The Holmes Chapel Tales - Tale of the Skeleton Army

Tale of the Skeleton Army

Once out of the new estate, James rode like a maniac. Thunder rumbled over head and the sky had turned so dark, that a few of the street lights had begun to flicker on.
By the time he'd reached Macclesfield road, huge spots of rain had begun to splat down on to the pavement around him. At first they were few, but by the time he'd reached saltersford corner, and was preparing to descend down in to the valley, a torrential downpour of rain had begun. Within seconds James was sodden, his clothes and his hair clinging to him, as he tried to keep control of his bike, as he raced down in to the valley. There was no time for taking in the view, or admiring the viaduct... He just wanted to deliver his paper and get home. He cursed himself for having lingered too long in the new estate.
Just then, a heart warming sight appeared ahead of him. The warm orange bricks of Dane cottage seemed to glow amongst the damp fields of the valley, light glowing from its little, almost porthole like windows, the smell of smoke in the air which told James that Mrs. Crabtree had a fire lit.
James quickly abandoned his bike on the dirt lay by, raced through the little gate, and straight to the front door of the cottage. He went to take out the paper, when he realised, if he just left the paper wedged under the door knocker as usual, the paper would get ruined, and his journey down here would have been a wasted one. So for the first time, James actually used the door knocker for its purpose, and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door was answered, and there stood a rather bemused looking Mrs. Crabtree, a wave of warmth hitting James as the door opened.
"James!" Exclaimed Mrs. Crabtree in shock. "What on earth are you doing out in weather like this?"
"I'm delivering your paper." Answered James, handing the rather damp paper over and wiping the rain from his eyes. "I didn't want it to get wet, so thought it best to hand it to you in person."
Mrs. Crabtree looked the boy up and down and took pity.
"Come in here at once!" She announced. "You'll catch your death of cold out there in this weather... And I don't want an angry phone call from your mother when your ill!"
James didn't need to be asked twice, and with no small amount of relief crossed the threshold of the cottage, the warmth from within enveloping him as Mrs. Crabtree closed the door behind him.
"Come and sit by the fire... Dry off. I'll make us both a cup of tea while we wait for this storm to pass." Said Mrs. Crabtree. The old woman then disappeared through a door at the back of the small living room, in to what James guessed was the kitchen.
Directly next to the fire were two chairs sitting on opposite sides of the hearth. The first was a plush, cushioned chair, covered in a floral pattern. The chair was clearly Mrs. Crabtree's. Balanced on the arm of the chair, was a book with some reading glasses balanced on top of that. The book was 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight'.. An odd choice of reading James thought.
The second chair, directly opposite the first couldn't have been any more different. It was a wooden, antique chair, very plain and austere, and James was worried about damaging the chair by just sitting on it. In the end, he chose the middle path. Right in front of the fire was a small wooden stool, which appeared to be the same as the antique chair in both age and design. On this, right in front of the fire, James chose to sit.
The warmth of the fire began to work straight away, the heat seeming to sear the wet out of his clothes and from his hair. As he sat taking in the warmth, he also took in the room in which he now sat.
For the most part, the interior of the cottage was pretty much what he'd imagined. Antique furniture, knick-knacks and ornaments covering every surface, and old pictures hanging on the walls. The only surprise to the room, was a large rifle hanging over the fireplace. James stared at the gun with a certain amount of fear. He'd never been so close to a gun before. He'd grown up in the countryside... But shooting was something other people did... Not him.
"I see you've met Frankie!" Came the voice of Mrs. Crabtree suddenly, and James jumped, immediately removing his eyes from the gun on the wall and to the old woman who was now re-entering the room. In her hands she carried a tray with a pot a tea, two cups and saucers, a sugar bowl and small jug of milk. And on the side were too rather large slices of Victoria sponge cake. She put the tray down on a small wooden table next to her cushioned chair, and then glanced at the gun, with a fondness in her eyes.
"She was my fathers!" She announced. "He loved to go hunting. Nothing big mind. Just a few rabbits from time to time... Maybe a pheasant if we were lucky!" She smiled once more, and then sat herself down.
