Chapter 6: The Walking Dead

I enter the gaol, tentatively. “I’m here to see Jen,” I say, with the intonation of a question. The gaoler nods, picks up a band of keys and leads me down a corridor. It is dark, lamp-lit, and has a very heavy presence to it. There are scores of metal doors, numbered, solid. The key goes into the keyhole with a metallic clatter, grating on my ears. And the door swings open, screeching. I look in, and sitting in the sad, small cell is Jen. 

Her cheeks are tear-stained, reddened. Her eyes full of remorse and loss. Her usually groomed bob haircut is dishevelled. “Maj!” she sobs, running at me and throwing her arms around me. “Oh Maj!” The gaoler leaves us. We can’t get out without passing him and escape was never on the cards anyway. We sit down on Jen’s bed. “What are they saying out there?”

“They’re calling you a witch.”

Jen’s head falls into her hands. “But I didn’t know that the crown was enchanted!”

“I did warn you not to wear it.”

“I know! And I wasn’t going to anyway because it’s a ghastly looking thing! So I put it away, and I didn’t think that Rosa would -” Jen breaks off into a whimper. “Poor Rosa.” I decide not to say anything. “What will they do to me? I mean, not much worse can happen! Sister dead, shunned from society, my own family disowns me, thrown into gaol, accused of witchcraft. This is getting beyond ridiculous, Maj.”

I take a deep intake of breath and speak. “You’re to be hanged. This afternoon. Publicly for all to see.” 

“Well, what do you know; I was wrong,” she eventually says with heavy sarcasm. I can hardly blame her though. “Is there nothing we can do?”

I dislike my inclusion in her statement, but let it lie. “No.”

“You won’t help to bust me out of here?”

“Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Because you gave me the stupid thing!”

“You took it from me. I was given no choice!”

“You should have stood up for yourself! Grow some balls, Maj!”

“You should have taken better care. You knew that Rosa went through your stuff! You should have put it out of harm’s way!”

“I didn’t know that it was harmful!”

“I warned you!”

“You were mental!” she yells at me. We hold each other’s eye contact for quite a while. “The whole town thought that finding Angus’ body had driven you insane.”  I look away. “I know you’re not now though,” she says, as if it redeems her. It doesn’t. I want to reply. I want to shout at her until she understands. Instead, I get up and leave. I walk out of the cell and down the corridor, past the gaoler and outside. 

And now that I have a chance to think, now that my rage has subsided, I see that my walking out probably made her feel worse than all the words I could have shouted put together.

I walk to the blacksmith’s. Work will distract. I hope it will. Nigel is there, hammering away at the anvil. And so is Maud, sharpening her axe. Her steel-grey hair has been pulled back tightly into a bun. Her wrinkled face constantly frowning. She nods at me. My blood grows cold, but I nod back respectfully. Sparks fly as she sharpens it and my heart wrenches. Not because I love Jen, because I don’t. She’s too cruel to be loved by me. My heart wrenched because we grew up together and I feel I owe her some form of friendship, even though I have not received much in return. I owe her nothing. The presence of Maud chills me. I leave and stand in the street, hearing the metallic grinding of the axe being sharpened. The stage is before me, the final constructs being erected. Jen’s death is ever-creeping forward.

I decide that I can’t let Jen die. She is innocent. It is not in the name of friendship that I want her life to be spared. It is in the name of justice. If she dies, then all that I believe in will be false and disproved. Jen deserves life for her innocence in the matter at hand, not for her social skills. I am prepared. And I am going to rescue her. The damned damsel in distress. 

__________

The gaoler walks down the corridor. I can hear his footsteps approaching. He stands in the doorway and looks at me. “You are granted a final request,” he announces emotionlessly.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. “I would like to visit my sister’s grave please,” I say, in little more than a whisper. “It would mean a lot to me.”

“I shall see if it is possible.”

I wear a black cloak to hide my identity to everyone. I am guided out of the gaol and down the backstreets towards the graveyard. We arrive and the miniature wooden gate is held open for me. I enter the cemetery and walk solemnly through the arrangements of gravestones and tombs. Statues of angels and innocent children haunt my steps, the names on the headstones leaping out at me. And I am all too aware that soon I will join them. A tear creeps out from my eye, but I remove it quickly. I must remain strong. For the sake of my dignity, I must.

