A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes Page B
Authors: Julia Hughes
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Rhyllann’s sleeve. ‘I think we’ve found it. Look.’ Rhyllann wondered what he was looking for. Then words jumped out at him from the margins. What appeared to be an elaborate frame on each page in a mosaic design morphed into letters when Wren held a blank page over the bottom half of the frieze.
‘The key words. Hidden in plain sight.’
Taking the paper from him, Rhyllann did the same with the next page then the next – delighted with the medieval optional illusion.
‘If I can figure how to do my name – hey brawd – this’d make a great tattoo!’
Ignoring him Wren swept empty boxes from the nearest desk and started hunting through drawers for paper and pen.
‘Bring those copies over here. I’ll make out a list. Animals are classified in Latin. I’m certain she would have taken no chances.’ As he spoke Wren stooped over the desk jotting down notes, muttering.
‘But a Welsh translation won’t hurt.’ Raising his voice he added ‘If you hurry – run – you should just make the library. Get fish and chips on the way back.’
Feeling bemused, Rhyllann passed the copies over. Wren must have sensed his bewilderment. Still he scribbling, he explained his theory.
‘This is Joan’s last entry. She tells how King John entrusted her with his treasure. She wants it found. She’s dying though, alone and weak. She refers to her father’s great secret which she holds in trust, she probably hints at the code in an earlier letter. Maybe she even had someone at her nephew’s court who would be able to transcribe. But if I’m right – if these animals together with the keyword spell out where the treasure is …’ He paused waiting for Rhyllann to catch up.
Rhyllann thought about it. Finally he said ‘You’re right. It’s too easy. Too simple.’
Wren’s face hardened, drawing himself up to his full height he snapped. ‘Then do me a huge favour. Humour me.’
Rhyllann snatched the list from him, anything to shut him up. ‘Right. But this is the last time.’
Wren gave a soppy grin. ‘Thanks Annie. Don’t forget the fish and chips. Plenty of salt and vinegar.
Rhyllann banged out the office muttering through clenched teeth. ‘No wonder you got no friends. No social skills.'
Chapter Fourteen
Should have gone for MacDonald’s after all. Rhyllann mused. The chips were soggy, the fish dry. But his stomach craved comfort so he carried on shovelling food down. Wren sat opposite, eating absently with one hand, eyes devouring Latin terms. Rhyllann swallowed hard. Then swigged coke to wash down the manky chips, thinking back to the perfection of the roast chicken Mrs. Reade had served up.
Outloud he said ‘Poor auntie Dottie. I bet she’s having kittens.’ Stuffing fish into his mouth as he spoke.
Without glancing up Wren replied. ‘She was. I told her we were fine and not to worry.’
The fish turned even dryer in Rhyllann’s mouth. He clutched at the desk for support.
‘You what?’
‘I rang her. Just now. While you were out.’ Wren looked up, a softer expression in his eyes now they were so close to victory. ‘I felt really bad about – you know – slipping her a sleeper. I called her. Told her not to worry. Chill. She’s fine.’ He grinned. ‘Wanted to chat with me. I thought I’d never get off the phone.’
Swallowing hard, Rhyllann swept the half eaten warmed over meal into a pile, wrapping the paper round it tightly.
‘Annie! No! I haven’t finished!’
‘Shut up you idiot!’ Rhyllann glanced around the office. ‘Get your things together. Quickly.’
‘But I did 141 first. They can’t trace it. Anyway – I used your mobile.’ Wren nudged it across the desk.
Snatching it up, Rhyllann screamed at him. ‘They’re the police. Of course they can bloody track mobiles!’ God – the place stunk of fish and chips. ‘Get your stuff together. Hurry!’ Without waiting for a reaction, he bolted for the door hurling himself down the stairs, desperate to
‘The key words. Hidden in plain sight.’
Taking the paper from him, Rhyllann did the same with the next page then the next – delighted with the medieval optional illusion.
‘If I can figure how to do my name – hey brawd – this’d make a great tattoo!’
Ignoring him Wren swept empty boxes from the nearest desk and started hunting through drawers for paper and pen.
‘Bring those copies over here. I’ll make out a list. Animals are classified in Latin. I’m certain she would have taken no chances.’ As he spoke Wren stooped over the desk jotting down notes, muttering.
‘But a Welsh translation won’t hurt.’ Raising his voice he added ‘If you hurry – run – you should just make the library. Get fish and chips on the way back.’
Feeling bemused, Rhyllann passed the copies over. Wren must have sensed his bewilderment. Still he scribbling, he explained his theory.
‘This is Joan’s last entry. She tells how King John entrusted her with his treasure. She wants it found. She’s dying though, alone and weak. She refers to her father’s great secret which she holds in trust, she probably hints at the code in an earlier letter. Maybe she even had someone at her nephew’s court who would be able to transcribe. But if I’m right – if these animals together with the keyword spell out where the treasure is …’ He paused waiting for Rhyllann to catch up.
Rhyllann thought about it. Finally he said ‘You’re right. It’s too easy. Too simple.’
Wren’s face hardened, drawing himself up to his full height he snapped. ‘Then do me a huge favour. Humour me.’
Rhyllann snatched the list from him, anything to shut him up. ‘Right. But this is the last time.’
Wren gave a soppy grin. ‘Thanks Annie. Don’t forget the fish and chips. Plenty of salt and vinegar.
Rhyllann banged out the office muttering through clenched teeth. ‘No wonder you got no friends. No social skills.'
Chapter Fourteen
Should have gone for MacDonald’s after all. Rhyllann mused. The chips were soggy, the fish dry. But his stomach craved comfort so he carried on shovelling food down. Wren sat opposite, eating absently with one hand, eyes devouring Latin terms. Rhyllann swallowed hard. Then swigged coke to wash down the manky chips, thinking back to the perfection of the roast chicken Mrs. Reade had served up.
Outloud he said ‘Poor auntie Dottie. I bet she’s having kittens.’ Stuffing fish into his mouth as he spoke.
Without glancing up Wren replied. ‘She was. I told her we were fine and not to worry.’
The fish turned even dryer in Rhyllann’s mouth. He clutched at the desk for support.
‘You what?’
‘I rang her. Just now. While you were out.’ Wren looked up, a softer expression in his eyes now they were so close to victory. ‘I felt really bad about – you know – slipping her a sleeper. I called her. Told her not to worry. Chill. She’s fine.’ He grinned. ‘Wanted to chat with me. I thought I’d never get off the phone.’
Swallowing hard, Rhyllann swept the half eaten warmed over meal into a pile, wrapping the paper round it tightly.
‘Annie! No! I haven’t finished!’
‘Shut up you idiot!’ Rhyllann glanced around the office. ‘Get your things together. Quickly.’
‘But I did 141 first. They can’t trace it. Anyway – I used your mobile.’ Wren nudged it across the desk.
Snatching it up, Rhyllann screamed at him. ‘They’re the police. Of course they can bloody track mobiles!’ God – the place stunk of fish and chips. ‘Get your stuff together. Hurry!’ Without waiting for a reaction, he bolted for the door hurling himself down the stairs, desperate to
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