Knight of Betrayal: A Medieval Haunting (Ghosts of Knaresborough Book 1) Read online

  ‘At the beginning, yes, but Becket doesn’t want the archbishopric – he realises that it will cause problems and it will be impossible to marry his loyalty to Henry with duty and service to the Church.’

  ‘But if they’re such good friends, why doesn’t Henry listen to Becket?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Henry is a twelfth-century king – he listens to no man but himself,’ Helen said. ‘Basically, he’s a dictator who believes he has a divine right to rule and is always right.’

  ‘So, a typical man then,’ Sarah said with a laugh, but accepted with good grace the playful thump on the arm from her husband, Dan.

  ‘As I was saying,’ Helen’s voice projected once more, bringing the Castle Players to order. ‘Henry makes Becket archbishop, despite him not being ordained as a priest. Becket has no choice but to make the best of it, and chooses his role as the Church’s highest representative in England over friendship and Chancellor to King Henry II. He resigned as Chancellor . . .’

  ‘But is this important?’ Charlie asked. ‘What does it have to do with his murder? I thought that’s what the play’s about.’

  Helen sighed. ‘It is, but it’s also about the motivation and why a man who had been such a good and trusted friend of Henry’s ended up assassinated in his name. This is where it starts. Making him archbishop was Henry’s first mistake as far as Thomas Becket was concerned.’

  ‘Oh,’ Charlie said, nodding. ‘I see.’

  ‘From the top,’ Helen said.

  HENRY II (PAUL FULLER)

  Thomas, ’tis my will and pleasure that thee succeed Theobald in the archbishopric of Canterbury.

  THOMAS BECKET (CHARLIE THOROGOOD)

  ’Tis an honour too great, Sire. Why, look at me (indicates fine clothing). I am hardly a man suited to the purity, poverty and abstinence of this holy office.

  ‘Okay, stop there,’ Helen said. ‘Paul, Charlie, this is a monumental request, you sound as if Henry is asking directions to Canterbury not appointing a new archbishop. Give me more – emotion, import, passion. Try again.’

  HENRY II (PAUL FULLER)

  No better man can I depend upon to act as mediator ‘twixt King and Church. Together we shall bring England to glory.

  THOMAS BECKET (CHARLIE THOROGOOD)

  Sire, I would not gainsay thee, but consider it further, please. I would not the Church came betwixt us.

  ‘Enough,’ Helen shouted. ‘Paul, Charlie, I’m still seeing and hearing you up there – I need to see Henry and Becket.’

  ‘Well you’re not going to see them two, are you? Not when we’re dressed in jeans. It’s not exactly medieval costume.’

  ‘Costumes aside, you sound like Paul and Charlie, not Henry and Becket. We don’t have long to get this right, and it could be our big chance.’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’ Charlie said, sounding irritated.

  ‘Something a bit different,’ Helen said. ‘For all of us. We need to embrace the twelfth century – the culture, politics and the characters – and we need to do it quickly. Everyone on the stage, please, now. Paul, Charlie, will you bring that table into the centre? And we need chairs too.’

  *

  The octet of Castle Players sat around the circular table, most looking resigned to yet another game to release their inhibitions and take on the mantles of their characters. All but Helen and Sarah – they both seemed nervous, and Dan narrowed his eyes at his wife.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Charlie exclaimed when Helen produced the black and purple spirit board and placed it in the centre of the table.

  ‘You have got to be joking,’ Dan said.

  Helen looked at each of them in turn. ‘No, I am not joking. We need to do something to channel these characters. We’ve tried most of the usual exercises and nothing’s worked.’

  ‘Well it’s hard to play a man who’s nearly eight hundred and fifty years dead,’ Paul said.

  ‘I agree, so why not ask for help from the men themselves?’ Helen said.

  ‘Assuming I believe in ghosts, which I don’t,’ Charlie said, ‘why would their spirits come and talk to us?’

  ‘As you pointed out yesterday, there are so few surviving accounts of their lives – and all contradictory – why wouldn’t they want the truth of their lives told?’ Helen said.

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ Mike said. ‘I don’t like messing in things I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s okay, Mike,’ Sarah said. ‘The woman in the shop gave us loads of advice about how to use it properly and be safe.’