Mrs. Crabtree then began to pour tea in to the two cups sat next to her on the tray.
"Do you take sugar?" She asked.
"Erm.. Yes... Two please!" Answered James. He'd never really been all that fond of tea, but it was rude to say no to tea when it was being offered, this he'd been taught.
Being British meant certain things, especially living in the north of England. Friday night was fish and chips night, that was just how it was. You were always to apologise for your actions, even when you hadn't done anything particularly wrong. And, when offered a cup of tea, especially as a guest in someone else's house, you were never to refuse, for that was impolite!
Milk was added to the tea, and then Mrs. Crabtree gave both cups a flamboyant stir. She then handed James his tea, and to show how polite he really was, James immediately took a slurp of the sugar laden substance in his cup, and added a smile. Mrs. Crabtree smiled back, and took a polite little sip of her tea, and then put it to one side.
The two of them sat there for quite some time in almost complete silence, the only sound was that of the flickering fire on the hearth, and the occasional slurp of tea. Soon the cake had been offered, and this was something that James didn't only say yes to out of politeness. He loved cake... All kinds of cake. But this sort was his favourite. It was obviously home made, the sponge moist and light, with just the right amount of cream and jam running through its centre. He'd wolfed down the fairly large slice of cake before Mrs. Crabtree had even attempted a nibble at hers.
Once James had finished his cake, Mrs. Crabtree began the inevitable conversation that James had been waiting for.
"Shocking weather this, isn't it?" She said. James turned momentarily to look at the window behind him, glancing what looked like a sheet of water falling in front of the window.
"I know!" He answered. "It was quite nice this morning... You wouldn't believe it was the same day!" Mrs. Crabtree nodded in agreement.
"I suppose it's ruined your plans for the rest of the day... This ghastly weather!" Mrs. Crabtree added. James just shrugged his shoulders and took another swig of his tea.
"Not really!" Came his answer. "I was probably only going to watch some TV anyway."
"Oh.. I see!" Said Mrs. Crabtree, looking a little bemused by James's answer. "But I'm sure you've had all manor of adventures this summer?" She added.
"Yeah... Some.. I guess!"
"When I was s girl.." Began Mrs. Crabtree, ".. Me, my brother and sister would spend hours out in the fields and the woods having lots of adventures. We'd leave home with first light, and wouldn't return until the sun was setting. There wasn't anywhere else more enchanting or exciting to play than Holmes Chapel!"
James choked on his tea, and he couldn't help but smile.
"I'm sorry, have I said something amusing?" Asked Mrs. Crabtree.
"No... No!... It's just... Hearing you call Holmes Chapel 'exciting'... I just find it a bit funny!" Said James.
"And what do you find funny about that?" Asked the old woman, suddenly looking a little bit mad. James realised that maybe he'd spoken out of line.
"I'm sorry!" He said. " I didn't mean to offend. Holmes Chapel's great and everything... I love living here! I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. But this place isn't exactly exciting. Nothing ever happens here... At least nothing exciting!"
"Is that so." Said Mrs. Crabtree, slumping slightly into her cushioned chair, looking a little deflated. There was a long pause, and James continued to slurp at his tea, suddenly wishing the storm would pass a lot quicker than it so far was. When all of sudden, out of know where, a wry little smile began to grow across Mrs. Crabtree's face, and a twinkle began to shine in her eyes. She slowly leant forward, picked up her tea, took a sip, and then spoke.
"Tell me James?" She asked. "Have they only found one skeleton, or have they found them all?"
"No... They've only found one so far, but....." James froze! At no point during their conversation had James even hinted at the discovery of a skeleton... Never mind more than one! A shiver ran his spine, and for the first time he looked at the old woman completely differently.
"I never... How did you?.... Are you a witch or something?" Asked James, stumbling to make sense of the situation. The question had been a ridiculous one, and Mrs. Crabtree laughed.
"No... I'm not a witch James!" She answered with a smile.
"Then how do you know about the skeleton? It's literally just been dug up!"
