Ancient Ring

Britain, 1947. That night was cold as fear. The boy wanted to shout "wait for me!" but didn't dare to. His feet sank into deep snow but he kept lifting them out and trying to run. His eyes were wide and his breath laboured. He was falling behind. Around him trees and shrubs were encased in frost. Behind him, in the distance, beams from torches pierced the darkness. Someone shouted "stop!" Paw prints of a badger lay across his path. He ploughed through them.

Heavy boots hit something slippery that lay under wet snow. He got only a second to register this before it broke and he fell through it. The boy cried out, drowning sounds of shattering ice. "No, no." This couldn't be happening. It just had. Intense cold penetrated winter clothes. Frigid water doubled their weight. His eyes bulged and his limbs flailed in all directions. He tried to get out but ice round the hole broke off under his weight. It felt as if a concrete block was crushing his chest. Tears flowed.

The boy tried to raise aching arms, but his coat had absorbed so much water that it weighed him down. Water entered his airway, triggering coughs and splutters. His heart went into overdrive. Pain seared battling lungs. Bright lights shimmered in his eyes, then everything went black

. Months later. Chad Parry narrates.

I saw a tufted duck float past. He dived, then popped up some distance away. He was on a small lake that had formed in an abandoned quarry. I was lying on my back on a grassy slope. Tall grasses, thistles and buttercups grew behind me. Two butterflies fluttered past. Further back, trees provided shade. Across deep water, steep cliffs rose up. My fishing line dangled in the lake, but nothing was biting yet. I closed my eyes and pulled my hat down my forehead. It felt hot for so early in the season. I smiled and lines on my forehead smoothed out. There was no one else around.

I'd given my catch from yesterday to one of my neighbours. Food is still rationed so they needed it for their tea. Now I needed something for my family.

I decided to check that fishing line. I've been deaf since birth so I wouldn't hear a fish splashing around. I opened my eyes and saw the rod being tugged. I scrambled to my feet, walked over a narrow strip of gravel and reeled in a big trout, brown as Spanish eyes. He looked little different to so many other catches. It was only when I took him home and handed him over to Mum that we learned his secret.

I sat on our sofa reading a history book. Sunshine streamed in, between embroidered curtains. Mum came in from the kitchen and signed "Chad, I found this in the stomach of that trout you caught." She held out her right hand. My jaw dropped and my eyes popped. I could hardly believe what I saw.

There was a gold finger ring on Mum's palm. It was decorated with spirals. A red garnet had been set into it. The oval stone had been carved into a full frontal image of a naked cherub. God knows how the jeweller put so much detail into such a small object. I laid my book on our coffee table, then took the ring and inspected it.

Next I remembered something. Last winter someone broke into Black Deer Hall, which is only a few miles from Northworthy. They stole some valuable antiques that hadn't been seen since: a ring, a necklace, two broaches and three silver plates. The police thought a gang did it because they found tracks of several people in the snow, but nobody had been arrested. There were photos of the stolen artifacts in the papers. I recognised Mum's discovery from those. Goosebumps rose on my skin and I shook my head in disbelief.

Dad said "Sylvia, I'm going to call the police."

It wasn't long before a young constable turned up at our house. His name was Archie Ward. He took a seat by our wireless, examined the ring and comfirmed it was one of the stolen items. "I'll have to take this back to Black Deer Hall," he said. Dad translated his words into signs for me.

Then Mum spoke up. "Can we come with you officer? I worked in the kitchen at the hall before I got married. I'd like to see it again."

"I don't see why not ma'm. Her Grace might want to meet the family who retreved it anyway."

Constable Ward took the ring to the police station. His colleagues went to the quarry and dredged sun dappled shallows but didn't find any more antiques.

.A few days later Mum and I set out for Black Deer Hall. Dad had to be at work. The constable gave us a lift in his car. Since the gang hadn't been caught we felt safer with him. We rolled the windows down but still felt hot and stuffy. Sitting in the back I smelt a whiff of perfume, and it wasn't Mum's. "You dark horse Archie Ward," I thought. I took my camera with me.

We drove through parkland with oak and ash trees. At one point a herd of fallow deer crossed the road and we stopped to let them pass. We turned a corner and saw a hill with a ring of trees around it, like a timber necklace. Much nearer we came across a military truck parked on the roadside. Troops had been billited on the estate and not all had gone home. Soldiers stood around the truck and one young man was working on its engine. To our surprise he wasn't in any kind of uniform. Odours from a cowpat reached us.

Constable Ward stopped and asked "do you need any help?" "No thanks," a soldier replied. "Mr Oxley's nearly fixed it. His dad was a mechanic so he grew up with engines." "

"My Dad was a mechanic too," Ward replied. Mum interprated for me.

Oxley finished his repair, stood up and closed the dull green bonnet. A soldier turned the engine on and it worked. The men grinned at Oxley and each shook his hand. One ruffled his hair and made him laugh, another patted him on the back. Oxley gave one man a friendly punch and this raised laughs.

