Size: a a a a    Colour: a a a
THE LORD AND THE LIBRARIAN

by Lucy Appleby


At this time of year the surrounding mountains still carried snow but the mists had yet to clear and Lord Collden could not yet see the village in the valley below.

Today was the day of the first Manorial Court of the year, held as it was on the spring equinox. There would be many petty disputes for him to resolve as his people jostled in a Finding Year to make the most of their positions.

Yet as usual it was not all boundary disputes and breaches of contract that must be dealt with. There were men to be fined and assigned to public service for breaches of the peace and other offences. There were women to be whipped at the pillory. It was ever the same.

This court would be no different, except that this year of all years there was to be a ruling that touched his house.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, knowing who knocked.

The door opened to admit Megan, his housekeeper, a dour woman only a little younger than himself. She had come to his service on the death of her husband, a loyal servant if a little taciturn.

"Will you come to the court today?" he asked her.

"If I may my lord," she said.

"It is not too late to excuse your daughter. I could deal with it in private, as is my right, or leave her to you," he said without turning as he buttoned his best coat.

"She is not strictly of this house, as was her choice when she chose to remain with my sister. She walked her path of mischief, also her choice. Let her be judged as the other girl will be judged." Megan spoke softly but with iron.

"So be it," Lord Collden said with finality. "Oh Megan - those books - please return them to the library."

"Of course, my lord. Not that I see much point, as the Library is scarce worthy of the name," Megan sniffed, speaking freely as she dared.

"I have taken steps to acquire someone to address that particular matter," he replied. "An outsider."

"It is a Finding Year my lord, so why not?" If Megan sensed any further import to the possible arrival of an outsider, she made no comment.

"When she arrives you are to say nothing," Lord Collden said. The edge to his voice was hard. "And see that no one else speaks out of turn."

"As you wish my lord."

A she, is it? Megan smiled to herself.


Rowan stared disconsolately out of the window of her tenth floor flat, watching the remnants of the rain trickle down the windowpane, while below an endless twisting snake of London traffic belched exhaust fumes into the humid air. But beyond the traffic to the west, sitting astride a sandy ridge, lay Hampstead Heath. The oasis of green space beckoned invitingly. Rowan put on her coat and left the flat.

Thirty minutes later she was free of the sprawling metropolis. Following a path that skirted the ancient woodlands of the Heath, she entered a glade - a magical and secluded place surrounded by a bank of trees. The lush grass sparkled and the quiet was punctuated by birdsong and the staccato drumming of woodpeckers.

Rowan sat on a bench beneath the dappled shade of the trees and closed her eyes, reflecting on recent events. Her life was a mess. I must change it, she thought to herself.

"Ah, yes. Change," came a voice from close by. "Change is both absolute and necessary."

Rowan's eyes flew open and she stared in surprise at the old gentleman sitting on the other end of the bench. She had quite failed to notice him before.

"Sorry. Did I startle you? I was reading the lifestyles page." He waved a newspaper. "Just ignore me. I'm always talking to myself."

"No problem. I do it all the time," said Rowan. He was no threat to her safety. He just looked old and tired - save for his eyes, which were lively and intelligent - and such an unusual and startling colour. Rowan couldn't help but stare at them, for they were the eyes of an owl, deep-set and round, blazing with a tawny hue that was almost feral. Those eyes looked searchingly into her own.

The man nodded. "Well, I must be off now. Good day to you."

"Bye."

Rowan watched as he walked slowly away. He had left his newspaper behind. She moved to the end of the bench and was about to pick it up when a sudden wind caught it, frantically whirling the pages. She reached out, placing her hand on the open page. Her eye was drawn inexplicably to an advert. She read the text:

Librarian wanted to catalogue and classify a large private collection. Generous remuneration. Free accommodation provided in a splendid rural location.

The words danced before her eyes. Could she? Should she? Her future at the legal practice was uncertain, since the promotion she had been expecting had gone to the woman who was sleeping with the boss, the boss who also happened to be Rowan's boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Dirty rotten stinking cheating bastard of an ex-boyfriend. She couldn't remain there, so why not take this opportunity and apply for something radically different? Her background was in law, but her librarian skills could be applied to any subject discipline. Why stay in London, full of noise and crowds and congested roads, when she could escape to some countryside haven?

Rowan read the advert again. There was a telephone number at the bottom. Her mobile phone felt heavy in her coat pocket. She pulled it out and dialled the number, and then wavered; but she was unable to bottle out as the phone was answered almost immediately.

