others—perhaps hundreds—but you wouldn’t necessarily have noticed them.” I could hear him rattling tins and filling a kettle. His voice drifted back to me as if from the outer darkness of the netherworld.
“Indicators,” I repeated without enthusiasm. I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“Now then, there are two things which puzzle me about your story. I must ask you to remember very carefully. Quite a lot depends upon it, I’m afraid.” Nettleton returned to stand over me. “Think back to the cairn. Did you notice anyone nearby when you were there?” he asked, watching me intently. “Did anyone approach you?”
“No one.” I shrugged. “Why?”
“An animal, perhaps? A deer? Or a bird of some kind? A dog?”
I sat bolt upright. “Wait a minute! There was someone. I remember seeing this guy and he had some dogs—three of them, funny looking. I mean the man was funny looking, not the dogs. Well, the dogs were strange, too, now that I mention it. White with red ears, big and thin—they looked like oversize greyhounds or something. They actually blocked my way to the cairn, but I just stood my ground and they left.”
“When did you see him? Before or after Simon entered the cairn?”
“After,” I said. “No, wait . . .” I thought back. “Before, too. Yes, I saw him before, too—Simon and I both saw him. Simon said it was probably just a farmer, and we went on to the cairn. I saw him again when I went back to the cairn after Simon disappeared.”
Nettles clapped his hands and chortled with delight. The kettle shrieked from the sideboard, and the professor bustled over to it. I followed him. “Milk?” he asked.
“Please.” I watched him pour boiling water into a large, tea-stained pot. He also poured water into two unwashed mugs. A fresh pint of milk stood on the sideboard; he took it up and pushed the foil cap with his thumb. “Have I said something important?” I asked.
He swished the water around the mugs and then dumped it back into the kettle. “Yes,” he answered, splashing milk into first one mug and then the other. “Unequivocally.”
“Good. I mean, that’s good . . . right?”
“Oh, it’s very good. I was beginning to wonder if you were telling me the truth.” To my stricken look, he replied, “Oh, there is no doubt in my mind now. None at all. The presence of the guardian confirms it all.”
“Guardian?” I asked. “You didn’t mention anything about any guardian.”
“We will let the tea steep a moment. Bring the mugs.” He pulled a knitted tea cozy over the pot and carried it to the driftwood table, then nudged his chair closer to mine. “The guardian of the threshold,” the professor said simply. “It might have been a stag, a hawk, or a wild dog—the guardian can take many forms. His absence puzzled me. And another thing puzzles me as well: why was Simon allowed to cross the threshold and not you?”
“That puzzles me too. No end.”
“Was Simon perhaps more sensitive?”
“Sensitive Simon isn’t,” I said. “Not that sort at all. No way.”
Nettles shook his head and frowned. “Then this becomes very difficult.” He turned to the teapot and poured our mugs full. He handed a mug to me, and we drank in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Did he show any interest in the Otherworld before this business at the cairn?”
“None,” I said. “Celtic studies is my thing, not Simon’s.”
“But it was his suggestion to go and view the aurochs, was it not?”
“Yeah, but—I mean, he just wanted an adventure.”
The professor regarded me over the rim of his mug. “Did he indeed?”
“You know what I mean. Any excuse for a party, that was Simon.”
“Of course. But you would say he was the adventurous type?”
“Sure. He liked a bit of excitement.” I sipped some more tea and then remembered something else. “But you know, there was something weird that morning. Simon quoted poetry to me.”
“Yes? Go on,” Nettles
“Indicators,” I repeated without enthusiasm. I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“Now then, there are two things which puzzle me about your story. I must ask you to remember very carefully. Quite a lot depends upon it, I’m afraid.” Nettleton returned to stand over me. “Think back to the cairn. Did you notice anyone nearby when you were there?” he asked, watching me intently. “Did anyone approach you?”
“No one.” I shrugged. “Why?”
“An animal, perhaps? A deer? Or a bird of some kind? A dog?”
I sat bolt upright. “Wait a minute! There was someone. I remember seeing this guy and he had some dogs—three of them, funny looking. I mean the man was funny looking, not the dogs. Well, the dogs were strange, too, now that I mention it. White with red ears, big and thin—they looked like oversize greyhounds or something. They actually blocked my way to the cairn, but I just stood my ground and they left.”
“When did you see him? Before or after Simon entered the cairn?”
“After,” I said. “No, wait . . .” I thought back. “Before, too. Yes, I saw him before, too—Simon and I both saw him. Simon said it was probably just a farmer, and we went on to the cairn. I saw him again when I went back to the cairn after Simon disappeared.”
Nettles clapped his hands and chortled with delight. The kettle shrieked from the sideboard, and the professor bustled over to it. I followed him. “Milk?” he asked.
“Please.” I watched him pour boiling water into a large, tea-stained pot. He also poured water into two unwashed mugs. A fresh pint of milk stood on the sideboard; he took it up and pushed the foil cap with his thumb. “Have I said something important?” I asked.
He swished the water around the mugs and then dumped it back into the kettle. “Yes,” he answered, splashing milk into first one mug and then the other. “Unequivocally.”
“Good. I mean, that’s good . . . right?”
“Oh, it’s very good. I was beginning to wonder if you were telling me the truth.” To my stricken look, he replied, “Oh, there is no doubt in my mind now. None at all. The presence of the guardian confirms it all.”
“Guardian?” I asked. “You didn’t mention anything about any guardian.”
“We will let the tea steep a moment. Bring the mugs.” He pulled a knitted tea cozy over the pot and carried it to the driftwood table, then nudged his chair closer to mine. “The guardian of the threshold,” the professor said simply. “It might have been a stag, a hawk, or a wild dog—the guardian can take many forms. His absence puzzled me. And another thing puzzles me as well: why was Simon allowed to cross the threshold and not you?”
“That puzzles me too. No end.”
“Was Simon perhaps more sensitive?”
“Sensitive Simon isn’t,” I said. “Not that sort at all. No way.”
Nettles shook his head and frowned. “Then this becomes very difficult.” He turned to the teapot and poured our mugs full. He handed a mug to me, and we drank in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Did he show any interest in the Otherworld before this business at the cairn?”
“None,” I said. “Celtic studies is my thing, not Simon’s.”
“But it was his suggestion to go and view the aurochs, was it not?”
“Yeah, but—I mean, he just wanted an adventure.”
The professor regarded me over the rim of his mug. “Did he indeed?”
“You know what I mean. Any excuse for a party, that was Simon.”
“Of course. But you would say he was the adventurous type?”
“Sure. He liked a bit of excitement.” I sipped some more tea and then remembered something else. “But you know, there was something weird that morning. Simon quoted poetry to me.”
“Yes? Go on,” Nettles
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