"Jim, Mr Oxley, is deaf," the back patter explained. "He taught us to sign and he shared a lot of local knowledge with us."

I signed "hello, I'm deaf too." Jim Oxley ignored me, all his attention was on those soldiers.

"We've got to go, we've got an appointment with Her Grace," Constable Ward explained. "Good day to you all." We drove on. I was puzzled and a bit annoyed with that Jim.

Then Black Deer Hall came into view. It stood three stories tall and was topped by a triangular pediment. Fluted columns ran from ground to roof. Carved ancanthus leaves fanned out on top of them. They looked like petrified fountains. Statues of Roman gods and godesses decorated the roof. It was surrounded by a walled garden.

We were glad to get out of the hot car. I'd never met a duchess before. My stomach tingled as I looked ahead to it. Constable Ward took a case, then led us into the hall through a back door. A butler greeted us and escorted us through several corridors. We stopped at an oak door and he knocked on it, then ushered us into the office beyond it.

Her Grace was there, sitting behind a modern desk. A photograph of her father in an army uniform hung behind her. As we came in she looked up from heaps of papers. There were bags under her eyes but a steely glint in them. We introduced ourselves, then Constable Ward opened his case and took out the ancient ring. Her Grace's eyes lit up when she saw it.

"Thank you so much, all of you but Mr Parry in particular," she said. "We had no idea where to begin to find it. I was in dispair. Its teriffic to have it back." Mum interprated for me

Her Grace took butter coloured gold between long fingers and her lips curled upwards. "This ring dates from Anglo Saxon times," Her Grace explained. "We are taught the Saxons were brutes but they greatly admired some aspects of Roman culture. Having made this ring they set a Roman stone into it. Then it must've escaped from someone's finger. About a hundred years ago one of our gardeners found it while digging foundations for a greenhouse."

"It must've bin the Great Conservatory," Mum said. "It was based on the one at Chatsworth," she signed to me. Turning back to Her Grace Mum asked "is it all right for us to see it later on?"

The other woman's face fell and her shoulders slumped. "That's impossible now Mrs Parry," she replied. "Coal was rationed for us like everyone else and so we couldn't heat the place. Most of our gardeners were called up when war broke out. The beautiful, productive greenhouse has been demolished."

Mum turned pale and reached for my hand. I took it and squeezed it. I thought "if its come to this perhaps some surviving gardeners stole the ring. Or did Her Grace arrange the theft so she could claim on the insurance?"

The others exchanged anxious looks. I raised my hands to ask "what's wrong? Before I could sign Mum made the gesture for "fire!" An alarm must've sounded. Her Grace rose from her chair, then we all left her office. The Duchess was still clutching ancient gold. She put it in her handbag. My camera hung on my chest, warmed by morning sun.

We trooped out of the building and stood under a nearby oak tree. Other people gathered around us: the butler, maids, cleaners, plumbers, electricians and cooks. Then soldiers in uniform emerged. Oxley was among them. I scanned the scene, looking for any plume of smoke, but couldn't see any. The butler and some maids went around counting us and making sure everyone had got out. Mum signed to me "its all right Chad, the fire brigade are on their way." She was trying to be strong for me, but her eyes betrayed fear.

A thought occured to me. I signed "Mum, I'm going to photograph this." It was bound to be in our local paper. The magazine I work for would be interested too. I took a few pictures, then turned and walked up a gentle slope. I told Mum so the fire brigade would know where I was. I could get a wider view from further back. A bumblebee flew up from a clump of clover. I noticed a fire engine in the distance.

I took some photos of Black Deer Hall with all those people outside. A black and green spider descended from a twig, on a silken thread. I'm afraid of spiders and so shifted my position to avoid it. Then I had a better view of one group in particular, those soldiers in green and brown. There was Jim Oxley signing to a soldier. A fly landed on my lens and I flicked it away. Then my finger froze on the button.

I couldn't follow what Jim was signing. The soldier replied in signs and again I didn't understand. My eyebrows rose and I clenched my teeth. I pressed the shutter then hurried back to Mum, to mottled shade from oak leaves. I asked her to tell Constable Ward Jim Oxley was faking deafness and she did.

Now I didn't see all of what followed, but other people told Mum about it and she translated for me. Constable Ward turned to where Jim had been. He wasn't there so Ward went looking for him. Everyone else stood facing the house. The fire engine arrived. It stopped outside the Hall. The butler went and told the crew what had happened. In the crowd some people were talking to their workmates. One young maid looked upset so Mum put an arm round her shoulders. "We got through the war didn't we," Mum said. "We'll get through this too."

Ward approached Her Grace. Then his jaw dropped, he bunched up his arm muscles and broke into a run. Jim Oxley had come up behind Her Grace and begun sliding a finger into her handbag. She was distracted by the emergency and so was everyone around her.

Ward shouted "stop! Stop!" The duchess turned, gasped, yanked her bag away and ran. She had saved the ring. Jim Oxley saw the officer and took to his heels. We learned later that Oxley had set off a false alarm, hoping to steal the ring while everyone else was distracted.