  ‘Us?’ Dan said. ‘So this is what your secret shopping trip was about?’

  ‘Helen asked me not to say anything,’ Sarah said, refusing to look at him, ‘not until she brought it up.’

  ‘Since when do you put your friends before your husband?’ Dan said, colour rising in his face.

  ‘When that friend is her and her husband’s director,’ Mike said, staring at Dan.

  ‘It’s my fault, Dan,’ Helen said. ‘If you’re angry at anybody, be angry at me, I’m the one who put Sarah in a difficult position.’

  Dan looked at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He played Reginald FitzUrse and was still hopeful of a promotion to Henry II or Becket should Paul or Charlie prove unequal to their roles. He did not want to antagonise the script writer and director; he would continue the discussion with Sarah, later, in the privacy of their home.

  Chapter 7

  ‘Are we seriously going to do this?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Helen said, ‘and please try to be positive, or at least have an open mind.’

  ‘Come on, Paul,’ Sarah said. ‘It might be fun and help us connect with the guys we’re playing.’

  ‘But we just— It’s not something to be messed with,’ Mike said.

  ‘Have you used it before?’ Sarah asked.

  Mike hesitated.

  ‘You have, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘At a party, years ago, these girls made one out of paper.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Not a lot really, the glass they used instead of that thing,’ he pointed at the triangular planchette, ‘flew across the room and smashed.’

  ‘Then what happened?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Nothing, we were all freaked out, so we burned it.’

  ‘Somebody just flicked the glass,’ Dan said with a smirk, ‘to freak you all out.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Mike shrugged. ‘But I don’t see how.’

  ‘You said it was at a party,’ Sarah said. ‘Were you all pissed?’

  Mike grinned. ‘Well . . .’

  ‘There you are then,’ Helen said. ‘Stop worrying. I know what I’m doing. Are we all ready?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Mike said. ‘But we stop if things get too weird, okay?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Helen said. ‘What about the rest of you?’

  The others shrugged or nodded with varying degrees of assuredness, which Helen took as assent. She placed her fingers on the planchette.

  ‘Paul and Charlie, you have the two main roles, I’d like you to touch the planchette as well, then everyone else put your hands on top.’ Helen said and waited until they’d complied.

  ‘Okay, I’m going to protect us first – we don’t want anything flung against walls,’ she said with a smile at Mike. ‘I call on our angel guardians and spirit guides to protect us here tonight.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Dan asked, pulling his hand away.

  ‘Yes, I am. Please, Dan, stay positive.’

  ‘But angels and spirit guides?’

  ‘Would you rather I called on the devil?’

  ‘No, of course not!’

  ‘Then let me carry on.’

  ‘I’d rather we at least put the intention out there for angels, Dan,’ Sarah said.

  Her husband stared at her, then returned his hand to the tower of fingers on the planchette.

  ‘Thank you, Dan,’ Helen said. ‘I call on our angel guardians and spirit
guides to be with us tonight as we try to contact Henry II, Thomas Becket, and Sirs Morville, FitzUrse, Tracy and Brett. We ask that you surround us in a protective white light and facilitate contact with the spirits we are asking to communicate with.’ She bowed her head and fell silent.

  ‘Did they answer you?’ Dan said. Helen ignored him.

  ‘Henry Plantagenet, Thomas Becket, Hugh de Morville, Reginald FitzUrse, William de Tracy, Richard le Brett, I humbly beg you to join us this evening, your presence is welcome and we would be honoured if you felt able to help us tell your story.’

  ‘Overdoing it a bit, isn’t she?’ Dan whispered to Sarah.

  ‘Shush. She’s speaking to medieval nobles, including a king. They would expect nothing less,’ Sarah hissed back. Dan shrugged.

  ‘Henry Plantagenet, Thomas Becket, Sir Hugh, Sir Reginald, Sir William, Sir Richard, will you speak to us? You are most welcome here.’

  Everybody stared at the planchette. It didn’t move.

  ‘Now what, oh high priestess?’ Dan said.

  Helen glared at him.

  ‘Maybe we’re asking for too much at once,’ Sarah said.