"Let's just say a little friend of mine told me, and leave it at that for now!" Answered the old woman, her smile broadening. The fire crackled on the hearth, but James felt cold and numb. He didn't understand what was happening.
"You said.. 'Have they found them all?'. Continued James. "Are you saying that there are more of these skeletons?"
"Oh yes!" Answered Mrs. Crabtree looking rather saddened by this. "I'm sure there are a couple of thousand yet to find!" And she stared in to the fire with a solemn expression upon her face, but not a hint of surprise. James on the other hand could barely contemplate the shocking news. He had so many questions, but he didn't know which to ask first.
"But... Why? Why are they here?... And why are there so many?... Who were they?" Came James's questions thick and fast.
"The story of those skeletons is one of the saddest and most solemn of all the Holmes Chapel Tales!" She answered.
"The Holmes Chapel... What?!" Was James's shocked reply.
"The Holmes Chapel Tales! They are a series of ancient stories, cataloging the secret history of this village and the lands of the Dane Valley!" Answered Mrs. Crabtree, her response almost nonchalant, as if James was to understand what 'The Holmes Chapel Tales' were!
"You've lost me!" Said James. "I didn't know Holmes Chapel even had a single 'tale'... Never mind many!"
"That is why it's called a secret history, James!...know one except a few have ever heard them!" The look of confusion on James' face was even greater now than a moment before, so Mrs. Crabtree attempted to explain.
"All places have histories, James.." She began. "... That much is obvious. It's just that some places have far more... "Normal"... histories than others. Holmes  Chapel has a far more... Colourful history, shall we say. Perhaps a little too colourful!"
"But I've seen Holmes Chapel's history!" Interrupted James. "And... Well... It was a bit boring!" As he said it, James recalled a wet afternoon at primary school, learning about Holmes Chapel's history from a book not much thicker than a pamphlet. He remembered something about a 'great fire', and a battle during the civil war, but that was about it; pretty boring for the history of an English village.
"That's  the interesting thing about history though, isn't it." Said Mrs. Crabtree with a smile. "For a history to exist, it must first be written down. If it's not written down and catalogued, it becomes a tale, and nothing more. Sometimes tales become histories, like Robin Hood and King Arthur... But sometimes the opposite happens, and a history of true events, become tales. This sometimes happens because that past is so strange and outlandish, that it cannot be accepted as 'real'... But other times, a place, can choose to forget it's own history for fear of what remembering it may stir up! These places... Like Holmes Chapel, gain secret histories, told to only a few, and passed on, generation after generation, so that they aren't completely forgotten."
James still looked completely confused. Why a place would ever choose to forget it's own past was beyond comprehension for him. Surely Holmes Chapel's past couldn't be that bad. Mrs. Crabtree continued.
  "My family were one of only a few, tasked with passing the tales on. We were called the 'tale keepers', and we and we alone knew all the many secrets of Holmes Chapel's past."
"There were all sorts of tales. Funny ones, scary ones. Tales of unrequited love, and of murder and intrigue, but the tale that concerns those skeletons is without a doubt one of the darkest, and saddest to have played out in these lands."
"Would you tell me the tale?" Asked James tentatively. Mrs. Crabtree smiled.
"If I were to tell you the tale, I would be breaking the oath of the Tale Keepers!" Answered Mrs. Crabtree. "If I was to do that, I would need something in return from you?" James gave an involuntary gulp.
"What?" He asked.
"I would need you... To believe me... To trust what I've said... And to help me with a certain task." James wasn't sure if he should agree or not, but he was desperate to hear the tale!
"Ok!" James announced. "I'll do whatever you say!" Mrs. Crabtree smiled again.
"The Holmes Chapel Tale which concerns those skeletons," she began, "is known as 'The Tale Of The Skeleton Army'." James settled in for a good story.
"The tale begins many thousands of years ago, before Holmes Chapel was here, before any human settlement was here. When these lands were very different, and ruled by a very different set of beliefs."
"Our ancestors beliefs, were pagan, meaning that they didn't only have one God, but many... And those Gods didn't reside within a church or cathedral. The world itself was their church."