Having been spotted Jim raced across sunlit parkland like a greyhound, past ash trees with open crowns. Some plumbers and electricians realised what was happening and ran behing Archie Ward. They might've been wolves chasing a stag. Shirts got drenched in persperation. Tongues and throats dried up. People flicked beads of sweat out of sore eyes. Dry twigs snapped under pounding feet. The police car sat parked some distance away. If Ward had run back to it he would've risked losing his quarry before he could reach it.

The runners mounted a gentle rise. A black car sat parked on the other side. Nobody was with it as Jim had stolen it hours earlier. He raced towards it. Ward closed in and grabbed him by his collar. The thief drove an elbow into the constable's stomach, making him let go and stumble. Oxley threw himself into the car, fired up its engine and drove off. In his wake dust mingled with exhaust fumes, powdering short grass. Ward staggered on, holding his stomach and twisting his face. Then he stopped, clenched both fists, dug fingernails deep into sweaty flesh, threw back his head and howled "no, no-o!" Panting staff from Black Deer Hall halted alongside him and asked if he was all right.

The thief accelerated as he approached a bend. Then a herd of fallow deer came galloping out from under trees and across the road, ahead of the car. Jim cried out, slammed on screeching brakes and swerved to avoid them. Colliding with animals that size could've damaged the vehical. Jim lost control, skidded off the drive and hit an oak. Mum says that caused a loud bang. The raven coloured car halted. It made a deep gash in wrinkled bark. Steam poured out from under its bonnet.

Jim Oxley flung a door open and tried to flee. Constable Ward and his companions resumed the pursuit. One of the plumbers stopped by the car and turned the engine off. Ward pursued Jim, caught up and brought him down with a flying tackle, strong arms round his waist. They both sustained bruises on hitting sun baked ground. Spotted deer ran on and we lost sight of them.

Thorough firefighters established it was a false alarm. Everyone returned to Black Deer Hall. Some were still gasping from the chase. Ward marched Jim there with an arm twisted round his, Jim's, back. The constable rang and summoned backup. Then he locked Oxley up in a wine cellar and stood guard by the door.

Me, Mum and Her Grace entered the garden. I noticed signs with names of various features on them.

"We're opening to the public soon " Her Grace explained. "We may have lost our conservatory but I don't intend to lose my hall."

Mum signed "oh Chad I do 'ope not. What if all those people trampin' through ruin the hall?"

"I think its good. Places like this should be open for everyone to enjoy."

We sat on a low limestone wall. Lichens grew on grey blocks. All around us, hedges had been cut into pyramidal shapes. A circular pond sat on a manicured lawn. Mum tells me crickets were chirping. I smelt newly mown grass. Rolling hills lay ahead. Her Grace asked, through Mum, "Mr Parry, how did you know Mr Oxley was faking his deafness?"

I replied "they talked about him as though he's local Your Grace, yet he was using a foreign sign language. I'm not sure which one, but it certainly wasn't British."

"Thank you Mr Parry, thank you. It was most likely American Sign Language. American troops were billited here for a time."

It came out later that Oxley had met a G.I. who wanted to teach deaf children after the war. This man owned a book on signing and Oxley stole it then studied it. The book's owner got called away for D-day and never came marching home. Fresh troops who didn't know Oxley were billited at the hall. Jim assumed that signing is universal and so did everyone he met before me. He dodged the draft by claiming to be deaf. His miltary friends signed with him about the hall and its contents. After the robbery no one suspected a deaf man. One of the troops told him the ring was coming back and so he planned to steal it again.

Let's get back to me, Mum and Her Grace in the garden. Four snails clung to the shady side of the wall. Water lillies floated on the pond. Tadpoles swan underneath them, like drops of black ink. Our hats gave us some protection from summer heat. Her Grace reached into her handbag and took out her ancient ring. Bright sunshine brought out its warm colours. That hot day was fitting for a Meditteranean gemstone.

"Was it worth a man's life?" she asked.

"What do you mean Your Grace?" Mum asked.

"You know how Mr Oxley was one of a gang," came the reply. "A young man from a nearby village may have been another member. He went missing just after we were robbed. The police searched with all their might but never found him. His name was Nick Chadwick. He was an orphan. Perhaps he saw Mr Oxley as the older brother he never had. Now this ring turns up in a fish. I suspect that Mr Chadwick met with a fatal accident whilst running from the hall and that's how our ring came to be in the lake."

"I thought he'd dropped it and ran on without noticing," I signed. "I didn't know someone was missing." Thinking of somebody drowning in cold water, in pitch blackness, made me shudder.

Jim Oxley cracked under questioning and betrayed his associates. The stolen treasures were recovered and the burgalers arrested, all but one.

So far the police had only dredged part of the lake. Now they went back and dived in deeper waters. Nearby cliffs were the colour of gravestones. Tufted ducks were black and white like undertakers. The police found Oxley's partner, or what was left of him, on a bed of gravel. He never saw his eighteenth birthday.

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