The Mystery of Rackman Castle

“See you next week, Valerie!” One of my friends yelled from inside the bus.

“Bye!” I yelled back as I dashed down the lane leading to the castle which loomed majestically in the distance above the birch and oak trees.

Dragging my bike from the bushes, I shook my head as I watched the bus lurch hurriedly forward even while the door was still closing. It hadn't ceased to amaze me yet at how everyone I had met so far in Scotland apparently didn't like the old place. Who couldn't like an ancient mansion like Rackman Castle? Adventure hung heavy in the atmosphere like maple syrup on pancakes.

I had never been in Scotland before 2 weeks ago. My father, who is an archaeologist, got hired on an excavation not too far from Rackman Castle, which, by the way, is owned by Dad's new boss.

Riding through the main gate and dropping my bike in front of my tower that I was occupying, I bounded up the couple of flights of stairs which led to my room. Mom had been very persistent on having everything unpacked before I did any exploring. We finished yesterday, so, since today is Friday, I have tonight and all weekend to explore to my heart's content. And if any of these tall-tales that I have been hearing for these past 2 weeks were even close to anything true, then my adventurous side of me is going to enjoy this immensely.

Dropping my backpack onto the floor and slipping into more casual clothes, I snatched my other pack which I had prepared the night before with a small notebook, pens, plastic zippy bags and a few tools, just in case I needed to do a bit of excavating.

Leaping down the stairs, I wondered where I would start. At the the bottom of the stairs was a heavy-looking door. Shuffling through my ring of keys , I finally found one that fit the lock and I marked the key and the door in the same way so that if I wanted to go through that door again, then I wouldn't have to go through the hassle of finding the key again.

Clicking my flashlight on, I started the decent, inspecting every inch of the wall as I went.

“43, 44, 45, 4...” I retracted my foot as water seeped into my tennis shoe.

I flashed my light around the room that I had just barely entered. I had to duck my head in order to clear the ceiling as I searched for anything I could use to gauge the depth of the water. It all appeared to be empty. Or was the water covering everything? One thing that I had learned from the rest of the castle is that the ceilings could go anywhere from 6' high to 20 plus feet high. I dared not test the depth with my body. There was no way of telling what might be lurking in these dark waters.

I reluctantly sat down on the step behind me and took a chisel and a ball of twine from my backpack. Tying the two together, I dropped the chisel into the murky depths beside the stairs.

It seemed to take forever for the string to slacken.

“Four feet.” I muttered as I trudged back up the stairs. I didn't trust that kind of depth. I would start my search somewhere else.

Stepping back into the dusky hallway, I closed and relocked the door, then dashed across the street and into another door. Pulling out a blueprint of the old place, I located the room that I now stood in and put a small slash through it. Finding nothing in that room, I finished the X and continued on to the next room.

BONG!

That would be mom saying that Dad was home and supper was ready.

Running through the connecting rooms that led to the Great Dining Hall, I dropped off my back pack on a chair in Dad's office/library and paused in front of the giant double doors that led directly into the Great Dining Hall. Mom would NOT be happy if she saw me running through the 'house', much less barreling through the doors.

Taking a breath, I slipped in through the doors and took my seat.

“Oh! Valerie! I didn't see you come in.” my mother remarked as she turned from placing a dish on the rather large mahogany table. “Usually you come thundering in. I do believe you are learning, Valerie.”

I smiled. Mission accomplished.

Dad glided in at that point and, taking his seat, gave a prayer of thanks for the food.

“How was your day at school?” Dad asked as he reached for the mashed potatoes.

“Wonderful!”

“Any tests this week?”

“No sir. I only have one assignment.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

I smiled mysteriously before answering him. “Learning the history of the area.” I said.

“Is that so?” he asked in mock surprise, then “Are you joking?” he asked quizzically.

“No sir. It's absolutely true and here is my homework paper to prove it.” I said as I pulled a folded piece of paper out of my pocket and handed it to him.

“Well! Bugger me sideways and call me Jud! You are to research the history of the area. I suppose you have a slight advantage having instant access to a whole library of architectural books.”

“True, But most of my classmates are natives here.” I countered.

“Well,” said Dad slowly, “you are right, but most of the stories that have been handed down to them may just be tall-tales.” he pointed out as he handed the paper back to me. “What inspired your teacher?” he asked.