"Every forest and wood. Each river and lake. The mountains and the hills all had there significance, and were home to their Gods. But water in particular was special to them, for they believed that water was a gateway between our world... The mortal realm... And the afterworld, which was home to their ancestors."
"Where ever there was water in abundance, you would find shrines, and points of offering, for our ancestors to connect with theirs."
"This land however, had something very special about it. Though the ancients believed that their Gods were everywhere, they also recognised there were certain places where all their Gods resided together. These lands were just that... In fact... These lands were some of the most important anywhere in the country. A holy land of sorts."
James had a confused expression on his face.
"What was so special about here?" He asked, with a tone which suggested he didn't think Holmes Chapel deserved this 'special' title.
"Lots of things James!" Answered Mrs. Crabtree. "You're just looking at these lands with modern eyes. Five thousand years ago, these lands were covered by a deep and ancient forest, home to a great number of mystical creatures the likes of which you would only hear about in fairy tales today."
"But what really made these lands special, was the water. Wedged between two sacred rivers, the lands between were an important meeting place. Between the two rivers, a natural spring burst from the ground, a true link to the underworld. But most importantly of all, were the marshes!"
"Do you know what The name Holmes chapel means, James?" Asked Mrs. Crabtree. James shrugged his shoulders.
"The name 'Holmes' is and Anglo Saxon word, that has its origins in a far older, Norse word, 'hulme'. It's from the Vikings that our lovely river Dane gets its name. But the word 'hulme' meant... 'Hill amongst the marshes'. It refers to the hill upon which the church is built in the centre of the village, sat high above the low, marshy grounds of the valleys both to the north and south of it."
James still didn't quite understand the significance of this.
"Though we would think today, of marshland as a problem, or the sort of place we wouldn't want to be," continued the old woman. "To our ancestors, there was no holier sight than an expanse of marsh or swamp. They were considered a sort of half way land... Half way between the mortal realm and the after world... Both land, and water, merged together. Put that together with the ancient forest, the natural spring, and the two sacred rivers!.. This place was like Mecca to our ancestors."
"These lands were so important, that despite the rich soil, the clean drinking water, and the Prime location, no tribe ever lay claim to these lands, and it was thousands of years before any human ever settled here!"
James had never thought about Holmes Chapel in that way before.
"But by around four thousand years ago, a change had started to take place in the beliefs of these lands." Continued Mrs. Crabtree. "Some gods were forgotten, and other gods came in to favour, and the land itself was suddenly viewed very differently. As farming took hold, and land was cleared, tribes that had been separated by vast distances, suddenly found themselves living right along side one another. This of course created conflict, and tribes across the country began to seek out Virgin territories, where their tribes could grow."
"For the first time, these lands, once considered too holy to build upon, were viewed with lustfulness. But there were problems with that. The first problem was that these lands were not only coveted by one tribe, but by three. One from the north, one from the south and one from the west."
"Each tribe had set there sights on these lands, and none of them were going to back down. And so it was decided, the only way to settle who had the rightful claim, was to fight it out in these lands themselves. Whichever tribe remained standing at the end would rightfully claim the land as theirs."
"These sort of battles to the death were not an uncommon thing in ancient Britain, but what was uncommon was this land itself. The tribes had underestimated the ancient spirits and gods that lingered here. And one in particular would change everything, forever."
"One God that called these lands home was very different from the rest. A God of revenge, of hatred and of death. When this god learnt that these three tribes were to fight over these holy lands, the God became angered."
"Eventually the three tribes met in an open meadow, somewhere to the east of what is today Holmes Chapel. They planned to fight to the death, until only one tribe remained standing. What none of them knew, was that they were cursed before even the first blow was struck."
"The battle of the three tribes went on for hours, but when the final blow came, not a single man or woman remained standing. The God of death had cursed them to die. But the curse was even worse than that. Not only would the tribes die in battle, but their bodies would remain stuck to the ground, unable to be properly buried. And worse still, the most terrible part of the curse, was that the souls of these fallen tribes would never be able to leave their mortal bodies, glued to their rotting corpses for all eternity. Never to pass on in to the realm of their ancestors."
