The Abbey Farm Curse. Ch. 19

The Abbey Farm Curse.

Chapter Nineteen.

'I knew you were up to something when I heard you talking about torches and duvets on the altar, I just didn't know what.' Rhys was looking directly at me, smiling to himself as he saw the light of understanding cross my face. 'I thought I'd go along with it and see what happened, although I must admit I didn't expect to find you actually shagging in a church. You are one sick son-of-a-bitch.'

'The church has been deconsecrated,' Willow told him softly, looking for something to mitigate our perceived crime.

'Oh, shut up, bitch. Or were you waiting for your turn with her?' He flicked a quick gesture at Angie.

'No,' she whispered, her face reddening.

I opened my mouth and spread my hands in supplication, trying to think of something to say, some way to explain, but he silenced me with one raised hand.

'Don't bother. There is no way you can talk your way out of this, neither you nor those two stupid little girls. But there is a way I might, just might, be persuaded to keep quiet.'

I half guessed what was coming.

'Tomorrow morning you will come into town with me and, in front of a lawyer, you will all sign a formal declaration in my favour, renouncing your interest in our mother's business and in any future will that she might make.' He looked at me. 'Then you will tell our mother that when everything is established and when I come out of the army, you want to go back to your old career and that I'd make a good replacement. That way I'll have a job for life and a pretty good inheritance at the end of it -- and you won't see a penny. You see, there isn't much call for artillery repair men in Civvy Street, but now I won't have to worry about getting a job.'

'Prove it!' Snapped Angie, rearing up at my deceitful brother.

Rhys laughed. 'Oh, but I can.' He raised his camera into view again. 'It's all on here. Didn't I just tell you that, weren't you listening? I've got everything on here, including some lovely shots of him licking your cunt. I can't wait to let everybody see them, including your father if you don't shut up.'

'Put your clothes on.' He pointed at my clothes through the window. 'You look stupid with that little dick of yours swinging about, and I don't want you to catch your death before you sign, now do I?'

I picked up my jeans to put them on, still trying to think of some escape route, but then, even as I stood with one leg raised over my jeans that old familiar fog began to close in and my hearing faded into white noise, and I knew that the abbey had chosen this most awkward of moments to inflict yet another time travel episode on us. But even as I thought it, I realised that maybe right now was just the right moment. Maybe we would be able to convince Rhys of our reasons if he saw the past for himself. But when the fog cleared my heart sank. Rhys hadn't come with me, in fact nobody had, I was on my own in the stone circle, sitting on the heap of my clothing before the unaltered Iron Age altar, gazing up at the beautiful naked girl standing over me.

'Come to me,' she said, holding out her hand to me.

I sat in silent shock. Partly because of the suddenness of the transition and partly because she could see me, interact with me even.

'Come to me,' she repeated, reaching down and taking my hand in hers, pulling me dazed and confused to my feet. Her hand was warm and alive. This was no ghost, no vision from long ago. Either I'd genuinely gone back to her time, or she'd made the journey to mine, along with all her surroundings. Of course, there was a third possibility, but I didn't even want to consider that. The third possibility was that my mind had given out, sending me spiralling into that comforting land of total insanity.

I looked at the girl more closely, trying to get a handle on what was happening. I recognised her. I don't mean I knew her, but I knew who she was. This was the daughter of the Celtic queen, the princess who was murdered by the general who had massacred the village. Yet here she was holding my hand in her own warm one, alive and looking so very, very attractive.

My cock began to stir, even in the ridiculous circumstances I found myself in I felt it twitch. I was attracted to her, and not just mildly attracted, I wanted to fuck her stupid. This was incredible and my brain rebelled against it, but it was true, I fancied the arse off of a long dead princess ten minutes after having shagged the arse off of a living, breathing and very lovely girl. Not only that, but I no longer cared that my Rhys was dangling the proverbial noose over my head and inviting me to put it around my neck. Regardless of all that, I wanted this ghost. We stood facing each other before the Celtic altar, the same one I had stood before so recently but now without its medieval stone cladding, and she walked forward into my arms. She felt wonderful and alive, all warm flesh that was so firm and yet so soft as my arms enfolded her. Her mouth sought and found mine, her tongue tasted and then parted my lips, exploring my mouth, and all the time I was conscious of her pubic fuzz pressing against my rigid cock. Within seconds we were on the ground, her legs parting to let me in.