"Ah. Hello. My name is Rowan Greenway. I'm ringing about the librarian job. Is it still available?"

"What a lovely name," came the response. His voice was crisp and clear, with a faint trace of an accent that Rowan didn't recognize. "Yes, the position is still available. Perhaps you can give me some details about yourself - age, qualifications, and work experience to begin with."

"Of course," said Rowan. She provided him with a brief history of her academic and professional qualifications, and her employment since graduating from University twelve years previously. "I can email my CV to you," she added, "in case I've forgotten anything."

He laughed. "Email? I much prefer to read from real pieces of paper. Well Rowan, you sound exactly the type of person I'm looking for. Were I to offer you the job, when could you start?"

"I'm required to give one month's notice, but I'm due two weeks leave, so..."

"So you could start in two weeks if required. Very well Rowan, I will be in touch shortly."

He offered her the job by return of post. And that was that. Painless. Simple. Quick.


The next two weeks flew by. There was so much to do. Rowan went to bed exhausted every night. She found a good lettings agent who assured her he would rent out her furnished flat to someone responsible, and would visit monthly to ensure the place was being well looked after. Rowan filled ten black sacks with clothes and unwanted household clutter and took them to a charity shop. She cancelled her daily newspapers, bade a tearful farewell to her close friends and promised to stay in touch, and then stacked the car to capacity with three suitcases and an assortment of bags and boxes. She filled up the tank at the petrol station, bought a sandwich, a bag of boiled sweets and a bottle of water, then set off. Her big adventure had begun.

It was good to get out of London, away from the crowded streets and the constant whine and hum of traffic. And the further away she got, the more liberated she began to feel. She stopped at the services at Swindon for a cup of coffee and a break from driving, and idly scanned her route map. Her destination, the village of Collden, nestling in a remote valley on the English-Welsh border was so tiny it wasn't shown in her book of road maps; but her new employer had provided details of how to reach the village, and from there, continue to the nearby Collden Castle.

Even now, she was thrilled to be journeying to take up residence in a castle. That would sure look good on her CV. She wondered what her new employer would be like. Merlin Collden - an unusual name. He certainly sounded very pleasant on the phone, and he had been more than cordial in his correspondence. What's more, he must be very rich if he has a castle named after him, and can afford to pay someone to work on his private collection, thought Rowan. She finished her coffee and returned to the car to resume the last stage of her journey.

Gradually the towns thinned out and gave way to huge swathes of pasture and woods, with just the occasional farm or cluster of houses visible, the wood smoke drifting from their chimneystacks. The minor roads were quiet, and it was a pleasure to drive without being stuck in the congestion of London. It was after three in the afternoon when she saw the signpost: Collden - ½ mile. In great excitement, she turned left onto the narrow country road that wove its way around the curve of a hill. On rounding the bend she saw two things - a small village nestling in the valley below, and beyond it, perched high on the hill, wreathed in mist, stood the castle. She stopped the car for a moment, drinking in the view. It was perfect.

To reach the castle, she first had to go through Collden. She drove slowly down the winding hillside and approached the village. Having had enough of driving, Rowan parked the car in a natural lay-by at the side of the rough road, and set off to explore the village on foot. It was bigger than she had envisaged, with quaint houses and narrow cobbled streets. The people seemed friendly enough. Many of them nodded and smiled at her. Rowan was glad she was wearing casual dress, because the locals obviously didn't give a stuff about fashion. Most of them wore long flowing ethnic-styled clothing, and the farm workers were dressed in shabby brown tunics.

"Good afternoon to you," said a voice from behind her.

Rowan turned to see a large-bosomed, apple-cheeked woman of indeterminate years smiling at her. "Good afternoon to you too," she replied.

"Had a long journey?" Her cornflower blue eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

"Yes, but I'm here now. It's a lovely village."

"Aye. It is." The woman's bright eyes scrutinized Rowan. "It's not often that we get any visitors. Welcome to Collden."

"Thank you," smiled Rowan. "Tell me, are we still in England, or in Wales?"

"Now that is a question," laughed the woman. "I expect you are heading up to the castle?"

"Why yes I am. Is it so obvious?"

The woman's eyes narrowed momentarily, then the familiar smile wreathed her face once again. "Where else would you be heading? I don't think you're suited for working the fields or gutting the fish from the river. What time is his lordship expecting you, might I ask?"

"About 3pm. His lordship? Did you say his lordship?"

The woman nodded.

"Merlin Collden is a Lord?"

