Haddon Hall

well you need to work through your Picassoesque Pink Period and get back to figurative realism cos Cousin It kind of nails it. and that mask doesnt fool anyone we all know its you, you know.

The Portrait.

Harry walked towards me his eyes full of suspicion, and started a tirade which at first sounded like a foreign language, but I realized was English, Old English, I remembered my Literature lessons at school and got the general gist that Harry was pretty peeved at my 'attire', especially my jeans, it suddendly clicked what was happening, and the angry retort I had building up evaporated, I realized that Harry was part of the Summer re-enactments Haddon Hall put on for the tourists, I had obviously spoiled his big entrance or was just not dressed correctly, he seemed to have the impression I was Lady Litton, all this happened in seconds, my brain didnt have time to adjust to an angry man shouting at me in Shakespearian, it seemed absurd, It was quite funny. I laughed, I complemented Harry on his dedication to getting the details perfect. This seemed to make things worse.
I stood stock still, shocked into silence I realized that this was not the Harry I had seen before, this man was at least 6 inches smaller, and small boned, sinewy and slight rather than the tall broad shouldered man I had seen in the Hall, he made me feel like a lumbering cart horse in comparison, he was Harry's smaller angrier twin.
His teeth were bad, and his skin was white, a pearl earing dangled in his left ear.
I felt the first prickling of fear. Something was seriously wrong, and my befuddled brain couldnt work it out.

He grabbed my arm, and I felt his breath on my neck, a mix of herbs and decay, for a young man he really was a bit whiffy I thought. I couldnt understand him, his accent was thick, it almost sounded New England or Devonshire but thicker, I tried to pull away but his grip was like a vice, I decided screaming for help was probably a good idea. I shouted, an answering voice, relief, another man ran up, similarly dressed but this one had a kinder face, "Master Halfwise", said 'Harry' escort My Lady within", she has run mad". "please, I spluttered half laughing half freaked out, "help me this chap is taking umbridge at my jeans, I know they are from Zara but really flares are in this season". I realized I was babbling rubbish, but when one is stuck in a space time paradox what the heck are you supposed to say?

(Lol Halfwise, a Zorro mask! OK.

I like your descriptions Figgy! Like the dust jarring off the mantel and a garden very easy to step into mentally. I almost used 'bees' myself earlier, but they got ommitted & its nice to see them make it back in. )


Three chums were sitting around a pub table. From the snatches of conversation one might think it was a meeting of modern Inklings, as they discussed and argued with increasing heat, the relative qualities of modern fantasy writing. After a few rounds and many authors slain, the three stood, stretched and prepared to walk back to the Inn where they were staying. Tabs paid, barkeeps tipped, they ambled out in satisfied mood and began the short hike to their lodging.

'We should get together more often' said one, the youngest.

'Agreed' said the oldest.

'Yes, it will be more easier to insult you, knowing more about you, you know' added the middle one.

They were walking along a narrow cobbled road thru the crowded old part of town, and presently came upon a clearing on the left, with a sign on two posts.

'Whats this then Odo' said the middle one.

'Its the ruins of an old Roman Fort, called 'Conumdrum'.

"No way?!" said the youngest, "Really? Lets explore a bit!" and he headed down the gravel path into the ruins.

'Probably fall into a pit or pond and die, poor bugger' said the middle one to Odo.

'Nothing like that here' replied Odo. "Just a bit of foundations, unfortunately". "The rest must be making up parts of the houses around".

"Well, lets keep an eye on our intrepid Orwell anyway, or he'll end up in one of those I wouldn't wonder" said the middle.

"Good point Petty" said Odo. "Let us take him under observation", and in the lamplight Odo made an exaggerated wink.

"Haha" chuckled Petty. "Excellent suggestion!"

And the two conspirators headed off into the ruins, but in a different direction then Orwell had taken.

Turembar I am trying to thread in your description of the silver torque into the story, and I will now try to add Tom to the mix, he he! its getting complicated. I want to try to tie in Tom and his job as antique detective..

The Portrait.