"When what had happened reached the surviving members of the three tribes, and when the curse that had befallen them was realised, something happened then that had never happened before. The people of these lands, and the remaining members of the three tribes, turned their backs on the God of death, never to worship her again. When this happened, the God lost her power. Her shrine was dismantled, here statue forgotten, and the stone of offering that had once stood in the God of deaths shrine now became a marking stone, to mark the burial site of the cursed army."
There was a long moment of silence. The fire had died to a small and feeble glow, as if in recognition of the sadness of the tale.
"How sad!" Said James. "All those people... Killed by some evil God!... Is that the end of the tale?"
Mrs. Crabtree looked at James with a strange expression, that let James know that this wasn't the end of the story at all.
"No!" She answered, but she didn't seem very pleased about that. As though something about the next part of the tale made her uncomfortable.
"If there was any justice in the world, that should have been the end of the tale." She began. "But it was not."
"Many centuries past. The beginnings of the Holmes Chapel you know today began to take shape, and a new religion, Christianity now ruled over these lands. But despite this, the story of the ancient, cursed army, was still well known, and up until about twelve hundred years ago, the stone that marked the skeletons burial site still remained standing."
"Over the years a great many elders, magicians and self declared wizards had passed through these lands, and attempted to free the souls of the cursed army... But all attempts had been to no avail! Then one day, a powerful sorcerer came here, and feeling great sadness upon hearing the tale of the skeleton soldiers, decided to try and help."
"First he cast a spell in to the stone that marked the burial site, which would raise the bones of the armies from the ground, breaking the first part of the curse. Next, he cast a second part of the spell in to the stone. This was the most powerful part of the spell, which effectively would break the curse of the God of death completely, and free the soldiers souls!"
"So... How come the bones are still there then?" Asked James.
"The sorcerer was greatly powerful, but he had massively underestimated just how much power it would take just to create a series of spells capable of breaking the curse. So when he came to actually cast his spells, he found all his power had been drained, and was unable to achieve his final goal."
"The sorcerer said that only another being of incredible power could ever successfully cast the spells, and break the curse... But at least now there was a hope that the curse could be broken! Unfortunately, the spell stone, as it now became know, brought about a new set of problems."
"It quickly became apparent that not everyone visiting the spell stone, simply wanted to help break the curse. The problem was that the spell was in two parts... And the first part involved raising the skeletons from the ground. It didn't take long for those who sought influence and power to begin to think, that if they could somehow raise those bones from the ground, and bend them to their will, they would have an immortal army which could never be defeated!"
"Upon realising that the spell stone, and story of the skeleton soldiers was attracting the wrong sort of attention, the people of the young Holmes Chapel chose to remove the spell stone, so that it would no longer serve as a marker. The stone was then split in two, and the part of the spell which would raise the bones from the earth was given over to the still, very much present, ancient and mystic creatures that still called theses lands home, for safe keeping."
"With the two halves of the stone hidden, the people of the village then chose to forget the tale of the skeleton soldiers... To make it secret, in the hope that Holmes Chapel would never again attract the power mad and wealth hungry. But all these efforts were in vain."
"Someone of immeasurable evil and terror had heard the tale, and was about to flip this village on its head. That man, was the Black Knight!"
James looked at Mrs. Crabtree with confusion once more. He'd heard that name before!
"I know what you're thinking!" Said Mrs. Crabtree. "You've heard of the Black Knight, haven't you? The Black Knight has featured in many a tale of evil and darkness... But each fictional character that you've ever heard of, are all based upon a very real man, who's real name has long been forgotten by time, but who's actions of terror seemed to match perfectly with his jet black suit of armour, which he never removed."
"By the thirteenth century, England was a country in turmoil, constantly embroiled in scandal and war. Conflict was a way of life, and barely a week went by without someone trying to overthrow the king."
"One such would be over thrower, was the Black knight! He raised an army, and marched on London. But despite the black knights ferocious reputation, and battle hardened army, he was defeated and forced to flee!"
