Hamelton (Dr. Paul) Read online

  I looked over to the men at the bar. The barkeep laughed to break the tension and said, "In a way, he told you what we all wanted to say. But not that way." He turned to dry some glasses with a towel knowing someone else would take it from there.

  George, more sober than earlier, said to the barkeep "Beers for me and the yanks" He put an arm around each of us like a dad as he walked us to a table in a secluded corner of the pub. "What old Joffy said was mostly the alcohol talking. I think I'd best straighten this out, now that you know." Barkeep brought us our drinks and George took a big swig before he started. "The truth of the matter is no one knows what happened. William Hamelton's parents died when he was about twenty. It was his responsibility to continue his ancestors work advising royalty on the works of God." He sipped his beer as Handy and I sat on the edges of our seats. "He took up teaching an odd bunch of blokes religion. There was no evidence of witchcraft, but some still say there was. One day William and some of his students left without saying a word. The mansion reverted to the town's people, thanks to an old will of his grandfathers. That's it. Over time and bar talk, the tale has grown, perhaps in the back of our minds we wonder, some too much. But the truth is, the town selling the mansion to an earl long ago saved the town from financial ruin."

  "What about the rogues every eighty years thing?" Asked Handy.

  "Oh that, I don't think it's related. Three times since then the town has been plagued by a band of vagrant thieves. Each time they camped on Hamelton property. No one can live that long, and they aren"t immortal, one was caught, killed and buried. Three separate incidents three different bands," George finished up his beer and story.

  We left soon after that. Back in my room, I tried to go over all that had happened this day. I knew I would not be able to sleep, but again, I was wrong as the alcohol overwhelmed me and I faded out again on top of the covers.

  III

  I woke up early on my second day in England. I gave a quick look at the weapons hanging in my room. I saw what I was looking for. Something that may have belonged to some knight from the old days or William Hamelton himself. It was an oversized dagger. It wasn't made of any type of precious metal, but it was very interesting and well crafted. It had a hand carved metal handle and "W R H" carved into the blade along with his family crest, which I recognized from seeing it around town. It was obviously a dagger but it seemed to be half the size of a sword. Both edges of the blade were sharpened but pitted with age. I wanted to take it down and look at the other side but it was pinned to the wall and I did not want to tamper with it. I thought about the old cloaked man from the previous night, and George's account of the tale of William. My curiosity was growing faster than I could believe.

  I dressed myself in clean clothes and headed for the kitchen. Maggie, apparently also an early riser, was cutting vegetables for some future meal when I arrived in the kitchen. I greeted her and asked if she could make coffee. We shared small talk for an unbearable time. I wanted so badly to talk about William but wanted to ease into the subject. Finally, when she asked where we went last night, I had my opening.

  "We found ourselves in a small pub called the Knight's Edge," I started, "it's on the east side of ... I'm sorry of course you know where it is."

  "The Knight's Edge can be a friendly place. They never brought electricity into that place. The only establishment in town they still haven't. It is part of the charm and no one wants to change it. Of course electricity was put into this house before I was born. I did however watch some of the old stores, trying to stay on fuel for the tourists, one by one give in. Some of them..."

  I interrupted her. "Some of the men told me a few stories about the Hamelton mansion and William."

  For the first time she was momentarily silent and still. About ten seconds of deadly silence past as she decided how to handle this forbidden subject. She suddenly, but smoothly sat across the table from me. "They shouldn't be trying to upset you, the mansion is not haunted. I live down that hall and feel safe as can be," she said, as she leaned on her folded arms that she had placed boldly in front of her on the table. I could tell I had her complete attention and concern.

  "I'm not scared of haunting, I'm more concerned of the mystery. What was William trying to do? Where ... and why did he go?" I inquired.

  "Sounds like you were lucky to get a somewhat factual story. Who told you about William?" She asked.