Master Halfwise bowed to 'Harry' and ushered me to the door I had just come from, we walked in silence, he kept passing me covert glances, a worried look on his face, I could tell he wanted to question me about my dress but probably etiquette forbade him. I walked as slowly as I could, I didnt know where we were going and I did not want to end up somewhere locked in and unable to escape. Another man stood by the door, he looked vaguely military as if he was a soldier or guard, he had a sword at his side, and a 'dont mess with me' expression, I didnt intend to mess with him and gave him a nervous smile which he did not respond to, "My Lady", he said as I passed, I could feel Harrys eyes boring into my back, the sun was hot on my head, my hat was gone and I turned round to look for it, the sky was an intense blue, the air felt almost too thick to breathe, it was like pure oxygen and made me lightheaded and dizzy, the buzzing of the bees and the perfume from the flowers was like a narcotic, I wanted to sleep just fall on the soft green grass and sleep, I felt my knees buckle and I fell to the ground, and slept where I fell.

Mrs Figg wrote:Turembar I am trying to thread in your description of the silver torque into the story, and I will now try to add Tom to the mix, he he! its getting complicated. I want to try to tie in Tom and his job as antique detective..

I forgot to mention it, but I spotted the Torque, with pleasure, right away in your story.

This is what I understand (or think I understand) so far... The story, so far covers three different time periods, ancient (around the time of Boudica's Revolt), Elizabethan and Modern. In each the characters can in some way repeated, but its fuzzy yet as to whether they are ancestors, or reincarnations, our own selves transported back, etc, or a mix of all...

But your and my stories are actually two different sets, so for instance my version of your character in modern is different from your version. It is I guess occurring not only in multiple times but two different planes. But it's a game to see where we can use parts of the two and attempt to weave small strands at first together, and maybe more later ? Is this fision of planes unatural and seeking mending ? (That's on top of the time distortion )

Btw, the new characters and three others not yet mentioned will all end up at the site of Haddon Hall, which I concieve of as having once been a Keltic habitation for a brief period.

I really like your idea of the Celtic habitation on the site of the House, the objects you described coming from the foundations I suppose. I imagine Harry is the Lord of the manor, past and present, who does away with the Lady of the House probably the Lady I saw in the cellar in your story, and me in my present and the past/time slip, phew!, its complicated, Tom I imagine to be the soldier in my story and the antique detective in yours. Halfwise could be in all stories and in all times, he could be a thread running through all like an observer. I am really enjoying this, its fun to weave it all together like a tapestry.

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(I really do like the illustrations you are adding, both specific and just atmospheric. Being a visual thinker, they have as much impact as words, and can inspire new ideas or details. I also liked the addition of the garden as the idea hadn't even occurred to me, and it has opened some new possibilities of setting. The time/plane distortion allows for many options. Btw, if you see a thread, that catches your fancy, feel free in take it up. For example in the modern time I have you stranded in your inoperative car at Haddon House at night. You could if you wish, have Figgy (The central one you inhabit...call her Figgy Prime... ) jump to that and go with it a while. When I come back to her, I can pick up where I left at the car, or at any point along the new narrative you are making.
I think Tom's recurring character, even in the modern time, is basically, the soldier. It is embedded in his nature so strongly that no matter what time he is in, he would be drawn to it. It is not rooted in agression, but comes from both an empathetic and very protective nature, which under the distorting influence of fear brings him to the conclusion that 'Arms' is the only way. He can put up a hard or agressive front, as needed, but is actually quite a 'Mush' inside. He likes all living things and delights in nature. He hates no group of people and finds their differences and histories interesting. He is drawn to the challenge of sorting out historical events and thrills in discovery.)

Orwell happened to glance back in time to see Petty and Odo, silloquetted against the lamp light, dodging off to left behind some walls. "Oh, those Buggers!" he thought. "But they can't fool me and I will be the one doing the surprising!" And crouching low, he trotted to head them off. It was a fairly clear night, with only occasional clouds. The moon was full and the chalky gravel on the paths shown almost white. So a Cat and Cat game began, as each tried to lay ambush for one another, and then getting bored, moved to another spot. They could hear each other once in a while among the maze of walls, a giggle... the crack of a stick... the crunch of gravel. Finally, lacking patience, they moved out again, and stumbled into each other unawares during the darkness of a cloud momentarily obscuring the moon.