“I don't know.” I shrugged. “I suppose that since I am new to the area and am staying in an apparently 'haunted' castle and it is the talk of the school, my teacher took advantage of the opportunity to give us this assignment.”

“Alright. If you need any help just let me know.” He said.

“In that case, may I borrow some of your books? I found some artifacts in the castle and would like to look them up.”

“Go ahead. Use any books that you need.”

“Thanks Dad!”


Picking up the last item on my shelf for the third time, I still couldn't figure out what it was. The item was heavy and resembled a small rake, but I knew that it wasn't a rake.

Setting it back onto the shelf beside my huge, 4-poster bed, I grabbed my backpack that now held books from the local library and from Dad's and trotted down the stairs. All morning I had been looking over each item and trying to look it up and figured out, but I had never seen anything like it and, looking from page to page through the books, couldn't find anything that resembled them.

Leaving a note posted on the door of my tower, I hopped on my bike and peddled out of the gate and onto the lush moor that lay between the castle and the Northern Sea.

Sitting down on the grass, I flipped through one of the books. Not finding anything that would help me, I stretched out onto the soft heather.

“I wish something would make some since.” I muttered to the clouds.

“I may be able to help you.” a voice offered.

I shot up to see who was there that was never there.

A girl about my own age was standing just a few feet away.

“Who are you?” I asked, a little suspicious. I had never seen her before.

She shrugged. “Just a girl, but I think I can help you, if you wish, of course.”

“Sure.” I figured that she may know something. I might as well except her kind offer.

Smiling, she reached out to me as a silent offer to help me to my feet.

“Thanks.” I said as I accepted her offer.

She shook her head and muttered something about new people.

Leaving my pack and bike where they were, I followed the strange girl to a small building not very far away. The castle wall loomed above us about 10 feet in front of us. As I followed the girl inside, I felt trapped and restricted.

“What is this place?” I inquired of her.

The girl looked at me strangely. “You don't know?” she asked as she handed me some clothes that she had pulled out from a place in the floor. “Where these or you're sure to get caught.”

Giving the strange girl an equally strange look, I obeyed and slipped the tunic on over my clothes.

“Follow me, but quietly” She warned as she opened a trap door in the floor.

“You didn't answer my question.”

She looked p at me with her mysterious dark eyes. “I will show you.”

Without much of a choice, I followed her down a ladder and into the depths of a tunnel.




A man dressed in fancy clothes stopped in front of each rear trembling child and inspected it.

“My master will take this one and that one over there.” he said, his voice gruff and demanding.

It all seemed familiar for some strange reason as I watched the two helpless children be hauled roughly out of line and chained up on an open cart. As they were hauled away and down the road, the rest were herded through the gate by the armed soldiers.

“What's going on?” I asked of the girl while I watched the soldiers disappear inside the outer wall of the castle.

“What you just saw was a slave transaction. These children's parents are poor and were not able to pay the heavy taxes placed upon them by King Harvey, so he took their children as payment and either takes them for himself or sales them to his allies.”

“That's terrible!”

She nodded her head sadly. “I know.”

“Where are they taking the others now?”

She turned her head away and whispered “The dungeons.”

“Isn't there anything we can do?” I asked in shock.

“Not at this point.” she said as she stood. “Come. We can talk.”

Backing away from the bushes that we had been hiding, the girl started to led the way around the perimeter of the castle wall.

“What is this place?” I asked her.

“Surely you know.” was her reply.

“No. I don't.”

“This is the castle of King Harvey. Well, Lord Nairnshire to be exact. He and his family have ruled as Lords and Ladies of Nairnshire for a few hundred years. Lord Harvey IV of Nairnshire slowly gained power and has recently taken over the throne while the true Royal family are not present and have a war separating them from their land and subjects. Most think that the Royal Family have been captured or killed, so it was relatively easy for Lord Nairnshire to take over the title of King. King Fredrik may have been stern, but King Nairnshire is cruelly harsh.”

She paused as we entered a run down village. No one seemed to say much, but the few snippets of conversation that I heard was not English. It had to be Scottish.

“This is my village.” she said.

“You speak English while everyone else speaks Scottish. Why is that?”

The girl studied me for a moment before replying. “Is that strange?” she finally asked.

