luxuriously back into his seat.
David was back on the swing; this time with Ruth pushing, a glass of
orange juice in her hand.
"Thanks
for the barbecue," said Chris. "It's been great."
"My
pleasure." Tony teased the cigar out of his breast pocket.
"Three fresh faces is a treat for me. One day, you'll have to
let me show you around the area. We're not snowed under with
archaeological sites but we've got a few. You might get a few guests
wanting to know where they are. Just to the south of Manshead you've
got some Iron Age earthworks and a couple of standing stones. Trouble
is you're sitting on the main Neolithic temple."
Chris
looked around him in a brandy haze.
Tony
chuckled. "Not here. Where you live."
"Up
on Manshead," rumbled Mark. "Before the seafort was built
there was a Neolithic stone circle. Five thousand years old."
"They
probably used the standing stones in the fort's construction. You'll
probably come across the odd stone lintel, or footing a different
color to the rest."
"Any
time you want a look, just call in. It's a marvelous place.
Marvellous."
Tony
refilled the glasses.
"You
know," Chris continued, "there's actually a cellar under
the seafort. It's bloody impossible, really. At high tide the water
is higher than the cellar."
Tony
slipped the cigar out of its cellophane sleeve. "Remember, I
told you Manshead was a holy place. Do you know how holy?"
"A
Neolithic Vatican?"
"Close-damn
close. We're talking important. We're talking where the ancients got
close to their gods, where they would ask favors from the big cosmic
daddy of them all. But as I found out as a kid, Chris, if you want
something in this world"-he rubbed his fingers together as if
separating sticky banknotes-"it bloody well costs. Do you know
how the ancients bankrolled their gods?"
"Rituals?
Prayers? Hymns?"
Tony
lit the cigar at last and blew a huge cloud of blue smoke over
Chris's head. "Listen, have you ever made a sacrifice to
supernatural powers?"
"Have
I buggery. I've been an atheist since I was nine."
"Have
you ever chucked a few pennies into a wishing well?"
"Of
course. Everyone's done that at some time, but-"
"Ah,
that, Chris, is a sacrifice. Look... A wishingwell. What do you want?
A wish to come true. The price? A few coins in the water. Believe it
or not, the wishingwell is a direct descendant of the art of
sacrifice."
"Everyone
chucks a few pennies in a wishingwell at some time. It's just a fun
thing for kids."
"So
you throw in a stone, or maybe an old lollipop stick?"
"No,
like I said, pennies."
"Cash,
then. You pay cash for the wish. We're agreed, then. You give
something you value in return for something you value more."
"Put
it like that, then yes." Normally Chris would have wondered what
Gateman was driving at but the brandy mellowed him. "It's only a
pity the bloody wish doesn't come true. If it worked I'd be visiting
a wishingwell every day."
"Right
... You chuck a few pennies into the wishing well ... You want the
wish to come true. Now, Chris, consider this; would you go into a car
showroom and try and buy a new BMW with a handful of pennies?"
"
'Course I wouldn't. You wouldn't get the keyring for that."
"You
agree you need to pay a fair price for it?"
"Certainly."
"Maybe
you're not paying enough for the bloody wish, eh? Remember inflation.
Everyone's price goes up. Even the water sprite at the bottom of the
well."
"Put
like that, I suppose you're right. What's this got to do with
Manshead? Was there a wishingwell there or something?"
"Wishingwell
isn't far off the mark. It's the place where deals were done between
man and his gods. There they paid their price and got what they
wanted in return."
"I
take it they were paying more than a few pennies, then?"
"You're
not wrong, my friend," said Tony. "Because Manshead is the
place where they practiced their sacrifices."
"Virgins
on altar stones?"
"Whatever
the price demanded. A few bushels of corn or a chicken or
David was back on the swing; this time with Ruth pushing, a glass of
orange juice in her hand.
"Thanks
for the barbecue," said Chris. "It's been great."
"My
pleasure." Tony teased the cigar out of his breast pocket.
"Three fresh faces is a treat for me. One day, you'll have to
let me show you around the area. We're not snowed under with
archaeological sites but we've got a few. You might get a few guests
wanting to know where they are. Just to the south of Manshead you've
got some Iron Age earthworks and a couple of standing stones. Trouble
is you're sitting on the main Neolithic temple."
Chris
looked around him in a brandy haze.
Tony
chuckled. "Not here. Where you live."
"Up
on Manshead," rumbled Mark. "Before the seafort was built
there was a Neolithic stone circle. Five thousand years old."
"They
probably used the standing stones in the fort's construction. You'll
probably come across the odd stone lintel, or footing a different
color to the rest."
"Any
time you want a look, just call in. It's a marvelous place.
Marvellous."
Tony
refilled the glasses.
"You
know," Chris continued, "there's actually a cellar under
the seafort. It's bloody impossible, really. At high tide the water
is higher than the cellar."
Tony
slipped the cigar out of its cellophane sleeve. "Remember, I
told you Manshead was a holy place. Do you know how holy?"
"A
Neolithic Vatican?"
"Close-damn
close. We're talking important. We're talking where the ancients got
close to their gods, where they would ask favors from the big cosmic
daddy of them all. But as I found out as a kid, Chris, if you want
something in this world"-he rubbed his fingers together as if
separating sticky banknotes-"it bloody well costs. Do you know
how the ancients bankrolled their gods?"
"Rituals?
Prayers? Hymns?"
Tony
lit the cigar at last and blew a huge cloud of blue smoke over
Chris's head. "Listen, have you ever made a sacrifice to
supernatural powers?"
"Have
I buggery. I've been an atheist since I was nine."
"Have
you ever chucked a few pennies into a wishing well?"
"Of
course. Everyone's done that at some time, but-"
"Ah,
that, Chris, is a sacrifice. Look... A wishingwell. What do you want?
A wish to come true. The price? A few coins in the water. Believe it
or not, the wishingwell is a direct descendant of the art of
sacrifice."
"Everyone
chucks a few pennies in a wishingwell at some time. It's just a fun
thing for kids."
"So
you throw in a stone, or maybe an old lollipop stick?"
"No,
like I said, pennies."
"Cash,
then. You pay cash for the wish. We're agreed, then. You give
something you value in return for something you value more."
"Put
it like that, then yes." Normally Chris would have wondered what
Gateman was driving at but the brandy mellowed him. "It's only a
pity the bloody wish doesn't come true. If it worked I'd be visiting
a wishingwell every day."
"Right
... You chuck a few pennies into the wishing well ... You want the
wish to come true. Now, Chris, consider this; would you go into a car
showroom and try and buy a new BMW with a handful of pennies?"
"
'Course I wouldn't. You wouldn't get the keyring for that."
"You
agree you need to pay a fair price for it?"
"Certainly."
"Maybe
you're not paying enough for the bloody wish, eh? Remember inflation.
Everyone's price goes up. Even the water sprite at the bottom of the
well."
"Put
like that, I suppose you're right. What's this got to do with
Manshead? Was there a wishingwell there or something?"
"Wishingwell
isn't far off the mark. It's the place where deals were done between
man and his gods. There they paid their price and got what they
wanted in return."
"I
take it they were paying more than a few pennies, then?"
"You're
not wrong, my friend," said Tony. "Because Manshead is the
place where they practiced their sacrifices."
"Virgins
on altar stones?"
"Whatever
the price demanded. A few bushels of corn or a chicken or
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