We didn't speak, we didn't need to. Both of us knew what we wanted and both of us knew the other would give it. It was short and brutal coupling. I plunged myself at her, pushing my cock into her time and again, thrusting hard into her depths as she received me willingly. She wanted to be fucked hard, almost as if she wanted to be sexually punished for some crime, and I was only too glad to oblige. Before long her hands were scrabbling at my back, her nails gouging furrows into my flesh, the pain adding to my pleasure as I tried to drive her into the earth with my thrusts. I could feel my climax approaching as I could sense hers building, and I knew, just knew, that we would get there together. I felt the pressure build in my balls, felt them tighten, a spot of pure heat at the base of my cock. She was hammering at my back with her heels, encouraging me, driving me on, making me plunge into her ever harder and faster until finally, just as the muscles in my legs were shouting stop, I exploded into her, hearing her cry out and feeling her bucking and heaving beneath me from her own orgasm.

It is a common remark, a hackneyed and worthless explanation of the sensations brought on by orgasm, but this time the earth really did move for me, and I mean it in the literal sense. As I pushed my cock harder and deeper into her, spilling the last of my seed into her womb, the earth quite literally bucked beneath me and at the same time a gust of air carrying twigs and rubbish washed over us, accompanied by one almighty 'whump' as if something very heavy had hit the earth. I scrambled away, looking frantically around for the cause of this interruption and leaving my lover lying there with legs apart and her pussy running with my cum.

'Do not worry, it was not for you. We protect those who help us.'

The remarks sounded senseless, what wasn't for me, protect from what? Then I saw what had happened. The massive granite lintel that lay over two of the huge upright stones providing the backdrop to the altar had fallen to the earth, its enormous weight forcing it into the ground and showering us with debris. I had no idea how such a stone could have fallen, but it certainly frightened me. Fortunately it had fallen away, behind the uprights, or both of us would have been so much strawberry puree. Or had it been pushed that way to prevent us being hurt, was that her protection?

The princess climbed lightly to her feet and came across to me. 'Do not worry,' she repeated. 'It wouldn't hurt you. You have done all that was needed and we may all now find freedom. It was your reward, our way of balancing your account for your efforts on our behalf. Go now, and live your life in peace.'

She ran over to the fallen stone, sprang lightly on top of it and, smiling happily at me, performed a little naked dance on it before hopping down and disappearing into the darkness, leaving me once more in confusion. Go and live my life in peace, she had said. Fine chance of that with Rhys on the make. How would I ever find peace with those damning photographs in existence? I was still sitting and wondering about it some minutes later when the world once more closed in on me and I returned to my own, much more complicated, time. I looked around to find Angie sitting next to me, but of Willow or Rhys there was no sign.

I was puzzled, perhaps befuddled would be a better word. Why had that happened, and why had I been allowed to meet an Iron Age princess so intimately. How, my body asked, had I been able to perform in those circumstances, when I just had the most shattering sex, been blackmailed out of my inheritance and then hurled back around two thousand years?

'I've just been fucked in the Iron Age,' Angie announced calmly into my daze, as if it was an everyday occurrence.

'What?' I asked, still trying to get my head together as I reached again for my jeans.

'I've been into the past on my own, and that prince was there. But this time he could see me and he's just fucked me.'

This time she was sounding a little bewildered, looking down at herself and feeling her pussy. 'But...' She began again. 'How can that be? But I've definitely been fucked again, I'm soaking with cum and I've got grass in my crack.'

'Did anything happen?' I asked, thinking about the falling lintel and trying to ignore the thought that another man had just come inside her as well. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tugged my shoes on.

'Not really... But he did say that this was his thank you for what we'd done for them.' She reached for her own clothes. 'Where are the others?'

Angie must have been taken to a time before mine, because she would surely have noticed a stone of that size lying on the ground. Then Angie's hand suddenly flew to her mouth and she indicated frantically towards the east window.

There stood Willow, leaning on the wall as if to support herself, white faced and with her mouth opening and closing fish-like, but without a sound coming out. In mute horror she pointed out of the church towards Rhys' hiding place behind the window. We scrambled to our feet partially dressed and ran to her, wondering what on earth might be wrong.