"Yes, and a very punctual one too. He doesn't like folk being late. You'd best get a move on, lass. Go past the main village street and then take the right fork up the hill. That will take you to the castle. My name's Beth. I expect I'll be seeing you again soon - Collden is a small place."

"Look forward to it," said Rowan. "Thanks for the welcome. I'm Rowan, by the way. Bye for now."

"Until our next meeting," said Beth. She watched intently as Rowan got back in her car and made her way to the castle. The smile left her face, and her blue eyes glinted with fury.

As the car drove on to the castle, there was another watching from the trees. This watcher's malice far surpassed any petty concerns that may have troubled Beth.

The woman was neither old nor young. She was almost beautiful but her face held a dark demeanour that would cause men to turn their heads hurriedly away, not that she allowed many to notice her. That was not Lizbet's style.

She watched as the car rounded the bend and considered that this Rowan would get far more than she dreamed of in this place, more even than the Collden lordling was planning. Neither would like what was about to befall them, but what was that to her? When worlds collided, it was inevitable that some of the pieces would be scattered.

"And so it begins," Lizbet scowled as she slunk back into the trees.


Lord Collden heard the car approaching. The whole valley must have heard it; there was only one other there and that had not moved from the castle stable in 30 years. There was only one person it could be, the new librarian. She was on time - that was a good start. But that didn't mean he had to be.

He was curious. As she stepped from the car, he studied her. Attractive, he thought, as they had said, with red hair, although cut rather too short for his liking. It was unfortunate that she considered trousers appropriate for their first meeting, but he would have to make allowances for now. And they did show off her figure to rather good advantage.

He turned to see Bronwyn, Megan's daughter, skulking on the landing. She blushed to the roots of her hair and scurried away when he saw her. He had acceded to Megan's request to have her live at the castle, it would help keep her out of trouble. Although he doubted that she would misbehave again for a while after the events of a few weeks before.

The front door rang and he looked down to see Megan move to answer it.

"Is this Lord Collden's home?" said a clear smooth feminine voice. "Of course it is - I mean, I am..."

"You are expected, Miss Greenway," Megan said, almost rudely, and ushered the woman in. "It is well that you were not late."

"No. I mean, I did leave plenty of time," Rowan said, trying to shrug off the woman's disconcerting manner.

From his place on the upper stairwell balcony that overlooked the main entrance hall Lord Collden smiled. Megan really was not used to outsiders, but then who was?

"His lordship has been delayed. Perhaps I can see you to your room so that you might...," Megan looked Rowan up and down before adding, "change into something more fitting."

Rowan pulled at her smart jacket and looked down puzzled.

"I am Megan. I keep the house here," Megan said as an after thought as if it were of no importance. "Please follow me."

Rowan took one last look around before she did so, looking up in his direction. He stepped back, lest she see him.


Lord Collden knew that Rowan might give Megan the slip at the first opportunity and try to find where she would be working. He knew he would. So before they met, he took one last look around his grandfather's library for anything that might be inconvenient for her to see.

There were some erotic books on the table and he considered putting them to one side. But they were harmless in themselves and if she were distracted by them, then so much the better. He opened one on top of the pile and quickly found an old picture that had been a favourite of his when he had been a boy stealing glimpses at this secret adult world. The picture showed a beautiful woman with a well-endowed posterior bending forward before a man with a whip. Lord Collden knew from experience and the angle of the man's body that the man knew how to lay on and there was something about the look in the woman's eyes that said she knew it too. He decided to leave the book open on the table and walk the upper tier for anything that would seem too fantastic for his new librarian.

Then, as he had half-expected, the door opened and Rowan walked in furtively. She did not see him but began to tour the room slowly with a look of wonder in her eyes as she surveyed the treasures.

He watched her for a moment until her eyes fell upon the open book on the table. She paused to look around, a demure gesture he thought, pleased. Then she pulled the book nearer and went to turn the page.

"A fine edition, part of the Libris Eroticum," he said, announcing his presence.

She jumped, blushing.

"Oh, I am sorry. I didn't see you there. I am the new librarian, Rowan Greenway."

"Pleased to meet you, Rowan." Lord Collden offered her a tight bow. "I am Merlin Collden."

She waited while he walked slowly down the spiral stairs from the upper tier as if making a grand entrance.

"How do I...? I mean, should I...?" She had never met a lord before.

"It is usual to address me as my lord and to refer to me as his lordship or Lord Collden. But we have no need to stand on ceremony here, Rowan. You may call me sir if it is easier."