"Have at you!" Orwell cried and he whacked Petty on the upper arm with a stick.

"Ow!" cried Petty. "Watch out Odo, he's armed! Rush him quick!" Petty shouted.

And in a laughing scrum of wrestling arms and whirling legs the three friends fell down together, just as the moon emerged from the cloud again. But rather then hit the ground leadenly with loud 'Ooofs' and grunts and scrapes the three passed into and completely thru the ground like it was water and were gone. Only a small cloud of rapidly settling silvery dust showed the spot where the three men had once been. They could not have known it, but this was exact place in the fort of old, where the occupying Legion, IX Hispana, had once stored it's Eagle and other Standards. To a Legion it was a quasi-religious place, said to house the Spirit of the Legion.

The three passed thru a blaze of blindling light and heard three unbelievably loud booms, which rattled their bones and stabbed their ears with pain, and then impacted the ground heavily. As they struggled to un-entangle themselves and get up, their shocked senses returned one at time. It was light out, full day... they were not alone but lurched to their feet in a crowd... their bodies felt unnaturally heavy and looking at themselves found themselves in armour and tunics and sandals. On the ground lay shields and spears and the noise about them increased slowly till it was nearly deafening. Shouts and cries and the sound of metal clashing metal, and metal on wood refurberated around them, punctuated by shrieks of pain and horror. The air was full of dust and their throats were parched and it was a effort to swallow.

Petty grabbed Odo's arm and hollered "What the bloody hell?" into Odo's bewildered face.

Orwells helmeted face suddenly thrust itself in shouting "WTF just happened?"

Petty looking around saw they were in a crowd of sweating shouting men similiarly equipped and all eye's were looking behind him. Turning around he saw they were just 20 meters behind a line of battle. It was shocking violent scene as barechested men with wild hair that shouted like demons were striking again and again with swords and thrusting spears at soldiers in front who recoiled and tried to ward off the blows with their rectangular shields. The three felt themselves being pushed back as the throng compressed and was forced backwards. The press became intolerably tight and panic caught like a spark on dry tinder. Men began to turn and shout 'Run!" and "Save yourselves!" and the Legion began to disintegrate.

Holding on to Odo's arm, Petty turned and went with the now retreating crowd. Orwell fell in behind them. The press soon began to let up and the fugitives spread out more. They were on some kind of open plain and all seemed to be heading towards a dark line of woods behind. Only to their left, could Petty see some Romans still in formation, a band of a few hundred perhaps surrounding some standards on poles. The band was also retreating towards the woods, but slowly. The wild men seemed to be drawn to this knot however and it was soon surrounded and slowed even more. But Petty was glad for it, for it gave them more breathing space to flee. Around them they could see the other fleeing soldiers now throwing away their arms and even stripping off their armor as they ran. They had to pick their way carefully anong the debris. The three had no arms, but now copied the others, tossing helmets and accouterments away. The Cuirass' they wore were more problematic though, as they were unfamilar with the buckles and straps. It might have been easier if they stopped a moment, but no one in that crowd would voluntarily stop for anything that day. Suddenly behind him Petty heard a crash and Orwell cry out "Stop!, Wait!" Stopping and turning he saw Orwell had tripped him self up trying to get his armor off. Despite their best efforts they were at the back of the fleeing crowd and he could see small bands of the wild men begining to trot in his direction.