And suddenly before me is the new grave. It is covered in flowers: daffodils and snowdrops, pansies and daisies. It’s beautiful, delicate. The headstone is small and quaint and like the flowers, clean and fresh. The name reads: Rosa Pole, Aged 6. May You Be Crowned Eternally In The Afterlife. The epitaph stings my heart. As if they hadn’t made me feel bad enough as it is. I kneel beside the grave and stroke the top of the headstone. “Oh Rosa,” I say fondly. “You little bitch.” I stand again. “I will join you soon, it seems. I bet you can’t wait to see me so you can get your own back.” I put the grave behind me and walk back confidently to my escort, muttering “The little cow” under my breath.

________

Bridgeside is a very lovely town. And everyone is very friendly, accommodating. Although the presence of tragedy is still resonant. The townsfolk hold back, just a little bit, but noticeably. But what I have learned is that the older sister, whose name is Jennifer, is to be hanged this afternoon. What a mistake! I feel that it is my duty to save her, but I don’t know how. You read stories, don’t you, of all these people doing heroic things and you dream that if that day should come you would step up and be that heroic person. But I am clueless! This Jennifer girl needs saving, and it seems that I am the one that it falls upon to do so. Great.

I’ve already seen some Crowners of the Light around the town. We have exchanged nods of respect and acknowledgement. I don’t know how they intend to get the Crown. I don’t even know how I am going to get the Crown! But these things generally unfold by themselves, don’t they. It’s just a matter of recognising and taking the opportunity as and when it comes. I do hope that I don’t miss it when the time comes.

The town square was all a-buzz, you know. I found it rather morbid! All these people gathering to celebrate death. If the issue wasn’t so important to me, I would lock myself in my house and shut the curtains. And I would keep my children indoors too! My goodness, the number of children running around! It was an absolute farce. I think I have been away from society for too long. 

There was a shout. “Oy!”. I, with everyone else, turned around. There was a large, tall man, clad in white overalls. I think he must have been a butcher, but that is beside the point really. He was pointing, his whole arm outstretched. Almost in sync, the crowd followed his finger. Down one of the streets off the town square was a teenage boy and girl sneaking across the road. I assumed that she was the accused and he was a boy who had taken the matter of injustice into his own hands because all of a sudden there was such a furore that I thought I heard the wooden platform creak from the vibrations of the angry shouts. The girl was seized and dragged up onto the wooden stage of death (I think that phrase is a little melodramatic but I shall leave it as it is - I rather like it!). The boy was held in an armlock by the butcher, and could not escape despite his feeble efforts. The three men who were holding the girl shouted out to everyone: “The witch has cast a spell on the boy and tried to escape. She must be killed now!” The crowd cheered, and the girl, Jennifer, was thrown to her knees. It was only now that I noticed how brave her face was, but I could see her holding back the tears. 

Somebody from the crowd threw a woodcutter’s axe up to one of the men, who kicked Jennifer’s head down and raised the axe above his head. My heart felt like it had stopped. I froze. My desire to save the girl had been immobilized by the speed of the turning events. 

And then an arrow struck the man with the axe and he fell down dead, dropping the axe behind him. Everyone turned to see who had shot the arrow. There was silence, deathly silence. There were five men, dressed in brown, hooded habits - their faces were obscured by shadow. They were all armed with highly visible scimitars. The crowd parted for them as they slowly stepped forward and onto the stage in a V formation. Like geese. But not funny like geese. The other two men climbed down and rejoined the crowd, afraid and intimidated by the hooded men’s control. The man at the front of the V took his hood down - I recognised him from the Crowners of the Light and I tried to blend subtly into the crowd. “My name is ReNay. I am a Man of Justice.” (The way he spoke seemed to suggest capitalization). “This Girl has Violated your Laws. She must be Punished!” The crowd were silent. “My Brothers and I believe in sentences that reflect the Crime. She murdered her Sister with the Crown, now she must Suffer the Crown also.” The townsfolk were still quiet. I don’t think they totally understood what was going on. “Make the Witch wear the Crown. That is a Death Sentence in itself. Bring forth the Crown!” he called with punctuation. 

“No! Please, no!” Jen cried out.

