and I’m proud to be able to serve him, as are we all.”

  This did not sound like a frightened woman, nor did she seem particularly witless. Therefore she was obviously either very deluded, or an excellent actress and I decided that nobody was that good without being on the stage.

  “He’s seriously that nice?” I half expected a well he does eat babies for breakfast and murder people so he can relax at night as an alternative to a cup of hot milk, but other than that…. “I heard a rumor that he’s a smuggler, wrecks boats on the cliffs, and kills the sailors if they reach the shore.”

  Mrs. Jones moved so quickly that I thought she was going to smack me, but instead the housekeeper pushed herself forward so she was just inches from my face. She spoke very quietly, which made each word and syllable feel like a slap.

  “Never, ever let me hear you say anything like that again.” The words were hissed. “Don’t even think it. Your job is to serve and clear up here, not to pass judgment on people better than you’ll ever be.” Mrs. Jones eased herself back into her seat and gradually her face relaxed into a smile. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m sure you didn’t mean what you said, but round here Mr. Lewis is looked upon as a saint. And you don’t criticize a saint.” She threw her head back and roared with laughter.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones,” I said with what I hoped was suitable humbleness. “I wasn’t thinking. Please excuse me.” The atmosphere in the kitchens relaxed and the other servants returned to their own small conversations, soon forgetting the rude little foreign girl’s sideshow.

  “No problem, dear. I’ll put it down to the fact you’re English. Now it’s getting late, so you run along and do your chores. Take Unita with you.” She nodded towards my cousin sitting quietly in the corner. “You’ll have everything done twice as quickly then.”

  Neets and I made a beeline for the rear stairs and ran up them to the first-floor bedrooms. I was genuinely shocked by what had just happened in the kitchen. On one hand we knew that the Black Knight was an evil thug capable of murder and yet everyone seemed to think Bryn’s father was simply wonderful. It was all wrong. I opened the biggest, most ornate door, peeped in and knew at once I’d chosen the right one. “I want to turn down the bedclothes in Mr. Lewis’s room while he’s out and while we’re doing it see what we can find out about him. Something doesn’t add up.” I entered the room, making sure the place was deserted, and beckoned Neets to follow.

  “This is a man’s room,�
� she said looking at the furnishings. “There’s not a sign of a woman’s touch anywhere.”

  “A woman? Like who?”

  “His wife.”

  “I didn’t know Mr. Lewis was married? Nobody’s mentioned a wife.” I turned down the bedclothes, took the warming pan from its rest near the fire and slipped it between the sheets. “Besides, the thought of any woman falling in love with the Black Knight seems pretty incredible.”

  “Bryn told me she died soon after he was born,” Neets said, leaving me to do the work as usual, “and for months his father wouldn’t leave the house. He went into a shell, refused to talk to anyone and either brooded in his room or wandered aimlessly round the gardens. Everyone was very worried about him, but even more about Bryn. A boy needs a dad.”

  “So, what happened?” I’d started to rummage through the chest of drawers, looking for anything incriminating and making sure I put things back exactly where I found them like any good detective.

  “The strangest thing!” said Neets, letting me do the rummaging. “Everyone says that for a year or so this was a pretty lawless place before Bryn’s father came here. People didn’t dare go out at night, violence was rampant and the village had a terrible reputation for smuggling and wrecking ships to steal their cargo. This was not the sort of place people moved to out of choice, and those who lived here couldn’t move away. Then Mr. Lewis arrived.”

  “Ah, the Black Knight. So he took over and it all got worse?”

  “Apparently not,” said Neets. “He organized the village into a sort of local militia force, and made sure that if anyone was attacked, or even just threatened, they got justice. He was even made the local magistrate. And then Bryn’s mum died.”

  “And he started to brood?” I was still searching through the drawers.

  “Yes. And all the old villainy came back with a vengeance, far worse than before really, so that violence and even murders became common. The master, I mean Bryn’s dad, started to go out every night with his riders like he used to and things went downhill from there.”

  This time I did look up. “He still rides out every night with his men?”

  “Yes, and Bryn said he comes back the next morning looking dog tired. More often than not he’s soaking wet and covered in cuts and bruises.”

  “He’s not nipping down to the pub for a quick pint then.” I’d drawn a blank in the chest of drawers. “So where do you reckon he goes, Neets?” I closed the last drawer and moved over to the wardrobe opposite the window.

  “No idea. Out wrecking? But then Bryn says the villagers think he and his men are wonderful.”

  I carried on looking through the wardrobe and was beginning to think that Mrs. Jones might have been right after all about Mr. Lewis being a saint. Then I saw what I’d been looking for. “Found it!” I grabbed a bundle of clothes from the bottom of the wardrobe and threw them on the bed.

  “Found what?” Neets stared at the clothes. “It’s just a lot of old rags.”

  “Old clothes that look very familiar,” I said in triumph. I arranged the trousers, shirt, jerkin, hat and assorted accessories into the shape of a man and stood back looking thoughtful. “I’ve seen these before and not so long ago either.”

  “What do you mean?” Neets could be quite dense at times. “They’re just clothes. There’s nothing wrong with them.”

  “Only two things. They’re not from anywhere round here and they’re not even from this century. This is the sort of stuff people used to wear in Camelot about a thousand years ago.”

  “That’s clever, Tersh. And what’s the clincher, because there usually is one?”