"He, and what was left of his army, fled northwards, eventually finding themselves in the hills to the east of here, the Pennines. It was whilst in hiding in those hills, that the Black knight was first told a tale. A tale of a small village to the west, which was said to sit on top of the burial site of an ancient and cursed skeleton army. And that there was a spell that could raise that army from the ground, and give it new life!"
"This was the unexpected answer to the Black knights woes! He may have been unable to defeat the king with a mortal army... But with an army of the dead at his command, he would be unstoppable! But.. There was still a problem to overcome. Despite his fearsome reputation, the black knight was still a mortal man. He had no way of raising a cursed army from the ground. Only a being of incredible power could achieve such a goal. And it just so happened, that not too far away such a being existed!"
"Whilst hiding in the hills, he heard another tale, of an ancient demon that was causing great destruction in another part of the Pennines. This demon was known only as the Witch of the Hills, and was a truly evil and demonic force."
"A witch?!" Spluttered James suddenly, his expression a questioning one.
"When I say witch.. I don't refer to some haggard old woman, with green skin and a pointy hat. That is a much later idea, which mortal men conjured to try to wheedle out satanists in their midst... Most of which, according to them were mortal women."
"The meaning of the word 'witch' here however, is in many respects the true meaning of the name... A demon... Born in the fires of hell themselves, and then set upon the earth to cause devastation and destruction. There are perhaps feminine features to this hellish creature, but there certainly isn't anything even remotely mortal about the witch of the hills!"
"This demon however, caused yet another problem for the knight! She was a demonic force, which showed allegiance to no living thing. All the witch wanted to do to the life forms that came before her, was destroy them. And despite the Black Knights dark and sinister soul... The soul of a living, mortal man he still had, never the less. The witch was as likely to kill the knight, as any man that came before her. But there was a way around this!"
"The Black knight was then told of a sword, hidden in a cave, just to the north. The sword was known only as the demon sword. It was said, that this weapon could not only kill a demon... But it could also force a demon to fall under the command of whoever possessed it!"
"The Black Knights quest began, first seeking out and finding the demon sword. Then when the sword was found, the knight sought out the witch."
"When he found her, the witch, possibly for the first time in all her existence, listened to the words of a mortal man, because the sword he carried protected him from her powers. But the Black Knights plan interested the witch! The Black knight promised her, that if she aided him, and rose the skeleton army from the ground... He would gift on to her half of whatever they conquered to do with what she wanted. With that, an allegiance of terror was formed... And the knight, the witch and what was left of the Black Knights army made their way west, heading for Holmes Chapel."
"When they reached these lands, they arrived like a sudden terrible storm. Many were murdered at the hands of the Black knight and his army... Houses were burnt... Destruction and devastation ruled! Before long, everyone who could leave, had done, leaving the ruins of the village completely under the rule of the knight and his witch!"
"Yet despite having know one left to stop them, and with all the might of the witch, there was still a problem. The burial site of the skeleton army could not be found!... And even if the bones had of been found.. The spell stone... The very thing needed to raise the bones from the ground was missing!"
"For nearly a year, the black knight, his army and the witch ravaged these lands in search of the skeleton army and spell stone, but to no avail."
"By this time, the villagers who had escaped were ready for change. They sought out the ancient and mystic creatures of the Dane valley to aid them and help them rid the land of the evil that had claimed it. This the ancient ones agreed to... And in a swift counter attack, the witch was captured, followed soon by the Black Knights army... And then, finally the Black Knight himself!"
"First... The witch had to be punished. The ancients knew of a place where the witch could be imprisoned and held safely for all eternity... A place known only as 'The Hollow'."
"Imprisoned?" Questioned James. "Surely with all the destruction she had caused... They'd want her dead!"
"And you'd be right in your assumption, James." Came Mrs. Crabtree's answer. "But the ancients argued against it. A witch of this nature is a complicated being. For death to be any sort of punishment... The one to be punished must first have been alive! But the witch was a demon... An immortal being which feared not destruction.. For she would simply return to the hellish fires from whence she came. But for a demon of her nature to be imprisoned for all eternity, never again able to cause death or despair... That was a fate far worse than death for the witch... And so in to 'The Hollow' she was cast."