The crowd enjoyed Jen’s torment. I watched her scared face look up to ReNay in disbelief and fear. Who was this man to take control over her life, well, her death? ReNay never looked at her. Maybe he couldn’t stand to. Maybe he’s done this thing so many times he knows how best to save his conscience. But he was cold. One of the Crowners - he was at the back of the V-formation -  brought the Crown forward. I don’t know how they got hold of it, or where it came from. But he stepped up and handed the Crown to ReNay.

“Stop! Please! I beg of you! I implore you! Don’t do this!” Jen was screaming.

“Silence!” ReNay screamed, with a stroke of mania. Jen stopped, but her sobbing, her whimpering continued in short, stifled bursts. “I Punish you to Walk the Land Alone Forever. You shall Wear this Crown. This is your Death Sentence.” Jen choked on her breath.

ReNay stood behind Jen and started to lower the Crown. I could see him muttering something to her, but I couldn’t hear. “What is going on here?” a voice suddenly demanded. Nobody had noticed, but the Mayor and a grey-haired woman with an axe had just ascended onto the stage. He was a portly chap, I imagined him quite jolly when his authority was not under siege by total strangers. Both ReNay and Jen looked over. Jen’s face showed a sense of hope, of safety. But then ReNay crowned her, and her face fell. Jen started to scream and cry! She pulled away from ReNay screaming, the Crown securely on her head. “No-o-o!” she bawled, tottering about the wooden stage. My heart doubled its speed, and dropped to the pit of my stomach. I had failed Jen. I had not picked up the courage to save her. Her life was over. She was the walking dead.

Chapter 3: I Held Her Hand

Angus’ funeral took place a month ago today. Autumn is setting in, the cold chill in the air, the leaves now bronzed red, orange and yellow by the summer sun and beginning to carpet the ground. Everything seems to be dying. 

I suppose that might be a bit melodramatic, but I can’t stand it! Every day Angus’ corpse haunts me. Every night, the crowned skeleton lunges at me. It’s driving me mad. I’ve been working long shifts at the blacksmith’s, hammering away long into the night. Anything to keep away from her. Working keeps me sane - I can lose myself in the rhythms of the process, sounds mad, doesn’t it! I think the townsfolk think I’m mad. Everyone tries to chat to me, but it sounds patronising and forced, even from my own mother!

There was a knock at my door and I was disturbed from my diary. I bade entry, and Jennifer, a friend of mine that I had grown up with, opened the door. “Hi Maj,” she greeted. I could pick out the tone that gave Jennifer away as being uneasy to be with me. I suspected my mother had forced her into this situation.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m fine thanks,” Jennifer replied, politely but automatically. “Everyone’s worried about you, you know,” Jennifer then blurted out.

“They shouldn’t worry. I’m fine.”

“Nobody blames you.”

“Ok.”

“So stop blaming yourself.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

Jennifer leaned against the window sill. I could tell she was staring at me, but my gaze was fixated upon the floor. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if Jennifer would understand. It was going to be complicated. “I didn’t just find Angus down there,” I began, teasing her into it.

“That’s a start. What did you find then?”

“A woman.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She gave me her crown and that was what made her die. Like her life was part of the crown.”

Jennifer started to leave. “Stop playing games.”

“I’m not,” I protested, but not whiningly.

“Then what are you saying?” she demanded.

“That, well… It was sort of, like, magic.” I hated the words I was saying. They sounded ridiculous.

“Grow up, Maj! We’re not kids anymore!”

“I’m not making this up! I have the crown, and I have the book that she had too!”

“Show me.”

I reached under my bed and pulled them out and placed them in front of me on my bed. The setting sun that shone through the window caught on the crown and sent beams of light around my room. I shuffled back. Jen stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at the objects I had produced. “Ok.” She took a long pause, and I felt it best not to interrupt. 

After a minute or so, she commenced. “So what does the book say?”

“I haven’t read it. I haven’t even opened it,” I admitted. I was too scared to open it for fear of what universal secrets may be revealed to me. “Do you want to?”

She hesitated. “Not sure.” A pause. “What do you think it’s about?”

I shrugged. “It could be a book of magic,” I suggested.

“Or a religious text,” Jen proposed.

“Or a history of Kingdom Faithful.”

“Or it could be a cook book.”

Another pause.

“Go on, open it,” I said, pushing the book in her direction.