“Well... I guess not. But if this is your village and everyone here speaks Scottish and not English, then can they not speak English?”

She looked down and hesitated before answering “No.”

“Then why can you speak English?”

“I am English by lineage and birth. We moved here to Scotland just a few years ago.” She pointed to a small thatched cottage. “That is our house.” She said.

“Halt!” a loud voice boomed out behind us.

We both jumped and looked at each other.

“Soldier.” she muttered.

We turned just as a large, burly soldier grabbed the girl by the arm.

“You Bartholomew's girl, no?”

“I...I am.” the poor girl stammered.

“You come with me.” He started to pull her along, but she planted her feet firmly.

“What have I done?” she demanded, clearly irritated.

“You? You, no. Parents? Yes. Now come.”

“What did they do?”

“What you think they do, Smarty? Same as others. No tax, no childs. Come!” and he dragged her away, ignoring her resisting and pleas.

“I'll find you!” I yelled after her.

“Find HER?” the soldier mocked. “End at wippin' post. Ha!”

Casting one last pleading glance my way, the girl was dragged around a corner and out of sight. I knew that I had to find her somehow, and fast.


Slipping through the gates that evening, I looked around the street that separated the outer wall and the actual castle. Apparently castles are built similarly in Scotland.

Leaning against a wall to rest, I jammed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, which I still wore under my long shirt/tunic that the girl had given me to wear. My hand connected with something hard. Trying to move my hand around in my pocket subtly, I realized that I still had the keys to Rackman Castle. Would they work for the doors in Nairnshire Castle? It would be worth a shot. If they were built similarly, then surely some of the keys would work. A plan started to form in my head.

Slipping into a crevasse in the wall, I settled down to wait for night to fall and to watch the guard changes. Using a rock, I scratched on the opposing wall of the crevasse. My list ended up like this:



Nightfall: about 60 guards

3 hours later: change of guard. About 60

Midnight: change. About 70

3 hours later: change. About 40

Dawn: change. Full guards



The whole of the next day I was busy scouting out the area and castle walls. If this castle was as similar to Rackman Castle as I was hoping it was, than a rescue might prove easier than I had originally anticipated.

Hearing trumpet blasts, I whipped around from looking over some doors. Following the sound, I ended up in a large courtyard near the rear of the castle. A large, studded, oaken set of double doors were swung open at the back of the courtyard. Silence flooded throughout the whole crowd while a large stage was rolled out, than the chained prisoners were dragged out in a long line.

The man who was apparently in charge of auctioning off the prisoners spoke in rapid Scottish, than interpreters quickly spouted off what the man had said in their own languages. One was translating into English.

“This young man will start off the Annual Slave Auction directed by our good King Harvey Nairnshire the fourth. We will start with the asking price of 200 crowns. Who will start the bidding? 200 crowns for a strong, healthy young man!”



“None of Nairnshire's slaves are strong or healthy!” A well dressed man beside me raged. “Their all sickly! Every one of them! The ones I bought from you last year either died or are all sick and weak. How can we trust your claim? Prove us their worth to us!”

The stocky man who was selling the slaves bowed to him and spoke to him in English. “I am only doing what my King bids me to do. He has not asked me to show you anything except the slaves themselves. Now,” he turned back to the crowd and repeated his suggestion of 200 crowns for the lad.

“This is out outrageous!!” another finely dressed man exclaimed. “200 crowns? For one boy? I think not! Especially with how they act when we get them home!”

“But, my friend,”The stocky man was saying.

“I am no friend of yours.” the man glared.

The stocky man ignored him and kept on speaking. “these are this year's slaves. Last year was very dry, but this year was very good. 200 crowns, good folks, just 200 crowns and you will have a good, strong young man as a slave.”

Finally someone bought him and the next prisoner was brought up and so the bidding and selling of slaves was under way. Soon the strange girl was pulled up onto the platform.

“Now, who shall start the bidding for this nice girl at 300 crowns?” the English interpreter translated.

A hand was raised in the crowd.

“Excellent! What about 400? Do I have a bid for 400 crowns?”

Another hand rose. I dug into my pocket.

“Good! 500? What about 500 crowns for the young lady?”

The 2 bidders continued to bid back and forth until the price was up to 900 crowns, and the other was hesitant to go any higher.