  ‘That sounds plausible,’ Paul said. ‘Why not focus on Henry and Becket first?’

  Helen nodded. ‘Good idea. Okay, just Paul, Charlie and myself touch the planchette.’

  ‘Why you, Helen?’

  ‘I’m acting as medium, Dan. The notes from the lady in the shop said one person should be in control of the board.’

  ‘And of course that’s you,’ Dan said under his breath.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Nothing. By all means carry on.’ Dan made an expansive gesture with his hands, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  Helen ignored him and looked at Paul and Charlie. ‘Ready?’

  They both nodded and Helen took a deep breath. ‘I humbly invite Henry Plantagenet, King of England, and Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, to join us,’ she said. ‘Are you there?’

  The planchette moved to point at the word yes on the board. Everybody – including Helen – gasped in surprise and lifted their hands away.

  ‘Who did that?’ Dan said. ‘Who moved it?’

  Helen, Paul and Charlie looked at each other – all innocent.

  ‘It must have been one of you,’ Dan insisted.

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Helen snapped. ‘Shall we continue before whoever it is leaves in disgust?’

  ‘I’d have thought both Henry and Becket would feel quite at home with this squabbling,’ Ed said, breaking the tension.

  Helen smiled, placed her fingers back on the planchette, and looked up at Paul and Charlie. ‘Well boys?’

  They glanced at each other, then followed Helen’s lead and assumed the Ouija position.

  ‘Who are you?’

  The planchette moved almost immediately and pointed at the letter H, then to the 2.

  ‘Are you Henry Plantagenet, the king of England we know as Henry II?’ Helen asked.

  The planchette moved to indicate yes, then moved back to the empty space in the middle of the board.

  ‘One of you is moving it,’ Dan said. ‘This isn’t real, it can’t be.’

  ‘Shh,’ said Paul.

  ‘Thank you, Sire, for joining us, you are most welcome and we are honoured you have chosen to be with us this evening.’

  No movement.

  ‘You need to ask a question,’ Sarah hissed.

  Helen swallowed. Deep down, she hadn’t thought this would work and hadn’t prepared any questions.

  Paul came to her rescue. ‘Greetings, King Henry. I am Paul Fuller and have the very great honour of representing you in our play.’

  Dan guffawed with laughter, and Sarah elbowed him to quiet him. Paul ignored him, and Sarah was the only one to see Dan’s look of anger.

  ‘I humbly beseech thee—’

  ‘He’s getting into the lingo now, at least,’ Dan mocked.

  ‘—to help me give a true and flattering portrayal of Your Majesty,’ Paul continued. ‘Would you be willing to help me tell your story?’

  The planchette stayed still, then shot back to yes.

  ‘My humble thanks, Sire.’

  ‘If anyone says humble one more time, I’ll sucker-punch them,’ Dan said, then screamed as his chair shot backwards, tipping him over and dumping him on the boards.

  ‘Nice try, Dan, grow up,’ Mike said.

  ‘That wasn’t me.’

  ‘So what, you do believe in ghosts now?’

  ‘It wasn’t me, the chair moved by itself!’

  ‘In that case, I suggest you show more respect, Dan,’ Mike said. ‘You are disrespecting the first Plantagenet king of England, the head of one of our greatest dynasties.’

  Dan said nothing, just glared at his fellow actors, then picked up his chair and gingerly sat down.

  ‘Come on, Paul,’ Sarah said, earning a more intense glare from her husband, which she ignored.

  Helen glanced between the two of them, concerned at the marital discord on display, but pushed her worries to one side for now, and turned her attention back to the spirit board, Paul and Charlie. ‘We all thank you for joining us, Sire,’ she said, ‘and apologise for our colleague’s cynicism. He means no disrespect.’

  Nothing. Helen looked at Paul, whose colour had drained to white.

  ‘Forgive me, Your Majesty,’ Charlie said into the silence. ‘May I respectfully ask if your great friend, Thomas Becket is with you?’

  The planchette vibrated, but did not move.

  ‘Ask Becket,’ Mike hissed and Charlie nodded.

  ‘Thomas Becket, are you here with us?’