Jen inhaled and picked up the book. Slowly, she opened the front cover. It was a tense moment. And then suddenly she scoffed. “Idiot,” she muttered to me. She showed me the inside of the book  and I saw carved into the pages a pocket, inside of which was a hipflask. “So you saw a drunk down there?” Jen laughed.

“No! I know what I saw!”

“Maybe you had some of this, and thought you saw what you claim to have seen.”

“Jen, please.”

“Right, I’m off. You’ve successfully wasted my time.” She picked up her woollen scarf from the end of my bed and wrapped it around her neck. “And I’m taking these away from you. It’s for your own good. It means you can put this whole business behind you, ok?” I didn’t have a say in the matter, because whilst she was speaking, she was scooping the book and the crown into her arms.

“Don’t wear it,” I advised. “The woman told me that wearing the crown could destroy you.” I could see myself from Jen’s point of view - ridiculous, crazed and paranoid. She didn’t even say goodbye, she just marched out the door. 

__________

Rosa was about six years old, a sweet child. She had platinum blonde hair that was plaited every morning by her mother, and the biggest of blue eyes. She was the girl that all the other mothers hated because she was prettier than their own children, but always say how adorable she is in public. To some she was an adorable princess, to others she was sickly sweet, and to most she was both. 

She was also Jen’s younger sister. They shared a small room above their parent’s grocer’s shop. Jen resented this, as Rosa was constantly mimicking her fashion sense, her delivery of speech, the general things that older sisters begrudge their siblings for. And one of the things that Rosa had a habit of doing was going through Jen’s belongings and trying them for herself. You can see where this is going.

It was two days after Jen had taken the crown and the book from Maj, and she had shoved them straight into a drawer, with no desire to deal with them. They would have to wait until one of those big clear-out days. And so, ever so predictably, Rosa stumbled across them in the drawer. I say ‘them’, she didn’t notice the book, just the shiny, pretty crown. Out of the drawer it came. Rosa looked at it carefully, grinning at its beauty. And then she placed it on her head. Now she would be that pretty princess.

“Hello there,” a voice said. Rosa jumped and turned around. Standing behind her was a woman. She was tall and beautiful, with deadly pale skin and wonderful brown eyes.   Her hair was strawberry blonde and tumbled about her shoulders. “It’s very nice to meet you, Rosa.” Her voice was sugared. The little girl stared.

“Who are you?” she eventually asked. “Are you a princess because you’re very beautiful?”

The woman laughed. “I’m not a princess, just a normal person. Do you want to play?” Rosa nodded enthusiastically. “Me too. Take my hand,” the woman said, stretching out her hand. Rosa took it and they walked hand-in-hand out of the room and out of the grocer’s into the main street of Bridgeside. 

Rosa looked up at her new hero. “Can you make me look as beautiful as you?”

“Maybe when you’re older.”

Rosa smiled, excited for when she would be that old.

“Rosa!” A voice rang across the street. The little girl turned around. So did the woman. Jen was running towards them. “You’ve been going through my stuff again! Why did you take the crown?”

“Because it was pretty.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To play.”

“Mum said not to leave the house. What made you think you could?”

“I held her hand.”

Jen, angry, snatched the crown from her younger sister’s head. Rosa collapsed in a crumpled heap on the dusty road. Jen looked in anger and annoyance at first. “Get up, Rosa. Rosa?” And then the irritation shifted to fear. She knelt beside her sister. “Rosa!” But Rosa’s spirit had departed from this world. 

Chapter 1: I Hugged Death

“Wait, Angus! Wait for me!” the little girl’s voice whined.

“No! You have to run faster if you want to be on this treasure hunt!”

“Yeah, Joan!”

“Shut up, Courage!”

The three children were running across the familiar, verdant countryside of their home in the Kingdom Faithful. Angus was the eldest at eleven, his younger sister Joan was barely five. And Courage was the Mayor’s son, a tag-along if ever there was one. They were from the town of Bridgeside, named for the bridge that crossed the River Full at that place. It was the only bridge for miles either way along the river.

“We’re nearly at the waterfall!” Angus shouted back to his devotees. He rounded the curved corner of the adjacent forest and there was the waterfall, the great gushing of water tumbling over the grey-white rocks. Angus had seen this waterfall many times over and no longer appreciated its unique beauty. He stopped before it and looked at the scrap of paper in his hands. “There’s a cave near here apparently,” he murmured. 