"The Black knight, and his army however was another story. These were evil, mortal men. For them, death was the end... And by many, seen as a fitting punishment."
"The ancients argued that enough blood had been spilt, and the true way to punish this evil criminal was to hand him over to the king and let him deal with the knight. But the villagers wanted retribution... And so... One by one, in front of the old church of St. Luke's at the heart of our village, the dark servants of the Black knight were executed. Until at last, only the Knight himself remained!"
"The knight made his way to the chopping block, to have his head cut from his shoulders... Still wearing his full armour. But before he could be executed he shouted out a curse! He promised.. That one day, when the skeleton army was finally found, he would rise from the grave as a demonic spirit... Raise the army from the ground... And complete his ultimate goal in death. But.. Before that... He would make sure that every building of this village was destroyed, and every person who called this place home, was killed. Only when Holmes Chapel was a smouldering heap would he move on."
"The knight was then executed... But the curse he'd spat out before his death had the people of the village scared. Curses were not something to be laughed off in this world. They were very real. As a way of insurance, the people needed to do something that would halt the Black Knights curse if the skeleton army was ever discovered."
"They knew that the Black Knights ultimate goal, was London... The seat of power in England... And that was to the south. Since the black knight had promised to destroy Holmes Chapel first... They needed to create something which would bar his way south for as long as possible. And so.. The villagers turned to another ancient spirit.. But this time from the Croco valley. In fact, they sought out the spirit of the Croco itself.. And asked this ancient being to guard the bones of the Black knight, and to make its waters a poison to him, even as a spirit.. So that if the knight ever awoke, the river would remain an obstacle for him."
"The spirit of the Croco agreed... And the bones of the Black knight became cursed by the river. And so it has been for 700 years. The black knight held by the waters of the Croco... Just waiting for the moment when the bones of the skeleton soldiers are found... And he can have his revenge upon Holmes Chapel."
Silence settled over the room. The fire was still nothing more than an glow, but the rain outside seemed to have stopped. James was frozen in place, the last words of Mrs. Crabtree still sinking in. Mrs. Crabtree sat quietly, her expression one of anguish.. And fear.
"You can't be suggesting... What I think you're suggesting... Can you?" Said James at last, finally able to summon the strength to speak!
"...and just what wouldn't I be suggesting?" Asked Mrs. Crabtree.
"That... The black knight... His curse.... About returning from the dead to achieve his ultimate goal once the skeletons were found!... You can't be suggesting that you think this is going to happen?" Stuttered James in disbelief!
"Oh... I'm not suggesting it to you James." Answered Mrs. Crabtree... Her expression flat and cold. "I'm telling you... This IS going to happen!"
Silence fell over the room once more.
"But... It's just a story!... Isn't it?"
"It is a story... But a story based upon truth. The curse of those skeletons is real! So real that this village tried to forget it's own past." Said Mrs. Crabtree, and she paused, deep in her own thoughts for a second.
"But the past, always finds a way of breaking out on to the surface, no matter how deep it's buried. The Black knight himself shows that. Even with the story forgotten, and the spell stone hidden... Still that knight and his witch came. And now... They shall come again. For just as the curse of the skeleton army is real, so is that of the black knight. He will rise from his watery grave... And he will not stop until Holmes Chapel lies in ruins!.. And now.. After telling you the tale... I need you to keep your promise!"
James looked in to the eyes of the old woman and felt a shiver of fear run down his spine.
"What do you mean?" Asked James.
"I need you to help me." Came Mrs. Crabtree's answer. "I am old, and frail. Too old to be getting involved in such matters. But with your help, we can find a way to stop these things from happening. The skeletons have only just been found. I don't believe the knight will show himself until they're all discovered... So we have some time!"
"Time to do what, exactly?" Blurted James.
"To find a way of stopping the Black Knight of course! Have you not been listening?"
"I heard what you said." Said James. "I just don't know what you expect me to do. I'm just a kid. Ten minutes ago I hadn't even heard of the Holmes Chapel tales... And now you just expect me to drop everything and help you try and stop some cursed knight from destroying the village!"
Mrs. Crabtree sighed.