''Orwell, what part of 'Sauve Le Peut!" don't you understand", cried out Petty with heated esasperation. But Orwell soon wiggled out of his Curaiss and was up and the three continued towards the wood at a run. Breathing heavily, muscles screaming the three finally reached the forest. Fortune was with them just a little, as no bands of closing wild men was in their immediate area. Though the wood now provided some cover, it added the whipping of branches and stabs of the stumps of branches to their misery. And their persuers so close there could be no rest. Their minds did not dwell on what had occurred, or anything else except to escape. At times they could hear cries at a distance in various directions, but this only spurred them more to keep going. Nevertheless their bodies could no longer be pushed beyond a walk as fast as they could go thru the undergrowth. Eventually all sense of direction was lost . The day was overcast and the sinking sun gave no clue. But after some hours they ceased hearing any cries and they thought they had drifted away from the direction of the main retreat. This encouraged them to finally take a rest, and it was just getting dark when the three entered a small clearing, and collasped on the ground. But as Orwell sat on the ground he gave out a muffled cry and twisting found he was sitting on someones foot. Jumping up and peering about he saw they stumbled upon the site of a skirmish, and a dozen or so bodies lay around in various heaps. They did not know it yet, but the three had made a full circle in the forest and were very close to the edge of the wood near where the battle occurred.

"Gentleman, I don't mean to alarm you but there's some dead people resting here too." said Orwell still looking around.

"Well if theys dead... then I don't mind sharing them our resting place." said Odo, still catching his breath and barely able to talk.

Wow Turembar I really love this part of the story, are the three friends from the present? It was a thrilling start.

The Portrait.

I woke up with a start and panicked. I didnt know where I was or what had happened. I was lying on a hard cold floor, and two men were leaning over me looking worried, "Its ok" one of them said, "she is awake now, she must have fainted in the heat". "are you alright?, said a woman, I looked around bleary eyed, and realized I was lying on the floor of the cafe in the converted barn. "what happened?, I said, why am I lying here?, They hauled me to my feet and steadied me as I wobbled to the nearest seat, someone gave me some water and pressed me to eat a sugary cake. The two men sat next to me and explained that I had wandered in like a sleep walker, mumbling and talking to invisible people, then I had just flopped down on the floor and started to sleep. "oh weirder and weirderer" I said, "what a day", the men were called Tom and Halfwise and they didnt seem to think I was a nutter, indeed they asked me a lot of questions, so I explained what had happened, expecting them to laugh and joke but they just looked at each other as if asking themselves whether to divulge information. It was odd. they asked me to explain all the details, everything I could remember, I told them about the 'smaller people and their strange accented Old English, when I mentioned the silver Torque they both sat up alert and it was obvious that they knew 'stuff', and I was determined to know what that was.
Tom explained he was a kind of 21st century Indiana Jones, an antique collector of sorts, he wasnt too keen to give me any details but I got the impression it was secret, something on the lines of Art and Antique detecting, Halfwise said he worked in the same branch, I assumed it was an Overseas Operation, as they were both American.
Tom seemed to know a great deal about Elizabethan England, I explained my dream had lasted for at least 10 minutes, it had happened so quickly, yet every detail was etched on my mind almost more vividly than the present. Tom explained that the reason I had thought the people I had seen were American was that today only the remote parts of South Carolina where language had not changed much sounded like Old English. Halfwise nodded, "If you go to Ocracoke Island" he said, you will hear accents not far removed from five hundred years ago when they came over on the Mayflower.
"so you believe me? ", I said, "I tell you a fantastical story about time travel, and you take it all so calmly, are you both going to have a good old laugh about me later?, I said a bit peeved.
"No we are not going to do any such thing", said Halfwise, "we believe you alright, it happened to us!".

I felt a sudden rush of comradeship as if we all had come through the difficult experience together. I felt a confusing mixture of excitement and anxiety, I mean its not every day you meet sword swinging Elizabethan gentlemen, I had the distinct impression however that 'Harry' with the bad teeth was no gentleman, it was at odds with the kinder Harry I had met earlier, but yet, I had only seen him for a few minutes, who knew?
Tom explained the history of the House, it had once been a Celtic settlement and then a Roman outpost, and after in the Middle Ages the Peveril family had built the first castle defences and the West wing, later in the Tudor period more had been added as had the chapel and garden.
Strangely the cafe was built on the exact spot of the Physic or Apothecaries Garden I had seen, which explained the riot of flowers and strange plants I had noticed.