“What?” Courage hyperventilated.

“A cave. Near here.”

“Do you think it’s behind the waterfall?”

“Like in the fairy tales!” Joan piped up. “The storyteller from the fair told one about the girl who got lost in the land behind the waterfall and then the nymphs bullied her and she cried. And the nymphs turned her into a statue but you can still hear her crying and her tears and stuff.”

“Whatever,” Angus said dismissively.

“They’re just stories, Joan,” Courage sneered.

“I know!” Joan protested. “But I liked it, and it’s about stuff behind waterfalls! I was right, wasn’t I, Angus?” But Angus was walking forward now, towards the waterfall and the cliff. He pressed himself against the cliff and looked behind the wall of water. “What are you doing?” Joan asked.

“There’s something back there.”

“But you’ll get wet!”

“Some things are worth getting wet for, Joan.”

Courage sniggered.

“Grow up, Courage,” Angus ordered.

“Yeah, Courage!” Joan repeated.

Courage sulked. 

Angus started to move along the cliff towards the waterfall and then started to sidle along a small ledge. Joan started to follow. “No, Joan. You stay here. It’s too dangerous for you. And Courage, you’re too large really.” Courage sulked even further. “I won’t be long.” And Angus disappeared behind the cascading water. 

_________

I had run down with everyone else as soon as the news had hit the town, and half an hour later, there was a great commotion rippling through Bridgeside. It seemed as though half the town had turned up to see what had happened at the waterfall. Angus’ mother, Madeline, was in tears and being supported by her husband, Angus and Joan’s step-father, Agrinn. The Mayor was there trying to keep everything in some kind of order. The baker’s wife and the baker’s apprentice were there providing hot buns and pies for everyone. The blacksmith, Nigel, my master, had gone behind the waterfall to see what he could find. Everyone was on edge waiting for the verdict. 

Finally Nigel returned through the water with his lantern. “There’s a small cavern back there. It’s tiny and very dark without a light. There’s a hole in the ground. It’s quite narrow. I wouldn’t fit down. I suspect that Angus fell down or climbed down and got stuck. I couldn’t see him or really hear anything, but the noise of the waterfall would drown out any sound down there so there’s no reason to start worrying.”

“Right, so we need someone to go down,” Mayor Naize announced. “Someone of a slight build, and old enough to know what to do.” 

“Might I suggest my apprentice, Maj?” Nigel said. 

My heart fell. Much as I wanted to know what had happened to poor Angus and to be able to contribute, I wasn’t particularly prepared for what I might find. My family was close to his, and I had watched him grow up since I was six and he was born. Eleven years I had known Angus and I dreaded to think. I had an image in my mind: blood and water and black hair soaked in the stuff and contorted angles and white eyes. The thought was sickening. But I was old enough to be responsible and slender enough, it seemed, to fit down this hole.

Somebody slapped me on the back, encouraging my good sportsmanship, and I stumbled forward into the gap that had emerged around me. “Good on you, Majesty,” the Mayor said. And I was officially elected without even volunteering as a candidate. Good old democracy.

Five minutes later I found myself edging along the stone ledge and under the cascading water, clutching a lantern and with a rope around my shoulder. Nigel was right behind me. 

The cavern was indeed very small. It was damp underfoot, and I could feel cold drips of water falling from the ceiling, but the waterfall had soaked me enough already so I didn’t much care. There in the middle of the cavern was the hole. In the lamp-light it appeared as a black void. It was like the entrance to the afterlife. I admit, I was scared. “Maj! Tie the rope round your waist!” Nigel shouted to me over the roar of the waterfall. When I was safely harnessed up, I started to clamber down the hole with the blacksmith holding the other end of the rope, keeping me safe and alive.

The chute was narrow, just like Nigel the blacksmith had said, but large enough for Angus to have fallen. I descended about ten feet until my feet hit the ground. “I’m at the bottom!” I called up. “Send a lantern down!” In the darkness, I surveyed the area. It was quieter down here, the roar from the waterfall was now a muffled gush. There were more waterdrops and echoes of waterdrops dripping musically from the ceiling onto the floor. A minute or so later, a lantern was lowered down the hole. I took it and held it up to illuminate the cavern I was standing in now. It appeared to be a long, cavernous tunnel that disappeared to the the right around a corner thirty feet away from where I was standing. I stepped forward and inadvertently kicked something. I looked down and found Angus’s corpse at my feet. 