"I know all this must come as a shock." She started. "But you must believe me. Before I told you the tale, I had you promise me just one thing... That you would believe whatever it was I told you... You agreed and I told you the tale. But I also told you it, because I see in you the same love for this place as I have. It goes deeper than this place just being where you live... It's much more than that. And I know that you wouldn't let anything happen to this village, if there was a way to stop this destruction. You just have to trust me... Trust that the tale I told you is real! And keep your promise!..You must!"
James sat in deep thought. He couldn't take it all in. At the same time as having enjoyed the story, and having got a buzz from hearing such a tale about his boring home town... He just couldn't bring himself to believe that this story was real.
The voice inside his head, that had led him to the edge of the skeletons burial site, now screamed at him to throw his doubts aside, and believe the old woman. But the rational voice was getting louder now... And soon drowned out the other. At that moment a shaft of sunlight streamed in through the window behind him. The storm had passed... Now was his chance.
Mrs. Crabtree still sat with a longing in her face as James rose from the footstool next to the fire.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Crabtree." He began. "I just can't believe it!"
Mrs. Crabtree slumped back in to her chair, a true look of defeat upon her face.
"It's not that I don't want to believe you!" Continued James, all the while making his way towards the door. "It's just... It's too much to take in. It's just a story... A great story, but a story never the less."
Mrs. Crabtree didn't move or make a sound. Her eyes were now fixed upon the dying embers of the fire.
"Thank you for letting me dry off... And for the tea and cake... And for the story." And with that he turned the old handle of the door, and made a hasty retreat, making for the dirt lay by and his bike.
The world outside was bright and shiny with wetness after the storm. The smell of wet soil filled the air, and all the world seemed fresh and replenished.
James had barely reached the garden gate, when a voice called after him.
"James... Wait!" Came the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Crabtree. James turned to face her.
"I'm sorry." She announced. "I should never have placed such great pressure upon you after only hearing the story for the first time. I barely believed them the first time I heard the tales... So it was insensitive of me to expect you to simply except them as gospel truth straight away."
James said nothing, only smiled. He wanted the conversation to end and go home, and he didn't want to rouse an argument out of the old woman where she would defend her version of the truth.
"I know that it's a lot to take in!" She continued, "and it's going to take a while for all this information to settle in... But I would just ask one more thing of you."
With hesitancy, James nodded his head.
"You will leave here wanting to forget everything I've told you. Wanting to pretend that you heard no story... And that nothing's going to happen. But soon... Very soon, strange things will start to happen. Things so odd, and other worldly, that no matter what your rational brain may tell you, you will know the truth."
"And so, I ask of you... When these strange things start to happen... Don't try to deny them, except them for what they are! For sometimes... Just sometimes... To be irrational is the only way to be truly rational. When the time is right... Seek me out!" And with that, the old woman turned, and went back in to her cottage, closing the door behind her. James was pretty sure it was impossible to be irrationally rational... But wasn't going to hang around any longer to find out what Mrs. Crabtree had meant. With that thought, he raced through the gate, grabbed his wet bike from the ground, and began to ride as hard as he could, up and out of the valley. As he did so, the tale of the skeleton army swam through his brain, but by the time he'd reached the centre of the village, he was trying to empty his mind of the tale... Just as Mrs. Crabtree had said he would.
The real world of the village, with its cars and people shopping, quickly helped James start to forget what the old woman had told him, and allow him to believe that the tale, was just that.. A tale and nothing more. But then he remembered the old woman's final words to him.
James might have liked to think he was a rational individual... But he was smart enough to know not to be arrogant.. And that there was a difference between intelligence, and wisdom. What Mrs. Crabtree had said seemed crazy and impossible, but there was so much about the world James didn't understand. If there was any truth in what she'd said, then soon, 'strange things' would start to happen. If nothing at all happened, then James could forget what the old woman had said to him with a clear conscience. But if, as she said, odd events began to take place, then maybe... Just maybe, James would have to except there was more to the tale than he hoped. The thought of that conclusion alone gave him shudders.
For now, he would remain firmly planted upon the fence. But that position would very soon be tested.