Tom and halfwise explained that they too had been getting strange shifts in time and space whilst in and around the house, and as they had some serious kit with them they were taking readings and doing scientific experiments. We have a dig in the cellars and various thermo geological devices are rigged up to take a sweep of the site, they said. Several artifacts had been found and some were on a list to be found, some dating from pre Roman Britain and some from the Elizabethan period. "we have to be careful not to disturb each 'layer' of archeological evidence said Tom, a lot of digs in the nineteenth century were noted for destroying more evidence than they found. I remembered Schliemanns excavations of Troy were condemned for the fact he had dug through and destroyed most of the original layers of Troy, the methods had definately improved with time.

Mrs Figg wrote:Wow Turembar I really love this part of the story, are the three friends from the present? It was a thrilling start.

Lol, I didn't realize I'd left out any reference to time. But, yes they were in the present, or at least one of the presents...

Interesting that we could see you in the present while you inhabited the past. Can't wait to find out what happened to us that made us believers. Oh, and the torque originated (in idea) from The Portrait, as the woman has what looks like one on her wrist.

They were too exhausted to walk on and find another spot, so simply moved to a corner of the clearing, and dropping to the ground fell to troubled sleep. A few hours past, the clouds departed and a full moon rose. First one, and then another woke, feeling restless despite their fatigue and desperately thirsty.

"Water" said Orwell thickly.

"Well I haven't got any" said Petty.

"Maybe they do?" said Orwell nodding towards the bodies in the clearing.

"Dead men don't drink." said Odo.

But none of them savored the idea of rummaging thru dead men's belongings and considering the time, were doubtful on the nature of their victuals. So they sat and finally talked about what had happened.

"So where are we?" said Orwell to no one in particular.

"Well, I am not sure where we are" replied Petty, "but I am fairly sure 'when' we are, which is about 2000 years ago."

Orwell tried to whistle, but failing with parched mouth, simply said "Sh*t..."

Odo got up silently, and began to meander towards where the bodies lay strewn about.

"I am beginning to worry about Odo" Orwell said in a low voice. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's the shock I would guess" answered Petty. "We will have to keep an eye on him. Hopefully he will come out of it on his own."

"So what is our plan then?" asked Orwell, who automatically had given Petty the position of leader.

"Well, ultimately to get back... to our own time that is, though I've no idea how." answered Petty.

"That Roman fort would be good place to start." said Orwell.

"Yes." agreed Petty. "Though I am confused as to why we should end up on a battlefield. We don't even know if the Fort exsists in this time. Perhaps the Fort was built on the site of the Battlefield."

"No." said Odo from a distance, who had apparently heard what they were saying. And Petty and Orwell exchanged Glances. "The battle took place 100 miles northwest from the fort."

"How do you know which battle it was Odo?" asked Orwell sceptically.

"Because this is... or was... the Ninth Legion." replied Odo patiently.

"And how do you know that?" Orwell persisted.

"Because here is one of their standards." Odo said.

I like the way you have Orwell being annoying even 2000 years ago, thats spot on, he he!

Petty and Orwell walked over to where Odo was standing. The full moon illuminated the clearing brightly. At his feet was a pole with engraved disks mounted on it. At the top of the pole was a metal hand, palm forward, much like that described as the sign of Saruman in the Lord of the Rings. In the moonlite it was eerie. At the base of the hand they could see the inscription, 'Legio IX'.

"Well that settles that." said Petty.

"Settles what?" Orwell asked.

"Our direction. We will head Southeast to the Fort." replied Petty.

"Good." Orwell said in a tone of relief. "But which way is Southeast?"

"God, I don't know..." Petty said, looking now upwards at the stars. After a moment he shook his head and mumbled something about 'wishing he'd paid more attention'. Then he spoke clearer, "But seeing as were up, lets rummage a bit and see if we can find any food or water." He said it in a confident tone, but actually dreaded the distasteful task.

"Hmmm..." Odo suddenly said. "I always wondered what that looked like."

Turning to look at Odo, Petty and Orwell saw him standing over a body. Odo's head was tilted to the side and presently he added "That must have hurt.".

"Let's let Odo do the searching. He doesn't seem to mind." Orwell said hopefully. "Couldn't we look for a stream or something?"

"Get to it Orwell." Petty said sternly. "I don't like it any more then you do."