  I realized if I wanted a straight answer from her, I should be straight with her. I told her about the hooded man and George as she poured the coffee. She replied, "Well, you know the most of it. From what I know, my family was in Hamelton at the time you know, William must have had reasons for what he did, and he seemed to be a reasonable and intelligent man. There are stories of how brilliant he was as a youth. In a letter I once saw, I read how one of his tutors wrote the king to say that William was going to be perhaps the best advisor ever to come. It was a savage time in our history, anything could have happened."

  "If it can't hurt, and I do enjoy investigative research, could I look at some the old letters from the time? Who knows, I may find something new."

  "You aren't scared of the myth and neither are your friends?" She was more confirming than asking.

  I shook my head. "It will give me something to do."

  "Up in the library, on the left side as you enter upstairs is said to be what is left of William's personal library including a few copies of a book he wrote. They are on the top shelf in an indentation. If you are interested, that is the best place to start looking. I have never opened them. They have been looked over for clues before. Nothing but a waste of time I'm told. Would you like some breakfast?"

  I figured I had received all the information she was willing to give at the time and she was now intent to change the subject. I ate the food she made as she chatted on about things to do in the town of Hamelton. I, however, was forcing the food down so I could get to the library.

  Standing in the library, looking around I realized Maggie's directions did not make much sense. I did not want to ask again. I know she said top shelf on the top floor. I looked along the books at the top. In one of the studying cubbyholes I found some old books with the titles barely readable. Four books looked to be identical, "Quest of Paradise" I read out loud. They were in bad shape and fragile. The illegible words were hand written. I took all four books down and put them side by side under a lamp. I figured what I could not read in one book, I could read in another. The first page was signed by William R. Hamelton in all four books, but only one book seemed to be in the same hand writing as the signature. The others, plainly approved hand written copies. I decided I would try to read mostly out of the book William had written with his own hand.

  I was delighted to find out that William's middle name started with an "R" because that increased the possibility that the dagger with the carved initials "W R H" once indeed belonged to William.

  Old English is not my strong point; I did not understand the terms and meanings of many of the words. Some whole pages seemed to be gibberish. In order not to leave out all those, like myself, who are not fluent in old English, I will simply translate to you what I suppose was being said. Besides I doubt I could repeat the words correctly after all this time.

  The first chapter seemed to be a collection of concepts from his library of books he had read. He seemed to have isolated points about the Garden of Eden. He had several reported incidents of near death experiences that he quoted from. Falling off a horse, almost drowning in a lake and a bad illness. In the second chapter, he was rearranging the facts, either brilliantly or wildly. It was out of my realm of knowledge. He seemed to be claiming that the results of his study confirmed the existence of a land that held an alternate world of perfection.

  He reflected to his youth when his father was teaching him how to joust. Around the grounds gold rings were hung from posts and he had to ride a pony around with a long skinny stick and pluck the rings off. He was not allowed to stop until he ha
d them all. The lesson to be learned was that when there was a mission to be done that he should stop at nothing to do it.

  At first this section seemed out of place, and then I slowly lifted my eyes to the stained glass window from my vantage point. In the center of it was the gold circle intermingled with the fruit tree, an apple tree. Like a light bulb turning on in my head I understood. The Garden of Eden is the mission and he had the gold ring around it indicating he would not stop until he found it. My guess was that William commissioned the artwork. That he very well could have sat in my very spot as he contemplated and wrote in the book before me.

  Between trying to read from four books, translating the meaning of "thee's" and "thou's", and trying to comprehend what he was teaching, I had enough of William R. Hamelton for the time. I returned to the kitchen to sit with my friends as they ate.

  "It's about time you crawled out of bed," Jeff teased.

  "No, I've been walking around for hours." I decided now was not the time to spill how my investigation about William was going. "How was the cozy fire you and Cindy had last night?" I returned the teasing.

  Cindy wanting to change the subject said, "What are we planning to do today?"

  "A good question." I pretended to be thoughtful; however, I already knew what sounded good to me. "How about ... horseback riding in the morning ... and check out the town in the afternoon?" The idea went over well. After breakfast we went to where we had seen the stables down a little hill from the garage.