I knelt down beside the body. The image I had imagined earlier was so much messier and noisier (for some reason there was noise in my mind - not any specific noise, just generic noise) than this. There was a pool of blood around his head, glistening coolly and evilly in the light from the lantern. The boy had cracked his skull open. “Oh Angus. You silly boy,” I remember muttering. Angus’ eyes stared gauntly at the wall, not white but full of the same colour, the same sky blue, from when he was alive. I swallowed and closed his  eyes gently and respectfully. “May you be protected in the afterlife.” 

I stood back up and called, choking, up the tunnel the news. And then slowly I tied the rope around the corpse and watched it ascend the cruel shaft that had ended the boy’s life. As I waited for the rope to fall back down, my eye caught a piece of paper that had been lying close to where Angus had fallen. I picked it up and held it close to the lantern. It appeared to be a map with instructions. A treasure map. “Maj?” Nigel called down. “Here’s the rope.”

“Tie it off to something up there. I’m going to explore this cave.” I ignored his protests and commands and started to tread down the tunnel. It occurred to me as I walked that beyond the noise of the dripping water, there was another sound. Quiet. But definitely there. A breathing, soft breathing. A whimper. “Hello?” I called out. My voice echoed horribly, reverberating off the cold walls.

I turned the corner and sitting in a simple, stone throne before me, in a bath of blue light falling from a pinpoint hole in the ceiling, was a person. It didn’t move or say anything. Indeed, it seemed to be dead, and that would have made perfect sense, having been stuck down here for eternity. It was a woman, I figured, with very dark eyes. She was wearing a simple golden crown, rich red gowns and gold shoes. I approached slowly, very aware of where I placed my feet. The closer to her I got, the more I noticed about her. Her body was skeletal, appearing as though someone had crudely stretched a sheet of skin over a bag of bones. Her once-jet black hair was thin, faded and old. And then I noticed that the eyes were not dark but non-existent. Just two empty sockets. And it was the water falling from the ceiling onto her face that created the effect that she was crying. 

But as I moved even closer, I realised that there was no water dripping from the ceiling here. She was actually crying. “Hello?” I repeated, in a gasp this time. “Are you alright?” Of course, the answer to that was obvious. “What are you doing here?” The woman didn’t reply. “A boy just died back there. Didn’t you hear him? Who are you?”

The woman’s head lolled forward and the eye sockets stared blankly at me. I stepped back, my stomach hugging my heart, so it felt. “Death.” Her voice was deep and moaning, cracked and full of despair. I shivered. The hairs on my arms stood on end and I came out in goosebumps. I didn’t dare reply. She continued eventually: “I have spent an eternity with death. I have hugged death. And so I am death and I hate death and I want death.” I was frozen, petrified with fear. “It’s been so long.” Her skin stretched thinly to accommodate her speech. She seemed to be near translucent. “Who are you?”

“My name is Maj.”

“Maj… How majestic.” There was the possibility that she smiled at that point, although I didn’t quite get her joke. So she added a suffix to my name. It wasn’t like anyone else had done that all the way through my life.

I stood in terror and in awe at this feat of nature. It was ridiculous. She could not be this old. She should have died hundreds of years ago. “A name like that deserves a royal title. Take the Crown,” she ordered me. “But do not wear it for you shall suffer great pain in the end.” She attempted to lift her arms to remove the garment, but she was either too weak or too old or both to do so. She gave up. “Take it.” I slowly approached with great caution, reached out and took the crown from the woman’s head. She sighed a glorious and pitiful sigh and her body disintegrated into dust, leaving a small skeleton in red robes bathed in blue light. 

I found myself two feet back from where I had been standing. I had jumped at spontaneous disintegration. The anonymous woman had finally been granted death at the removal of the crown. With no longer the life and will, the arms fell to the skeleton’s side and a heavy object fell from the folds of the robes. It hit the ground with a heavy thud that echoed through the cavern. I moved forward, still aware of the skeleton in case it should move again, and discovered the heavy object to be a book, the pages were gilded and crumpled, the hard cover, fraying. I picked it up and backed away from the body hastily, and as soon as I was around the corner, I ran to the rope and escaped the cave of death.