  Again the planchette vibrated, then inched its way to yes.

  ‘Welcome, sir,’ Charlie said, swallowing. ‘I am humbled that you have chosen to join us and ask you the same question, would you be willing to help me tell the true story of your later life?’

  The planchette moved again to yes, then back to the empty place, then yes, back, yes over and over, gaining speed and ferocity.

  Charlie, Paul and Helen snatched their fingers away all at the same moment. ‘Hot,’ Helen said, protecting her fingers under her armpits. ‘It’s just got hot.’

  ‘But the room’s freezing cold,’ Sarah said.

  Helen looked around and shivered. Sarah was right. ‘When did that happen?’

  ‘The first time the planchette moved,’ Sarah said.

  Nobody spoke. All wondered what the hell they’d been thinking.

  ‘Our turn,’ Mike said and everyone looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. ‘Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? We’ve set this in motion, might as well follow it through. This is gonna be one kickass play,’ he said, shuddered and placed his right forefinger on the planchette.

  ‘Come on Sarah, Ed. Dan, are you up for this?’

  With all attention on him, Dan coloured then added his finger to the planchette. ‘If this goes tits‑up, it’s your fault, not mine.’

  ‘Way to be positive, Dan,’ Mike said. Everyone laughed and the atmosphere lightened.

  ‘Come on, Helen, you’re the medium, remember,’ Sarah said. ‘Give us your finger.’

  More laughter, and Helen complied. She took a deep breath, glanced at Sarah, Dan, Mike and Ed, who all looked apprehensive with their fingers on the planchette, despite the laughter and bravado.

  ‘Come on then, Helen, the surprise is killing me.’

  ‘Not the best choice of words, Ed,’ Alec pointed out.

  Helen broke the ensuing silence. ‘We are most grateful for the presence of King Henry and Archbishop Becket, and now respectfully ask that the barons and knights Morville, FitzUrse, Tracy and Brett also join us.’

  The planchette quivered.

  ‘Sir Hugh de Morville, are you here?’

  Yes

  ‘Sir Reginald FitzUrse . . .’

  The planchette moved away then back to yes before Helen could complete her sentence and Dan smirked at her.

&n
bsp; ‘Sir William de Tracy, are you here?’

  Yes

  ‘Richard le Brett, are you here?’

  No

  ‘No?’ Sarah exclaimed. ‘Why is my character the only one who says no?’

  ‘If he’s not here, how did he say no?’ Mike asked. ‘Ask again, Sarah.’

  ‘Sir Richard le Brett, are you here?’

  Yes

  ‘Ask again, best out of three,’ Alec suggested.

  ‘Sir Richard le Brett are you with us?’

  Yes

  ‘Our thanks and gratitude to you all,’ Helen said. ‘History is vague and we know not the true circumstances leading up to and after that fateful day of 29th December 1170 . . .’

  ‘Less speeches, more questions,’ Dan interrupted.

  Helen made to retort, then thought better of it. He was right. She looked at Charlie and Paul, then back at the planchette. They both understood and added their fingers to the others.

  Helen took a deep breath, then said, ‘Did you, King Henry, mean to order the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket?’

  Board, planchette and table were thrown against the back wall of the stage, only missing the heads of the assembled company because all eight of them were thrust backwards from the epicentre of their séance, their chairs splintering as they fell against the wooden boards of the stage.

  ‘I told you this was a bloody stupid thing to do,’ Dan shouted, the first to get to his feet. ‘We’ve messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. God knows what we’ve unleashed. Bloody stupid woman!’ He looked around, then added, calmer, ‘Where’s Helen?’

  The rest of the cast got to their feet, shocked, but only bruised, and looked around.

  ‘There! She’s down there,’ Sarah called, pointing to the front row of seats.

  ‘Shit,’ Paul said, and jumped off the stage. ‘Someone call an ambulance!’

  Chapter 8

  January 1170

  ‘There she is, Cnaresburg Castle,’ Hugh de Morville declared with evident pride as the knights emerged from the forest.

  ‘God’s blood, Hugh,’ FitzUrse said. ‘Even if Broc does turn the King against us, no bugger’s going to get to us up there.’