'Rhys.' She whispered, pointing a pale white arm behind the church. 'The wall fell on him. I saw it. Didn't you see it?'

I ran around to the back of the church, stumbling over loose stones in the gloom. I stopped at the corner, unable to see properly and waited for my vision to adjust. Angie came up behind me, almost colliding with me in the darkness, and we stood together gazing about us. It was Angie who saw it first.

'Oh god, Gary. Over there,' she pointed to a pile of rubble behind the empty window.

I looked, unable to make anything out for a moment, and then my heart froze. Under the rubble lay Rhys, the top half of his body covered by broken stonework. My eyes shot upwards. The arch of the window was no more; it had fallen on Rhys as he stared through it into the church. The words of the princess suddenly came back to me.

'Do not worry, it was not for you. We protect those who help us.'

***************************

The weeks since that night have flown by. The police have finished with their enquiries, and Ma has begun the long painful process of coping with the death of her younger son. She had a vague notion that we knew more than we were letting on about, but she, like the police, had no real idea what had happened and she was astute enough to let it rest at that.

In fact we had immediately rung for the emergency services, but before they arrived we had dressed, removed the torches and duvet and prepared ourselves to swear that we only came out here in response to the sound of falling masonry. The arch over the window had been minutely examined for deliberate tampering, but nothing was found. But then, how could it be when any interference with the arch must have happened some fourteen centuries before it was built, and yes, I do know how contradictory that sounds. The camera is in my room, wiped of a set of very incriminating pictures that showed pretty much everything Angie and I had done together, and even included two or three shots of a naked Willow. Very pretty, but definitely not for public consumption.

We found out later that as Rhys and June returned from their date, ostensibly to enjoy coffee and a cuddle at her place, he had stopped by the roadside on the pretence that his brake lights didn't seem to be working. June had got out to check if they were on, and he had driven away with her bag, including her 'phone, still on her seat. By the time she had walked to an all-night service station to ring and warn us, we'd all gone over to the church. That was the call that I had so furiously rejected. But I cannot pretend that I wasn't glad that she didn't have to allow him to take her to bed, as had seemed likely at one time.

The inquest had returned a verdict of accidental death and the incident, as far as the authorities were concerned at least, was now closed. It was closed for us too, but we would have the memories of that night seared into our brains for the rest of our lives. After all, even though he was a scheming and obnoxious chauvinist, Rhys was still a member of my family and his death hit us all hard. Never in our wildest dreams would we have considered solving the problem he presented by his death, though clearly life was held far less important in the Iron Age and in the end the people of those times solved our problem their way. The abbey itself has been quiet from that day on as far as we were concerned, and none of us had suffered, or otherwise, from uncharacteristic urges or journeys into times other than our own, and so at least the curse appeared to have been lifted. It had been a heavy price to pay, but at least it had been successful.

Fortunately none of us seemed to be any the worse psychologically for our experiences and in a strange way we even felt bound closer together. Probably the most unexpected consequence was that when Shannon and Willow met at my brother's funeral they began a relationship that seemed destined to eclipse that of Willow's first love, Bernadette. Angie and I smiled knowingly to ourselves and wished them quiet orgasms. Willow is Shannon's first lesbian partner, but it seems to be working out all right and we all wish them luck.

June and I are now officially engaged and intend to marry as soon as my appointment as general manager is confirmed and I start to earn my own money once more. Ma gave us her blessing and the tears in her eyes showed just how much she meant it. Of course we got the usual exhortation to behave and 'restrain ourselves' until the wedding, but I think Ma must have known as she said it that there wasn't a hope in hell of us doing that, even though she had no real idea what we had already been up to.

The building work is now as near as nothing complete. Everything is finished outside and we have only to convert our former temporary kitchen and living room to their intended function and the house itself is complete as well. I must say that our spanking new downstairs kitchen is a dream and watching either Angie or June humming while they're working in it always puts a smile on my face.

June and I had the idea that we would go and make love in the church as a way of both expressing our appreciation to its spirits and by way of laying the ghosts of our own experiences to rest. But when we got there we found it impossible to do that so close to where Rhys lost his life, and so we regularly lay flowers on the top of the old altar. The depression that once housed the old pool has become our very own outdoor boudoir instead, something that I'm sure our ancestors, whichever side of the Romano/Celtic divide they are on, understand and appreciate.