  She was right, of course. “The clincher is this.” I pulled out a bundle from the rear of the wardrobe about the size of a football. With the flourish of a magician (or wizard if I’m going to be picky) I took off the rags and threw the Black Knight’s helmet on the bed. “There’s no doubt now, Neets. Whatever anybody says about him, Bryn’s father is our old enemy. He’s behind everything from smuggling and shipwrecking to the disappearance of Marble Arch and the replacement of Nelson’s statue with the far from statuesque me. Case mostly solved. All we need now is to catch him red-handed and find out why.”

  The problem was I had no idea what we were going to do next, except maybe get my Inspector Smollett to arrest him with his truncheon. I almost laughed.

  I looked out the window. The moon had just disappeared behind a cloud and there was the definite threat of a storm on the horizon. This was perfect wrecking weather and we now knew not only who was leading the wreckers, but we had proof of his real identity.

  We had to do something and soon before the Black Knight came after us.

  Chapter Five

  Teachers and Wreckers

  The next day I sort of gave my notice by sneaking out the back door and wandering down to the village to take up my true vocation as a teacher. The only person who saw me go was the ever-present David, who said nothing and gave me a smiley wave.

  The village school was a small building with classrooms either side of an entrance hall where coats and bags could be left. Above the door was a small sign Port Eynon Junior Skool. Est. 1718. Two things struck me. Firstly, the school was only 16 years old, and secondly whoever made the sign couldn’t spell. I was in good company.

  Bryn had told me the head teacher was a dragon, feared by every child in the area, but I decided it couldn’t be worse than facing up to the Black Knight and his murderous thugs when they raided my parents’ farm back in Camelot, so I flipped a mental coin, took a deep breath and opened the door to the classroom on the left.

  The room was packed and all conversation stopped as every face turned towards me. I smiled bravely and gave a small self-conscious wave. Some of the children waved back … girls not boys, I noticed.

  “Hi, everybody, I’m the new teacher,” I said cheerfully. I decided that cheerfully might just win everybody over. “My name’s Tertia and I’m here to… er, teach you. Well maybe not all of you. That is to say maybe none of you. Just those that the drag…sorry, the head teacher tells me to teach.” My brow was beginning to sweat and I wondered briefly if Mrs. Jones would take me back as a downstairs maid. This teaching business was tough.

  The woman sitting behind a large desk at the front of the room stood up, stared at me for several painfully stern seconds before lighting up the room with the most radiant smile I’d ever seen. She beckoned me forward.

  “Welcome, my dear,” she said, greeting me like an equal. “I was told we could expect you, but I must admit I was expecting another old dragon like myself, not someone actually nearer the children’s age than mine. Children, say hallo to Miss Tertia. I think that is your name?”

  The whole class stood up and bowed. Most of the kids were grinning broadly and not one looked in the slightest bit scared of the dragon. I began to wonder just how many days of school Bryn had actually skipped and how many he’d attended. I wondered whether he’d even met the head teacher, whose name I discovered was Miss Jones. Another odd coincidence.

  “Boys and girls,” Miss Jones said in that lecturing voice used by all teachers, “I want you to read the second chapter of our new book while I talk to Miss Tertia for ten minutes. Remember, silence, because I will be able to hear you.”

  In the small garden Miss Jones sat on a rustic bench, looked at the view over the village towards the bay and smiled. She motioned to me and patted the seat. “Sit down, dear, and tell me about yourself as I want to know everything; where you come from, where you’ve taught before and what your specialty is. Don’t be shy. Then I’ll tell you about myself.”

  I was tempted to suggest Miss Jones should go first because frankly I couldn’t answer a single one of her questions without looking stupid and like a liar. I reckoned I could get away with being one, but not both. I took a deep breath.

  “I’m not from round here,” I said, “I’m from a place called…”

  “Yes, England I know. Don’t worry, the children are
fairly broad-minded.”

  “Ah, good,” I said with a great deal of relief because saying I was from Camelot could have caused problems, “but I’m afraid I haven’t done much teaching, at least not what you might call the basic subjects.” It was probably not the time to mention wizardry and an ability to turn people into rabbits as my only qualifications.

  Miss Jones tapped me on the arm. “In this day and age it’s good to find any teacher, never mind someone who specializes. The important thing is to teach the children what you know.”

  Good idea, I thought, that’s the morning taken care of.

  “I always find a nature walk is good after lunch.” It was as though Miss Jones had been reading my mind. “They love walking around the cliffs and on a nice day you couldn’t ask for a more beautiful place to go for a stroll.”

  For November the day was relaxingly warm and I was beginning to feel I might actually like this teaching business as Miss Jones continued talking as though what she said wasn’t really important, until…

  “Was Camelot as nice as my village?” She waited for my reaction.

  “Oh, tosh!” I said after a pause and a gasp. “How did you know? I mean I didn’t let on and I didn’t drop any clues, so who told you?”

  Miss Jones shrugged. “I rather think I’d have guessed you weren’t a real teacher given a couple of minutes, but you’re right, I was told by Bryn.”

  “But he said you were an old dragon.”

  “Yes, but did he tell you I’m his aunt as well?”

  “You’re kidding!” I nearly shouted. “No, he bloody well didn’t. He’s going to pay for this.” I jumped up and hit my left palm with my right fist.

  Miss Jones laughed. “I don’t doubt it, but he felt you’d be safer working undercover with me. You are after all a detective, I believe?”