Part 1: The Lost Valley
When news of the landslide broke, Jane's first thought was of her husband. Aaron had always loved Nanskilly Gardens, and the idea that she might never again experience the place as they'd known it together was like losing a part of him all over again. Her second thought, only a little later, was of an incredibly speculative, dead-end piece of research that she'd given up on almost a decade previously. It was unlikely that anything would come of it, but she sent a brief message to one of her contacts in Exeter all the same.
Forty-eight hours later she was on the M5, heading for a cheap B&B in Trewissick. They'd only been sent rough details of the Maenventon find, but Nick and Aderyn had spent the entire journey down bouncing theory after theory between them. Nick was Jane's newest PhD student: still rather wet behind the ears, but keen to succeed, even if everyday practicalities sometimes passed him by. Addie, on the other hand, had seen it all before. She was a solid researcher, a colleague from across the road in archaeology, with no fear of the necessary months or years of grubbing around in the dirt for the slightest new result. She also had a mind that could identify crucial details with pinpoint accuracy. Shock of pink hair aside, she'd always reminded Jane of her daughter.
"A grave marker," Nick said, holding one of the pictures up to the window. "Or a… yeah! A proper political statement, like Men Scryfa!"
Jane and Addie shared an indulgent smile. Nick's puppyish enthusiasm could get a little wearying at times, but they both agreed on his potential.
"Are you going to let him down, or shall I?" Addie asked.
"Gently please," Jane murmured, but Addie was already off.
"…Because it's probably just another Neolithic remnant, no different to any of the other holed stones around."
"Come on, Addie, you're not saying this is just some kind of coincidence? Right where the stories say the Well used to be?"
"The Maenventon story might have nothing to do with it at all. And even if it does, it's most likely just accreted elements of other stories over the millennia."
"Anyone would think you didn't want to find anything special there!"
Addie shrugged. "Been burned before. Might not even be a proper holed stone at all - just a fortuitously shaped lump of greenstone or granite, pressed into duty by superstitious 18th century locals as a ward against domestic disasters and cantankerous faeries."
"Or," Jane said, "Nick might be right. We may have a real find on our hands here, something we can tie to a specific time and place."
"And then spend the next decade arguing with the Oxford lot over," Addie added with a chuckle."
The debate continued right the way into Cornwall, with diversions into the quality of the local beer, the inevitable roadworks, and a few even wilder postulations on the nature of the Maenventon Stone. Jane didn't think Nick was at all serious about it being a new addition to the local Arthuriana, one that might bridge the gap between the Trewissick Grail, the Kemare Head menhirs and the Drustanus Stone of Fowey… not when it was far more likely that he was just waxing romantic in the hope of winding Aderyn up. But by the time they arrived at Nanskilly, the feeling of anticipation, of being on the verge of something unprecedented and exciting, had clearly rubbed off on everyone.
Jane entered the gardens with a spring in her step. The rain was falling heavily, much as it had done for the past three weeks, but even in the rain Nanskilly was a truly beautiful place. They'd missed the best of the rhododendrons by months, but Jane could easily fill an entire day wandering the paths that wove through the landscape, from tropical valley to kitchen garden, through forested slopes and meandering parkland. She hadn't visited for years, not since Aaron's death, but unless her memory was fooling her it had only grown more beautiful in the interim. The more distant reaches of the gardens would be quiet, too. The wet weather had driven the tourists off the beaches, but from all she could see they were mostly keeping to the boardwalks and the gravel, and the inevitably overflowing tea-room.
Promising herself that there'd be plenty of time to revisit her memories over the weeks ahead, Jane beckoned for Addie and Nick to join her. They'd been sheltering beneath a towering yew tree beside the entrance, Addie hunkered down into the depths of her threadbare parka, while Nick studied one of the garden plans they'd picked up at the main entrance, comparing it to Jane's old OS map that they'd brought down in the car with them. He had a look of almost giddy excitement on his face, and Jane had no trouble imagining what was going through his mind. A new find, the acclaim of his peers… no, of experts all around the world! And his PhD and multiple publications to follow, a fast-track to a lectureship, and perhaps even a book! No, these days it'd be film-rights. She smothered a grin.
"What's the plan, boss?" Addie asked, hands still deeply wedged in her coat pockets.
"They said they'd be expecting us down in the valley," Jane said, raising her voice for Nick's benefit - he was still struggling to return the map to its original folds.
"There's a back route running from behind the nursery we can take," Nick suggested as he came over, gesturing in completely the wrong direction. "Then we can take a short-cut across Highmoor, and pick up one of the main paths into the Lost Valley."
"Cornwall, land of tautologies," Addie muttered. "Give it here." She yanked the smaller of the two maps from Nick's hands, turned it ninety degrees, and gave a confident nod. "It's this way. Honestly, what do they teach you lot these days?"
"You should know, Dr Aderyn Pritchard-Jones!"
"Students!" Addie rolled her eyes. "You don't know how lucky you are! Coming, Jane?"
They were all three of them wearing walking boots and sensible trousers, but Jane remembered the slope on the far side of Highmoor being boggy at the best of times, and the university frowned on expense claims for dry-cleaning. "I'll take the scenic route, and meet you down there. Old legs, you know."
Jane took one of the steeper routes into the valley. The steps had been kept in good repair and even in the rain the gravel made sound footing. Her feet made a steady crunch, crunch as she walked, though not so loud that they drowned out the heavy patter of rain on foliage. She did her best to empty her mind of everything but the landscape - it wasn't easy, but she didn't want to prejudice her first impressions of the Maenventon site with wish fulfilment - either Nick's, or her own.