“Any other bids for the young lady before I sell her?”

“975 crowns for the girl!” I shouted.

“Who will make it 1000?”

No one dared.

“Sold!” I walked up to the stage to hand over the money.

“Wait! A girl like her, buying a slave?! She stole the money most likely!” The man whom I had out bid yelled angrily.

“Say, he's right.” another yelled. “How could she have that kind of money?”

The stocky man turned to me, a scowl on his face.

I grinned. “How about 1,000? I'll give you another 25 crowns.”

He did not find that amusing and pulled something from his belt and started to swing it toward my face, but I ducked just in time and, while he tried to regain his balance and I was crouched, I slipped threw my keys and unlocked the shackles which held the poor girl's feet together.

Standing back up, I quickly undid her handcuffs and gave the auctioneer a kick in the stomach before he could try to hit me again.

Pushing the girl ahead of me, we started to run with all of our might. Soldiers started to pour out of various places and running after us. Their armor wasn't slowing them down very much. Apparently they were used to running in their armor.

Rounding a bend, we ploughed into a horse. Jumping to our feet, we started to run again, but quickly found ourselves surrounded by soldiers.

“You two girls, you stay with us. This is no place to be running around in.” one soldier said.

The girl turned to me sadly. “I'm sorry you wasted all of your money.” she said.

“What money?” the lead soldier asked kindly.

The girl and I looked up in surprise.

“The money I payed to buy her from slavery.” I answered.

“So that's what's going on here.” he said.

The girl and I looked at each other. Surely these weren't Nairnshire's soldiers, they would have known.

“Sire, I say we should attack. It appears that Nairnshire has taken to his own ways.” one soldier was saying to the man whose horse we had run into earlier.

“Very well then. You said that there is slave trading going on?”

“Yes, sir. In the rear courtyard.”

“Good work. Split up!” he called to his men. “we will give them a bit of a surprise, shall we?”

As some of his men hurried to the other side of the castle, the King rode over to where we sat.

“From Nairnshire's soldiers, sire.” The girl said as she quickly stood and curtsied, which I hastened to imitate.

“I haven't the time to ask any further questions right now. Please, stay with my soldiers. They won't harm you. And they have orders to kill any of Nairnshire's soldiers if they try to even get at you two.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty!” We both said as we curtsied again.

The king laughed. “Alright men. Let's go!” And with that the rest of his soldiers, besides the select 6 he had left to tend to us, followed their king to fight Nairnshire and his men.

Our 6 guards led the girl and I out of the castle grounds and out onto the open moor land.

We sat down on the soft heather to rest, but things started to fade, like a dream and you are coming close to wakefulness, except I was sure that it was going the other way. I was tired and was trying hard to not fall asleep. I could still hear the shouts and clanging of steel against steal as enemies came together from the castle wall, but even that wasn't helping me stay awake. I was having trouble keeping things straight.

Searching for anything to help me stay alert, I put my hand over the strange girl's hand.

“You never told me who you are.” I said. “What is your name?”

She smiled at me gently. “That isn't very important. Thank you for saving my life, though.”

Things were starting to go dark and distant again.

“You're welcome.” I said, struggling to stay focused.

“Sleep.” she encouraged gently.

“But your name. What is it? Tell me!” I called out as everything disappeared.

“Valerie Hampton.” came the soft reply. “My name is Valerie Hampton.” Then everything went silent as well.



Opening my eyes, I found myself alone on the heather covered moors with the sound of waves crashing on the beach below instead of the clashing of swords and shouts of men fighting.

Sitting up, I found my bike and backpack not very far away.

Had it all been a dream? It had all been so realistic, though.

Throwing my pack over my shoulder, I hopped onto my bike and peddled as fast as I could back to the castle. There were no soldiers or slaves.

Riding the perimeter of the castle wall, there were no villages.

Pshsh!!!

My bike tire went flat.

Getting off of it, I knelt on the ground to find the nail in the tire. Something hard and pointed contacted with my hand. Abandoning the search for the nail, I started to pull heather away from the object. Grabbing a large handful of particularly stubborn grass, I gave it a good yank and a whole section of the ground came up with it. A trap door. I thought as I grabbed the flashlight off of my bike. I left the door open and descended the ladder. I walked a long way before coming to another ladder. After climbing that ladder, I came face to face with a very decided trap door and, finally getting it open, found myself out on the moor again. Looking around I found the castle a little way off and, toward the ocean, a patch of crumpled heather. Directly around the trap door were bricks strewn about carelessly and a heather covered floor.