  There was a caretaker at the stables. He was strong, tall, and quiet. I never seemed to hear his name; we later referred to him as "The Wrangler," although the cowboy name didn't fit him at all. He seemed pleased that we were going riding. The cars must get more use than the horses; his job must seem rather useless if not for whatever is needed for the livestock care. He went inside to prepare the animals as the four of us sat on some hay telling jokes.

  The wrangler reappeared leading a beautiful black mare. "This one is "shaker," she's well behaved and not easily scared." He handed the reins to Cindy who took the horse and started to adjust the saddle like a pro. Wrangler turned and walked back into the barn.

  Jeff loudly said, "Where is the horn?"

  Although he sounded stupid, he made me painfully aware that these animals were English style, not western as I've ridden before. After all the animals had been designated, we three boys looked in fear at them. Wrangler emerged with a horse of his own and proceeded to give a lesson on riding. He must have known we needed the help. He rode with us for about half an hour after we got on the trail, then excused himself. For the curious, my horse's name was "Tag" and he was “nimble and lively”.

  We rode east, away from town. The landscape was beautiful, green rolling hills that seemed to extend forever. About four foot high stone cattle fences crossed the land. Toward the north were high mountains. On our way back and near the house we found a crystal clear stream that turned into a pond with an old oak tree sitting at the edge of it. We stopped and relaxed by it for some time. Handy told about the incident at the Knight's Edge the previous night. I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to add to the rumors until I knew more facts. Handy told the story well. He made the hooded man sound ludicrous and made George's account sound like history. After finding a nearby trail, we continued back to the barn. As we passed the house, Hanna was standing outside as if waiting for us.

  "If you wanted a good ride, why didn't you ask me?" She said to Handy.

  Handy replied, "If I knew it was that easy, I would have."

  "If you are looking for heaps of fun tomorrow, I'd be happy to give you yanks a real tour."

  “No time better then now?”

  “Work today for me, play tomorrow.”

  "See you at eight then?"

  "Eight it is."

  As we were heading from the house back to the barn, Cindy complained how she didn't like Hanna. Jeff grumbled that his legs hurt and he didn't want to ride in the morning. I agreed with Jeff. "...and besides I don't want to go on your date with you and Hanna."

  Handy pleaded, "I can't go by myself. She would think it's a date. Anyway she said 'you yanks.' That's plural."

  I said, "I did not say a word. You asked her."

  "Pleeeeease!" Handy pleaded.

  "You'll owe me one after this," I broke down.

  After a shower, we all met for a lunch time snack. Maggie was talking about everything she could think of, as usual. However, she gave no acknowledgment of our morning conversation.

  We took the van to town. We went shopping in several different stores. Knowing we had a long stay ahead of us, we took our time and saw only a very little part of the town. Cindy bought a small crystal statue. Handy ordered a plaque of his coat of arms from a historian, who I think was pulling his leg. Jeff bought candies. We ate in a nice restaurant and headed home.

  Everyone retired early for the night except for me, I sneaked out to the library, and I continued my reading. I noticed Maggie must have cleaned the area I was using and brought in a better desk light.

  I read on how William started experimenting, trying to mentally advance himself to, "The other world where peace reigns forever." He wrote on about his philosophy of life. His meditation spot was in the "Hidden Six." He had told his ideas to a local Friar who was fascinated by William's concepts. The Friar moved into the mansion and helped develop the experiments. After a disappointing year of trying, they appeared to have had some success. I did not understand exactly what happened, something to do with the “absence of servants”. The Friar, delighted with successes, went to visit relatives. During his visits he decided to officially take leave from the Church of England and pursue his studies with William full time. He also preached to a small group who became his followers and eventually William's followers. The group came to live and learn at the mansion. William described the Friar as "...a rough man, but loyal in the heart to the death."

  Now it was rather late at night, so I cleaned up and headed to my room. I changed into pajamas and climbed into my bed. After staring at the ceiling for some time pondering the information I was learning, sleep came easy and I slept well.