As she descended deeper into the gardens, she became more and more convinced that there was something missing. The air held the scent of ocean air and lush growth - a smell she'd recognise anywhere - mixed with a faint hint of wood smoke. The banana plants and tropical flowers lining the south-facing slopes of the valley might not be native species, but even so, Nanskilly felt quintessentially Cornish. A chainsaw was buzzing somewhere nearby. They'd lost a number of trees in the recent storms, she remembered. The tall Scots pines that dominated the gardens' eastern boundary had survived more or less intact, as had the rookeries that occupied them.
That was what it was, Jane realised. Birdsong. She hadn't heard even a sparrow since-
A loud caw interrupted her thoughts, almost as if the bird had heard her thinking. Well, that just went to show how ridiculous she was being!
The noise had come from somewhere off to her right, where the path ahead was obscured by towering holly bushes, thick with a multitude of pale green berries. Jane continued onwards, curious. Beyond the hollies, a gnarled and ancient oak tree rose from the centre of the path. A man wearing a high-vis vest stood in front of it, gesticulating angrily at something. A blackbird, Jane saw, perched in one of the lower branches.
The man grabbed a fallen stick from the side of the path, and lobbed it at the tree. "Gi' off with you!" he yelled.
It clattered against the branch the blackbird was sitting on, but the bird didn't even ruffle a feather. It cawed again, loudly, and the man visibly flinched.
"Well, you don't see that every day!" Jane said. "Is it sick, do you think?"
The man grunted something indecipherable, but at that moment Jane was far more interested in the bird. It didn't look sick. But there was something in its demeanour, in the tilt of its head and the look in its unfathomable black eyes as it gazed directly back at her…
Jane had a sudden feeling that this was something she was meant to see. That the bird had stayed where it was for the sole purpose of waiting for her.
And then it did move, dropping from its perch to a swift and sudden burst of flight. Jane froze, rooted to the spot, as the blackbird passed bare inches to the right of her head, the down-stroke of one of its wings brushing the collar of her coat.
"Bloody thing's got some nerve!" said the man. "Though I s'pose it's better'n havin' 'em pester the customers up at the café" He huffed noisily, and eyed her with suspicion. "Not much point you carrying on this way. Closed for maintenance this end of valley, we are. Storm damage, see."
"I'm here to examine the Maenventon find. It is this way, isn't it?"
"Your name?"
"Professor Halliwell."
The expression on his face turned briefly to outright doubt as he fished a walkie-talkie out his pocket. "Rowe speaking. Got a Professor 'ere to see the stone. Yeah. Yeah, Halliwell, that's right, but I thought we were expecting three?" He glanced across at her, the request for information clear.
"My colleagues cut across Highmoor."
The man - Rowe - tutted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no, never mind that. 'pparently they're coming over Highmoor. Yeah. Better get one of the quads ready, eh? Cheers, see you in five."
Slipping the walkie-talkie back inside his jacket, he flashed Jane a grin. "Welcome to Nanskilly, Professor Halliwell," he said, suddenly all charm. "And 'ave we got something to show you!"
The site was a wound of fallen trees, churned mud and stone against the hillside. The landslide having happened only a few days past, there were still several teams hard at work staking in temporary fencing to stabilise the upper parts of the slope, as well as clearing debris from the lower valley. Rowe introduced her to the site foreman, then disappeared on a quadbike to rescue Nick and Addie from their ill-advised short-cut. It was a good half hour before they reappeared, Addie muddied to the hips and Nick even worse off. By then, Jane had a much better idea of what they were dealing with, and it was everything that she'd always hoped to find. Not just any old holed stone, but a full ceremonial artefact. The carvings had grown indistinct with age, and gave an impression of a pattern that was always ever so slightly out of view, but given enough photos they'd soon piece it all together.
"Usual routine, Jane?" Addie asked, already removing the lens-cap from her camera.
Jane nodded. She'd taken a few photos of her own already, but they were a poor substitute for the reality. "Standard aspects, and see if you can get better contrast from the east side. If not, I'll ask someone for some spots."
"I'm thinking a panorama from up-slope, too. But not until after I've given this lovely a proper looking over."
Knowing that Addie would be fully occupied with her own thoughts for some time to come, Jane turned her full attention to her student. "Nick, talk me through what you're seeing."
"It looks old enough, but it's not really much of a well, is it? I mean, I can see how the name came about, but…" Nick trailed off, frowning, then dropped down on to all fours beside her. Quite heedless of the mud, he pressed his head against the ground, the better to inspect the stone from that level. "Fuck me! Is that Latin?"
"Some of it." Jane translated on the fly. "Something-or-other breath of the dawn, something-something sanctify? The way it spirals like that, I'm pretty sure there'll be more on the other side, too. But look here." She traced a finger in a loose oval in the air above the stone. " This is definitely not Latin."
"What is it then?" Nick asked. Absently, he wiped at his cheek, smearing the mud even more. "That's well weird."
Jane wasn't entirely sure herself. For some reason, none of her sketches had come out right yet, and if she stared at it too long her eyes started aching. Probably the odd reflections coming off the pooled water in the stone's centre. She shivered, feeling a sudden sense of unease, then immediately felt foolish. It was only Addie, standing behind her.
"Looks like a PhD thesis, three or four research grants and a decade of publications to me!" Addie said. "You lucky, lucky sod!"