This is the same place that the girl brought me to. I thought. Then I realized why all of my keys had worked on the locks. It was the same castle! But how could that be? There was no false King and no soldiers surrounding it.

Flipping open one of the books from my backpack, I looked up Harvey and found Harvey, Lord Nairnshire, King page 204.

Turning to page 204, I red this entry.


Lord Harvey IV of Nairnshire lived from 1856 - 1901 and was hung at the age of 45 as a usurper of the royal throne and slave trader.

No one knows exactly where his castle was in Nairnshire. Some believe that it no longer stands while others disagree and say that it was one of the few castles still standing in the Nairnshire area. Most agree that it is (or, was) near the sea, while a small portion believe it was more inland.


Looking up Rackman Castle I came across this entry.


Many believe that Rackman Castle is haunted with the ghosts of the Lords and Ladies who, being a very wicked line, were either die in disgrace or commit suicide.

No one is sure where the name 'Rackman' came from. A few think that it originated from one of the families who lived there, but so far there is nothing from history that supports this theory.

Scientists believe that the name came from a small, hand-held whip that the occupants used on their personal slaves. It had a metal handle that had leather wrapped around it and stiff pieces of rawhide that varied from 4 to 10 inches in length. In this way it resembled a small rake and, therefore, the castle came to be known as Rakeman and was latter changed to Rackman Castle.



My mind went immediately to the last artifact that I had found Friday night. The description that the book gave had described it perfectly.

I put the book away and tore away the heather covering the floor. Grabbing one of the bricks, I began to pound at the rotten wood that used to be the floor. One of the boards finally gave way and, prying it up, I found a hole with bricks lining it. Inside the hole was a gray tunic. Pulling it out and unfolding it, I held it up to myself. It was the same one that the girl had given me to wear.



Carefully folding the deteriorating material, I laid it aside and pulled some other garments out of the hole. Placing the new-found items on top of the books that were still inside of my backpack, I rummaged around in the hole once more but, finding nothing else, I closed the trap door and walked along the top of the tunnel back to my bike.

Wheeling the injured warrior of a bike back to my tower, I pondered the situation. Was today Monday, or was it still Saturday? If this was Saturday, then had I gone back in time and back again to when I had left? But then I had spent a whole night watching the guard shifts in a crevasse of the wall.

The castle wall!

I threw aside my bike and ran through the main gate. Finding the slit in the wall where I was sure it had been, I slipped inside. Brushing my hand across the wall, dirt fell away to reveal faint scratches that read


Nightfall: about 60 guards

3 hours later: change of guard. About 60

Midnight: change. About 70

3 hours later: change. About 40

Dawn: change. Full guards


Stunned, I shuffled out of the crevasse and slowly, thoughtfully, I made my way to my tower and up the winding stairs to my room.

Collapsing onto my bed, my mind began to sort through what I had experienced and seen from Friday night until now.

BONG!

The now-familiar sound of the diner bell reached my ears. With a sigh, I sat up and glanced about my room. My eyes rested on the hand-held rake-looking-object.

A memory, or a thought, I am not sure which, jerked me back to the slave auction. The stocky auctioneer grabbed something from his belt and drew it back so he could swing it toward my face, but I ducked. That object was exactly the same as the one sitting on my shelf. Or, at least, it was the same kind.

Excitement now surged through me as I realized that it was quite likely I had gone back in time to a place in history that history isn't sure about. But was it actually real? Doubt still hung about it. I needed a bit more proof before I believed what I had supposedly seen.

BONG!

Oh! I had forgotten about lunch.

I hurried down the stairs and across the street. Closing the Great Front Doors behind me, I paused in the hallway. Hanging to the left was a painted portrait of a lady. The caption said “Queen Judith”. Across from her, hanging on the right wall, was another portrait. It's caption said “King Harvey IV”. I carefully stepped closer to it and looked at the date that was just below the name. The date was 1901.

Now I was sure that it hadn't all been a dream. I had gone back in time, experienced a slave auction, met myself and came back to when and where I had left. I had become a part of history and there was no denying it.