"Wouldn't Megan be shocked if I was to be so familiar?" she asked with a smile, not really sure if he were joking or not.

"Undoubtedly," he smiled.

"My lord." She returned an ostentatious bow.

He suspected she was mocking him. He might have said more but he caught sight of a book about Richard IV and moved to turn it over lest she ask too many awkward questions too soon.

"You have a lot of books here," she said walking to one on a stand by itself. "My God - this is the Principia. Leather bound, it looks ancient."

"A first edition, yes."

Her jaw hung open.

"But this is priceless."

"Is it? Is that because it is inscribed by Isaac Newton himself?" he asked, wondering if this tome were out of place, although he knew it was a part of her history as well as his.

She looked at him with disbelief and then turned her attention to another line of books.

"More scientific works," he said. "I believe there are first editions of the Origin of Species and the Descent of Man, there. Over here is fiction. Dickens, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Orleggon... all the classics."

"Orleggon? I don't know that writer."

He paused and considered. "No matter," he said dismissively, realising his gaff.

She made a slow turn of the library as if to look at it again.

"By the way Rowan, your keys," he said, holding out his hand. Then when she looked at him blankly he added, "for your car."

She hesitated and stared back at him blankly. This was irritating. He was not used to anyone questioning his orders.

"Your car keys. We need to get your luggage and put your car somewhere safe," he persisted.

"Of course," she said, shaking herself and handing them over.

"Don't let all of this daunt you. Take your time, get to know the place first."

"What is there to do here? Any restaurants or pubs?"

His eyes narrowed and then he remembered he had to make allowances. "There is the inn. It will serve you tea or coffee. Maybe even a beer on the quiet. Stay away from the tavern. It's not a place for women, except in the company of a man on Saturday night."

"A beer on the quiet? What kind of pub is that?"

"A very respectable one," he said with barely concealed anger in his voice.

"I see," she said, taken aback. "What about a church? I didn't see one as I drove in."

"There is a place of worship further up the valley. It's quite a walk. Are you religious?"

"Not really."

He nodded with satisfaction at this. That is so much to the better, he thought.

"One more thing, Rowan. The upper floors of the castle are mostly for junior staff and that which is not is unsafe. The cellars are mostly for storage. Please stay out of these areas, especially the old dungeon."

"A dungeon - how exciting. Is that unsafe as well?"

"Very unsafe, in a manner of speaking. I hope it is a long time before you find out why," he said, not being able to resist.

After he had gone, she checked the library shelves to see for herself if they contained the treasures he had mentioned. The books he had mentioned were indeed all he had said and more besides. There were even books that appeared to be far older, medieval even. She opened a chest and found numerous scrolls. Most of these were maps but some were old deeds and charters. Then she chanced across one that seemed older than the rest, although unlike them, it held strange poetic writing. As she gingerly balanced it between her thumbs and unrolled it, she saw it was in a language she did not know.

"Welsh, maybe," she wondered aloud.

She was about to replace it when a piece of paper slipped out of its folds and fell to the floor. The words on it appeared to be English, a translation perhaps? It ran:

An outsider from the world beyond shall from the future spring,
She will journey through the hidden road and breed a line of kings
First born of the royal sons, shall stand a hidden mage
By his will he shall forsake the Order to make change


But beneath it was another version of the same with a question mark as if it were an alternative translation of the first.

An outsider from the world beyond shall from the future spring,
She will journey through the hidden road and breed a line of kings
First born of the royal sons shall stand a magi misted
By his will he shall forsake the Order to make twisted


There was more:

Beware the dark dread queen whose wrath will blight the land
Her armies of the dead ne'er vanquished by man's mortal hand
Amongst sacred stone and pool, a hidden key is bound
And what has been for eons lost shall in summertime be found


Rowan shook her head. It was some kind of ancient prophecy from the days that people believed such things. She shrugged and rolled the papers up and replaced them. Then she returned to her room.


Later at a meeting with the village reeve, Lord Collden put his enforcer in the picture. "You are to turn a blind eye to any occasional beer that our guest may ask for at the inn, but she should be turned away at the tavern," he instructed.

"Of course my lord," Pestrel said, nodding. "And her car?"

"Can you remember how to drive?"

Pestrel nodded uncertainly.

"Put it somewhere safe and render it immobile to make sure," Lord Collden ordered. "And Pestrel, make sure that no one talks out of turn. Remember this is a Finding Year and the valley road goes both ways."

"Yes my lord," the old reeve nodded.



© Lucy Appleby
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.