  IV

  The sun was bright and the room was filled with refreshing warmth when I opened my eyes. The morning light through the glass window made interesting shadows around the room. The small amount of dust in the air accentuated the entering rays of light. I lay there for a few moments enjoying the comfort of my bed. I took my time slowly getting up, after all this was my vacation. As I put my legs over the side of the bed, I felt the pain of my inner legs. I remembered the horseback riding from the day before. Then I remembered I had to do it again today. I wanted to just not go, but I had agreed to be the third member on a date.

  I decided to take a good look outside my window. My eyes hurt for a moment as I adjusted to the bright light. I could see the fountain with fish statues spitting water into the air. A man on a rider lawnmower was cutting the grass in the front yard.

  When I arrived downstairs, Maggie had made some blueberry muffins for breakfast. Handy was already waiting for me.

  "What time are we going out for that ride?" I asked, knowing the ride was at eight but not knowing what time it was then.

  "In about a half an hour, at eight. I'm ready how about you?" My legs hurt. I would've rather just sit around all day, and I also wanted to study up more on William. However, if he wanted to pretend he was not in pain, I would too. "I'm ready as soon as I grab a quick bite."

  Maggie looked firmly at us. "My food is not referred to as a quick bite! You both digest your food before you go out riding. I hear Hanna is taking up with you fellas, she a fine rider you know. I rode a lot when I was a kid, and rather well if I may say so..." After hearing about how she won a jumping competition in her youth, Handy and I excused ourselves from the table.

  As we walked out to the stables, we both tried to walk as if our legs were not in severe pain. I feel I hid the limp better than he did. Handy asked if I t
hought he had a chance with Hanna. My true feelings were that she was not the right type for him and besides he would be leaving the country soon. Handy was not the one night stand type, so why make emotional attachments? That is what I wanted to say, and should have. But thinking of the occasional dates he did get, and the insincerity of those who dated him for his father's wealth, I thought what could it hurt and maybe it will work out for them. Now that I think back that was a major miscalculation on my part, perhaps everything may have gone differently had I said what I wanted to then. This episode seemed minor at the time but looking back that minute was the major crossroad in Handy's life.

  "Why not. A handsome American like you can go a long way with these backwards gals. If not her, the town is full of other willing young maidens." Well at least I gave a way out saying there could be other dating in town, but all he heard was, "Go for it! She's yours!"

  When we got to the barn our two horses from the day before were waiting for us against a post. Hanna and Wrangler were walking out with an off white horse for Hanna. "Are you ready to mount up boys?" We had some small talk, and then got on our horses. My legs, and I'm sure Handy's, hurt like hell.

  "Well, I feel like a tour guide, what have you already seen or want to see?" She asked.

  I replied thinking about making this time useful in my investigation. William mentioned the Hidden Six and so did Maggie. "What is the Hidden Six, and is it around here?"

  "It's an old house, no longer used, toward town a bit but still on the estate. We can go that way if you like."

  The ride was rough on me, although, it was only ten minutes slow walking away, I still did not quite have the knack of riding on the English saddle. Handy was being very talkative to Hanna. He teased her when he could. Basically just getting attention. Riding over a ridge, I saw the top of a two story wood house emerge. Hanna informed us that when work was being done on the main house, the laborers worked too late to get home to town at night and were too noisy to have close by, so the original Hamelton (William's grandfather) had them build their own house in this small valley. The "valley" looked more like a one acre hole in the ground with an opening gorge on the far end. The Hidden Six was rarely used since then. Once a mistress lived there, another time all the house servants had to stay there and so on over the several hundred of years of only occasional use. Most of the time it sat falling apart waiting for a use to have it fixed up again. It did not seem to have been used for some years. Everything was still in one piece with some parts changed as needed and all it needed was some care and a good cleaning. We hitched the horses on the post in front and went in to look. Handy was just interested in chatting to Hanna so I wandered off to investigate.