Free Strangers in Company by Jane Aiken Hodge Page A

shuffling queue and collected a candle stump from Mike. “That’s it”—he was cheerfully matter-of-fact—“one to four of you, follow my torch, and I promise you won’t get lost.” He laughed. “No room for that on the secret stair. And notime to waste, either, if we are to see the beehive tomb of Agamemnon.”
    â€œ
Not
Agamemnon,” said Edvardson, from behind Marian, but Mike had already led the way into the dark cavity. There were exclamations, little gasps, giggles, as pair after pair vanished into the darkness.
    Cairthorpe gestured Marian and Stella to go ahead of him. “I’m the rear guard,” he said. “I’ve got a torch.”
    â€œGood.” Marian did not think there was anything good about it, but she was certainly not letting Stella go down that dark stair alone. In the end, she saw, the whole party had decided to go, although both Mrs. Esmond and Mrs. Hilton had shared her own qualms at first But Cairnthorpe was waiting, polite, patient, almost, she felt, relentless. She took a deep breath of thyme-scented air and followed Stella into the dark.
    For a while, sunlight, filtering down from above, made the candles absurdly useless, then, gradually, their flickering light was the only guide down the rough, half-seen steps. Somewhere in front, Marian could hear Mrs. Hilton’s voice raised in a steady grumble, while Mrs. Adams, who seemed to be trying to cling to her husband’s arm, kept up a shrill, unnerving squeak. It made Marian think, uncomfortably, of bats, and she wondered where the professor was in the now rather silent group of people who picked their way, awkwardly, downwards and still downwards in the thick dark. Far ahead, she could see Mike’s torch from time to time, vanishing round a bend in the tunnel, then reappearing rather farther off than she liked. But it was not the kind of going over which one could hurry. She sympathised with Mrs. Duncan, who was now muttering crossly to herself. Suppose the candles did not last the trip? It was not a possibility to think of.
    It seemed a very long way, in the heavy darkness that was beginning to feel damp. Somewhere ahead, there was a scuffle and one of the schoolmistresses spoke. “I don’t much like this,” she said. “OK if I go back, Mike?”
    And from what seemed a good deal farther down, Mike’s voice, apologetic. “Sorry, miss. Down here, in thedark, we must all keep together. It is a rule with us guides. You will understand, I am sure. But not much farther now.”
    â€œOh, very well.” The scuffling below was more pronounced, as, presumably, the group of girls started moving downwards again. Marian and Stella, who had kept moving, had almost caught up with them in a place where, Marian thought, the stairway must widen. Could it be a passing place, from the old days, when men under seige went to and fro with vital flagons of water? Certainly, voices echoed strangely here, and she was aware of the other members of the party, some moving forward, others, apparently, still waiting, perhaps hoping that Mike would change his mind and take them all back.
    But his torch was moving, and candles flickering after it. Marian thought, from the voices she heard, that the more eager members of the party had seized the chance to get ahead. The going was easier, here, where the stairway widened out, and Marian stopped concentrating on her feet to congratulate herself that, in fact, she was bearing this ordeal by darkness better than she had feared. Curiously, it was Stella who seemed disturbed. Her breathing came quick and shallow, and the hand that held their candle was not quite steady.
    Ahead, someone else was in difficulties. A candle went out. There was violent movement, for a moment, and a terrified scream echoed back to them, stopped suddenly, and was caught up by Stella. “What is it?” Marian took the candle from her now uncontrollably