So, gingerly they began to search the bodies, which was made difficult by attempting to do so, without actually touching them. Most of the bodies were Roman, with a few of the Briton tribesmen mixed in. They found very little to eat and nothing to drink. The Romans had piled their packs at the march camp before the battle and out of the Britons small pouches only a few nuts and some roots were salvaged. Every water container they found was empty. Orwell then spotted a last body in the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Coming closer he saw it was actually two bodies, one laying atop another. The one on top was a large Briton, stripped to the waist and wearing long breaches and boots. his arms in death still half grappled his opponent below him. Orwell then saw what must have killed the man, for a knife was buried to it's hilt in the man's neck. Beneath him was a roman still in armour, but instead of a helmet the man wore some kind of animal skin over his head and shoulders. As he made out the Roman's face he saw it was drained pale white, with closed eyes, and still held his teeth clenched, in a pained or angry grimace. Then it opened it's eyes and stared directly at Orwell.

2000 years ago Turembar? Without a TARDIS?!
Besides all Scots know what happened tto the Ninth Legion and their General Nardini- nothing- they just stayed, their descendants run Scotlands Italian ice Cream Parlours.

The Portrait.

It was dusk, a warm sultry haze in the golden sunset, little midges played under the trees in the shafts of sunlight. Tom, Halfwise and I waited in the cafe until it emptied of the last tourists of the day. "well" said Tom, shall we start our work?", they had invited me along, saying that I was connected in some way, Tom had noted my resemblance to Lady Litton, and the fact that Harry had recognized me as being someone he knew, had prompted him to ask me whether I would stay behind and join them. Strangely I trusted both of them, it was as if I had known them both for years, we had an invisible connection. It was instinct. Tom explained that the area round the hill where the garden and cafe stood had once been the site of a terrible battle 2000 years ago, a Roman cohort having been attacked by a local tribe of celts. It was a metal detectors paradise said Halfwise, many coins and artifacts had been found around the hillside of the House.
I wanted to know about their experiences, if they too had seen into the past, or had felt a sun that had shone 500 years ago on their heads, felt its perfumed breeze on their faces?

Tom told me of their meeting with the Ninth Legion.

The Portrait.

Tom said one day he had been digging a small trench in the cellar when he heard the sound of a distant horn. He thought it strange that the sound should reach him so far underground, but carried on working. The horn continued to sound, each time appearing a little closer.
Suddenly a horse emerged straight through the stone wall of the cellar! Tom fell over in shock and as he sat on the floor, he was able to see clearly that the horse was being ridden by a dishevelled Roman soldier. He was slowly followed by several others, dressed in rough green tunics and plumed helmets, carrying short swords and spears. They all walked on in a dejected manner as they continued towards the end of the tunnel, apparently on their knees! As they reached the centre of the tunnel, however, they emerged into a recently excavated area and it became clear that they were walking on the old Roman floor buried 15 inches below the surface!
Tom scrambled frantically up the cellar steps to safety of the ground floor. "The really strange thing", said Tom, "was they could see me, they looked me straight in the eyes as they passed by, they looked too exhausted and dejected to actually stop, they seemed past caring. "Even the horse saw me, I was in its path and it avoided me, it gave me the heeby geebies I can tell you".

It was good to know I wasnt the only one seeing things. Tom showed me some of the objects they had already found, mostly coins and a few household objects. One coin took my attention, it had in faded roman letters written, ODO DUX LEGIONEM NONAM, translating badly I thought it read Odo Captain Ninth Legion, so there had been someone called Odo here 2000 years ago, I wondered who he was.

I sometimes wonder if I shouldn't ask Eldo to ban people posting while I'm busy with other things... I see I've got quite a lot of complaining to catch up on!

Busy with other things.... is this moonlighting on other forums?

As you know full well, Petty, I have never pretended to total fidelity in any area of my life...

And if you are referring to the current issues I'm having regards a certain Tomb, Petty Baggins, I swear I've got sucked in against my will... bloomin' Egyptologists --- think they know more than me because of their years and years of dedicated study... as if that idea ever washes with someone (me) who always relies on plain common sense, as you know!