hurried off. He would use the most fragrant honeyâwasnât there some Mount Hymettus left?âand the freshest, lightest vinegar all in a beautiful cup. There must be a beautiful cup somewhere. Should he pick a few flowers? Surely under such circumstances the house rules could be relaxed.
About to turn into the kitchen he halted. The back door was still ajar. Arno stepped over the threshold and stood by the shattered slab and great lump of iron. He looked at the lavender, flattened and snapped off where May had fallen. Seeing how close it must have been, he experienced a terrible quiet thrill of fear. He suddenly envisaged the world without her. Sans colour and warmth, without light, meaning, music⦠harmonyâ¦
âBut it didnât happen,â he said firmly. May would be extremely cross if she caught him thinking along such soggily pessimistic lines, for she always saw the best in everything. The silver lining, not the cloud. The rainbow, not the rain.
When Arno returned, having found no more elegant container, he bore a hefty mug of oxymel. May was sitting up and looking once more serenely infallible. She had shaken her rescue remedy to indigo and rubbed some on her wristsâscenting the room with a woody fragrance. He stepped forward with his offering and, as the mug was transferred, Mayâs fingers touched his own. Arnoâs freckled cheeks blushed and he hoped no one was looking.
âI was never in any real danger,â she was now assuring them all. âMy guardian angel was present as he always is. Who dâyou think placed Christopher so close behind?â
Christopher received several grateful smiles in silence. He was still feeling uneasy about the decision he had taken when on the roof. Once the shock of finding the crowbar had receded he was left with the problem of what to do with the thing. Should he replace it? If he did this the attacker would remain unaware that he was rumbled and, confidence unimpaired, might well soon try again. On the other hand if Christopher removed the crowbar the man would be on his guard and perhaps doubly dangerous. On balance Christopher had decided on the latter course of action. The bar was now wrapped in a blanket and hidden beneath his bed. Later, he planned to remove it to Calypsoâs byre.
Conversation had moved from Mayâs wellbeing to the lump of iron itself and the curious fact of how it came to be up there in the first place. Heather, the only person to have familiarised herself with the chronicles of the Manor House via a booklet in the kitchen drawer, said that it was first mentioned at the time of the Civil War when it was believed to be a large fragment of a Roundhead cannon ball. Later, due no doubt to increased scientific and astronomical knowledge, a meteor fragment was diagnosed. But, whatever its origin, it had been up there withstanding all that nature could throw at it, plus man-made bombardment in World War Two, without shifting an inch. How strange then, concluded Heather, that it should fall today.
A long silence followed this remark. May, angelically protected though she might be, still looked a bit perturbed. Trixie rolled her eyes behind everyoneâs back. Ken seemed rather excited by the mystery and Heather guessed he was looking forward to channelling Hilarionâs views on the matter. Tim, sensing the inexplicable, curled up a little more tightly.
The silence lengthened and then, one by one, people turned to the Master. The whole room seemed full of a grave and supplicatory expectancy. He would explain these discordant harmonics, their faces confidently declared. He would know. The Master smiled his oblique smile. He bent for a moment to stroke Timâs golden head, for the boy had started to tremble, and then he spoke.
âMany things agitate the vacuum energy-field. The nether stratum of dynamic force is far from stable. Subatomic particles are in constant motion. Never forgetâthere is
About to turn into the kitchen he halted. The back door was still ajar. Arno stepped over the threshold and stood by the shattered slab and great lump of iron. He looked at the lavender, flattened and snapped off where May had fallen. Seeing how close it must have been, he experienced a terrible quiet thrill of fear. He suddenly envisaged the world without her. Sans colour and warmth, without light, meaning, music⦠harmonyâ¦
âBut it didnât happen,â he said firmly. May would be extremely cross if she caught him thinking along such soggily pessimistic lines, for she always saw the best in everything. The silver lining, not the cloud. The rainbow, not the rain.
When Arno returned, having found no more elegant container, he bore a hefty mug of oxymel. May was sitting up and looking once more serenely infallible. She had shaken her rescue remedy to indigo and rubbed some on her wristsâscenting the room with a woody fragrance. He stepped forward with his offering and, as the mug was transferred, Mayâs fingers touched his own. Arnoâs freckled cheeks blushed and he hoped no one was looking.
âI was never in any real danger,â she was now assuring them all. âMy guardian angel was present as he always is. Who dâyou think placed Christopher so close behind?â
Christopher received several grateful smiles in silence. He was still feeling uneasy about the decision he had taken when on the roof. Once the shock of finding the crowbar had receded he was left with the problem of what to do with the thing. Should he replace it? If he did this the attacker would remain unaware that he was rumbled and, confidence unimpaired, might well soon try again. On the other hand if Christopher removed the crowbar the man would be on his guard and perhaps doubly dangerous. On balance Christopher had decided on the latter course of action. The bar was now wrapped in a blanket and hidden beneath his bed. Later, he planned to remove it to Calypsoâs byre.
Conversation had moved from Mayâs wellbeing to the lump of iron itself and the curious fact of how it came to be up there in the first place. Heather, the only person to have familiarised herself with the chronicles of the Manor House via a booklet in the kitchen drawer, said that it was first mentioned at the time of the Civil War when it was believed to be a large fragment of a Roundhead cannon ball. Later, due no doubt to increased scientific and astronomical knowledge, a meteor fragment was diagnosed. But, whatever its origin, it had been up there withstanding all that nature could throw at it, plus man-made bombardment in World War Two, without shifting an inch. How strange then, concluded Heather, that it should fall today.
A long silence followed this remark. May, angelically protected though she might be, still looked a bit perturbed. Trixie rolled her eyes behind everyoneâs back. Ken seemed rather excited by the mystery and Heather guessed he was looking forward to channelling Hilarionâs views on the matter. Tim, sensing the inexplicable, curled up a little more tightly.
The silence lengthened and then, one by one, people turned to the Master. The whole room seemed full of a grave and supplicatory expectancy. He would explain these discordant harmonics, their faces confidently declared. He would know. The Master smiled his oblique smile. He bent for a moment to stroke Timâs golden head, for the boy had started to tremble, and then he spoke.
âMany things agitate the vacuum energy-field. The nether stratum of dynamic force is far from stable. Subatomic particles are in constant motion. Never forgetâthere is
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