A Frisson of Historical Mystery and Romance - Featured Blog Tour for "Daughter of Mercia" by Julia Ibbotson

BOOK EXCERPT:

Dr Anna Petersen is invited to a strange archaeological burial site to interpret runes on a seax.

“Dr Petersen?”

“Oh! Yes?” She swung around, hand frozen on the key in the lock of her university office. She tried to juggle her briefcase and a pile of mail from the post-room as well as the key.

Her name was clearly on the door plate along with her role as medieval historian and runologist in the humanities department. She nodded towards the plaque. “Yes, that’s me.”

She studied the short slim student standing in the corridor, noted her dark curly hair falling askew out of its restraining clips, her pink, flushed, healthy cheeks, her grubby anorak hanging open, scarf loosely draped from her neck. Old well-used Doc Martens – muddy. Hmm. A familiar ‘look’ from her archaeology digs. And from Tom. A shiver trembled up her spine, but Anna nodded at the girl and forced a half-smile.

She turned the key and opened the door, dropping her case on the floor just inside, and switching on the strip-lights in one easy automatic movement. They flashed and buzzed before settling to an uncomfortably bright glare. She swivelled back to the girl, one hand still holding the door handle.

“What can I do for you?” She didn’t think the girl was one of her own post-grad students but could well have been in one of the under-grad classes she occasionally taught for colleagues. She glanced at her watch.

Oh god, she’d only got just about an hour to catch up with her emails and finish going through a rather difficult doctoral student’s latest attempt at a thesis chapter, ahead of her departmental meetings – and then the dreaded tutorial with him. It was her own fault, she knew she should have done it properly yesterday. She was usually so efficient. But yesterday Maman had not been so good.

She was aware that the girl was shuffling in her boots in the doorway. She looked up. The girl was staring at her, biting her lip and frowning. Anna was about to step into her room but hesitated.

“Sorry, but I don’t know who you are – is this something important? …” She realised that she sounded sharper than she wanted but something was bugging her today. Something about this morning and about standing at the front door, about looking up at the threatening, fiery sky that had made her feel uneasy. Something chilling that had crept in to her heart. She tried to soften her voice a little. “Only I … I’m afraid I’m rather busy today.”

The girl flushed. “So … um, it’s about the dig over at Lawton’s Farm?”

It was Anna’s turn to frown. She could almost feel the prickle of her nerve endings. Nerves? At her age? Not yet thirty-three – for heaven’s sake! But this day had not started well, and everything seemed to be conspiring to unsettle her at the moment. She shook her head to dispel her negative thoughts. “Lawton’s Farm? You’ve got me there.”

“So, um, the old HS2 excavations? They’ve found something strange?”

Anna widened her eyes and cocked her head to one side. Interesting. She had heard that they were looking for a possible early Anglo-Saxon settlement on the previously proposed site of the HS2 line but hadn’t got herself involved with it. “Ah, I see. Well, OK, you’d better come in.”

She ushered the girl into the ‘student chair’, a little low and rickety and not too comfortable. She’d meant to request a new one. Anna dropped her mail onto a pile of papers on her desk, moving the briefcase nearer to her swivel chair. She slipped off her trench coat, folded it onto the back of her desk chair and turned on her computer. While it was booting up, Anna swivelled her chair to face the girl and crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt over her knees. Right. Deep breath. Ready now.

“OK, tell me – who are you and what’s your role at the dig? Presumably you want something from me … or the dig leader does?”

The girl shuffled on the worn sagging armchair, unwound her scarf and flapped her anorak open further. “Gosh, it’s hot in here?” Anna didn’t offer to open the window or turn down the radiator thermostat. She didn’t want to make the student too comfortable, stretch this out any longer than necessary. She needed to get on. She just raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Well, it’s a bit sensitive, really. I’m Edie, by the way. I’m helping Matt out on the dig … a bit of work experience, really? Final year student. Matt’s the dig leader, from Manchester Uni, but we’re allowed to join forces. For experience. You know?” She blushed. “He’s sent me to ask you if you could come over, Dr Petersen.”

“Come over? Um … Matt? Matt Beacham?”

“You know him?”

No, Anna didn’t know him, or at least she’d never met Professor Beacham. But she remembered only too well that exchange last year on that inter-uni WhatsApp group. She had pictured in her mind an arrogant entitled man, he seemed so full of his own rightness, unwilling to accept any differing argument. She didn’t mention this of course, but inclined her head, frowning. “OK, and what does he want of me? What has he found?”

“So, well, a burial site and, er, two sets of skeletal remains discovered yesterday in a grave. And a seax with runes on the hilt? Possibly early medieval, Matt thinks. But as that’s not his period, he needs a specialist to examine the runes. And the medieval skull I suppose. Not sure about that. I guess that’d be the osteo-archaeologist? I suggested you to look at the runes because I’m in the final-year under-grad class … you know?”

Unfortunately, Anna didn’t. She really had no idea who was in that class, apart from a list of names. Her main focus was the post-grad students, mainly doctorals. She’d helped colleagues out with the odd lecture and marking for two under-grad classes this past couple of academic years while they were under-staffed. But in those groups there were too many students to know, apart from the best and worst. Actually, she wasn’t even sure she knew the best of them, if they kept their heads down and just got on with it.

But this find, this early medieval dagger, this seax, and its runic inscription, sounded as though it could be of interest. Hmm. “OK ...?”

The girl took a deep breath that caught in her throat. “Well, I … er … I know you specialise in early or pre-Anglo-Saxon and you’re interested in language. And … and you talked about investigating ancient runes in your third lecture this last year …?” The girl leaned forwards and her eyes blazed with passion.

“Right,” Anna nodded. So this girl did listen in lectures. One of the few, she suspected. “Could be interesting.” She glanced at her diary on the screen. “I’ll try to pop over in the morning. And thanks for coming over.”

Time was running away from her. She raised her eyebrows at the girl, who, clutching her scarf, pushed herself up out of the armchair. Anna watched her as she clumped out of the door in her muddy Doc Martens, leaving a trail behind her.

“Oh, wait a minute ... Edie, did you say?” The girl turned, as if surprised that Anna had remembered her name. “You mentioned two sets of skeletal remains along with the seax. Any data?”

“Oh. Yes. So, it’s a bit odd, actually. One male, one female. But Matt says one is early medieval and the other is … well, it’s modern day? And … this just isn’t possible, is it? But you see, they seem to have been buried together in the same grave.”

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