Free A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes

Excalibur.’
    ‘Excalibur?’ Rhyllann shivered. The fabled sword of Arthur, the great Welsh Warrior. Rightfully known as Caliburn in the Celtic myths. Wren’s smile grew broader.
    ‘Hmm. The Plantagenets managed to entwine their history with the Arthurian legends. Richard the Lionheart supposedly had Excalibur – that’s what made him invincible.’ Adding ‘Okay, that’s enough for tonight. Don’t want to ruin your eyesight. Turn it off.’ Wren was right. Auntie Dottie could boss for England. But Rhyllann obeyed without murmuring.
    ‘Auntie Dottie – were you ever a teacher?’ Wren asked.
    She laughed again, chucking him under the chin this time.
    ‘Bless your heart – you’re determined to find me an interesting job aren’t you!’ Wren started to protest. ‘No sweetie – Housewife all my life, never had my own kids, so I started fostering. Keeps me out of mischief!’
    ‘Lucky for us!’ Wren said with the sweetest of smiles.
    Rhyllann decided to try: ‘Lucky for us.’ He echoed.
    ‘Get away with the pair of you! Little charmers! Come along – bed time.’
    She had to be joking. But she wasn’t.
     
    Laying in bed Rhyllann whispered to Wren. ‘What do you think happened to uncle Dottie?’
    Wren whispered back. ‘Dunno. D’you think she ate him? She’s fat enough.’
    Rhyllann sniggered. ‘Aunt Dottie were you ever a spider?’
    Wren reached across to wallop him. Then came out with one of his stupid little bits of useless information.
    ‘You know, someone once said “King John’s virtues outweighed all the virtues of any other king.” Forget who though.’  
    ‘Tell someone who might actually care!’ Rhyllann sneered in his best “Dr. Evil” voice.
    The room quietened. Rhyllann thought Wren was accessing his memory banks like some half arsed computer. Peering through the gloom he saw Wren had fallen asleep. Those knockout tablets worked fast. His own mind swarmed with Kings, lost treasure and mythical swords, battling to decide how much of Wren’s story to believe.
    Fact. King John had lost his treasure. Only according to Wren, it wasn’t lost, but hidden. The entire baggage train? His daughter, Princess Joan would have had to move mountains, or be a magician. Tomorrow, he would make Wren tell him everything. If he was going to be involved, he wanted equal partnership.
    Uneasily he recalled practically kneeling in front of Crombie, and the promise he'd made. He’d given his word. No matter what proof Wren offered, Rhyllann determined they were both staying put, in Dottie Reade’s little haven. His stomach gurgled in contented agreement.
     
    ******
     
    The next day, after Baby Henry’s mum collected him, auntie Dottie became even bossier. She found a heap of chores for them. Rhyllann mowed the lawn, while Wren weeded a flower bed.
    ‘The devil makes work for idle hands!’ She said, overruling any protests. She ignored the dirty looks and mutterings, chivvying them when they slowed, encouraging their efforts. Rhyllann found himself whistling as he tidied the lawn mower away.
    ‘There! Doesn’t that look better. Now we’ll have some lemonade!’
    Wren grinned at Rhyllann as they seated themselves on comfy wicker chairs around a green plastic patio table, knowing his cousin was addicted to the sugar buzz of coke and yearned to guzzle a can.  
    ‘You keep yourself busy Auntie Dottie!’ Rhyllann said, trying not to wince as he sipped. The sun shone warmly on his back. Aunt Dottie’s house was homely, the garden peaceful, and the cooking excellent. If only the lemonade wasn’t so sour. He decided it was an old people thing. Gran loved her acid drops. 
    Aunt Dottie swiped her forehead. She’d worked just as hard alongside them.
    ‘Phew! You’re telling me! Sometimes I do wish I had eight pairs of arms, like a spider.’
    ‘Four. Spiders have eight legs – four pairs.’ Wren corrected, with a meaningful glance at Rhyllann.
    Aunt Dottie chuckled. ‘Get you! Proper