They were two hours behind schedule by the time they were ready to set off. Rob assured Frank that this was nothing to worry about, as re-enactors were not known for their sense of punctuality at the best of times. "They only worry if people aren’t ready to go within five minutes of a fight starting."

Everyone had already changed into their kit, barr the armor, so Frank could rig them up with the miniature two-way radio sets. By the time he’d finished, the equipment was totally invisible. Helmets and hoods would provide adequate cover to completely hide the earpieces once they had arrived at the venue.

"How are you going to hide your ear receiver?" Frank asked Helen with sudden realization, after recovering from the embarrassment of helping her attach the tiny microphone down her cleavage, "seems you’ve decided not to fight today."

"Oh, I shall be wearing a wimple."

"A what?"

"A wimple, it’s a cloth head covering. All Norman ladies wore them as everyday dress – it was a sign of chastity. No one’s going to suspect a thing," she assured him.

Frank nodded. "Looks like we’re sorted then," he smiled, satisfied. "We can head off. Oh, hang on a sec, I’ll just go and bid farewell to Joe." He hopped up the front steps and ran noisily up the stairs, his hobnails fluffing up the carpet pile.

Tim must have heard him coming, because he was standing guard at the attic room door as Frank rounded the bend. "Don’t come any closer!" he boomed, with his palm up.

"I just wanted to bid him farewell," protested Frank, realizing he could hear the others laughing through his earpiece at him. "At least the equipment’s working," he thought.

"You’re not going in! We don’t want to run the risk of you catching the dreaded lergy too," he said brusquely, "besides, the poor lad’s asleep, and I’m not waking him up."

"Nice try Frank!" he heard Mark say.

The older Hardy brother looked hard at Tim for a couple of seconds, trying to judge whether he was lying. "Okay," he said, surrendering to logic, "tell him we’ve gone, and I’ll phone later with any developments."

"Oh god, that reminds me, I forgot my mobile," he heard Helen mutter, and then listened to her leaving the car.

"This is really weird," he next heard Kiwi say from within the interior of the Ford.

"I’m turning this thing off if I have to use the toilet," warned Mark.

"MARK!" Helen shouted from the study, mortified at the thought.

"Thanks, that mental image is going to stay with me for the rest of the day now!" complained Rob.

Frank found he wanting to laugh badly and snorted loudly. Tim regarded him like he was mad.

"No problem…" said Tim, resuming the conversation where they’d left off, not aware of the two way receivers. "Get going and catch the people responsible for Alex’s death. He was a good man and a fine husband - no one deserved to die like that."

Frank was horrified and his ear receiver went quiet - the banter was replaced by a pathetic squeaking noise, which emanated from Helen. He threw a grim smile at Tim, legged it back downstairs and burst in through the study door. "Sorry, I had no idea he was going to say that, I should have turned my radio off," he blurted out to her.

She was leaning up against the computer table with her eyes swimming. Waving her hand dismissively at him, she swallowed hard before answering him. "It’s okay, I’ve got to get used to people mentioning his name, it’ll get easier - and I can think of worse things to overhear." She took a deep breath and gathered herself and her cell phone together.

***

They stood in the temporary car lot in a sunken field behind the castle, which had been set aside for the use of re-enactors. As quickly as possible they kitted themselves out in their armor. Every now and again someone would glance about surreptitiously, to see if they were being observed. However, no one spotted any suspicious looking characters, just other combatants doing the same as them.

Frank looked up at the impressively looming castle, trying not to appear too impressed. He was aware that he had to act nonchalant, as though he was used to visiting Kenilworth Castle, that this was all ‘old hat’. Once he’d finished hanging his sword and other equipment on his belt, he slung the shield by the strap across his back, dropped his gloves into his helmet and lifted it by the chinstrap. He turned and offered his free hand to Helen, in order to completely get into his ‘Alex’ skin.

Helen had wrapped her wimple about her head and had tied on a wide brimmed, plainly woven, straw hat over the top. This helped to protect her eyes and the back of her neck from the sun’s strong rays.

They were directed up a grassy knoll and through a gate by a Marshall and emerged at the back of the castle, which was perched atop a steep hillock.

"That would have provided excellent defenses in its day," remarked Frank, quietly to Helen.

"It did," she agreed. "Where the car’s parked used to be a huge lake, so they only had to worry about being invaded from the front. There’s also a moat, but it’s not full of water anymore. Mind you, it might be water logged after the torrential rain we had last night."

They were directed round to a formally laid out garden and started to bump into the public. Immediately Mark went into character and started to entertain some tourists a few yards ahead.

"Hey, he’s not bad at that," observed Frank.

"Cheers, Pal!" Mark replied into the microphone; as he bent down to plonk his helmet on a small, giggling, blond haired child’s head. He crouched behind his shield as the little girl bashed it with his dagger, which looked like a sword in her tiny hands.

"Careful Mark," warned Frank smiling down into Helen’s face, seeming to anyone watching that he was talking to her, "don’t keep talking into the microphone, we don’t want anyone to think you’re either insanely talking to yourself, or to realize what’s happening." No reaction came from Mark, so he assumed he’d understood the instruction.

"He is insane!" Rob suddenly piped up, "trust me, Frank, when I tell you that no one will notice the difference!"

The only indication Mark’s gave that he’d heard his brother was the pursing of his lips and a stiffening back.

"The fight starts in half an hour," Rob continued, "me and Kiwi are going to walk around the castle and grounds to see if we spot anything suspicious, we’ll see you later."

"Don’t go to far," warned Frank. "I’m not sure of the range of the transmitters and we need to keep tabs on everyone. Make sure you report in regularly as to your whereabouts."

"Okay Mate, understood," said Kiwi, and they both walked off together.

"Look who’s here," said Helen, nudging Frank and tipping her head towards a man who was walking some distance of. It was Officer Kyle. "Keeping his eye on us, no doubt."

"Who is?" asked Kiwi.

"Bramwell Kyle." Frank answered. "Another set of eyes is always useful," he thought aloud. "Everyone, me and Helen are going further into the castle grounds."

"Okay," said Rob who was already out of eyeshot with Kiwi. Mark turned around and nodded his understanding.

Helen suddenly let go of his hand and was gone; Frank quickly turned and saw she was being asked to pose with some Japanese tourists for a photograph. They pushed him into the picture and they both smiled and then resumed their walk.

Frank was relieved that he could hear everybody talking really clearly. He’d been worried that the chain mail would effect reception, but this didn’t seem to be the case.

They left the main path and turned right up a steep grassy slope. At the top there was a set of well-worn steps, which curved, first to the left and then round to the right. They climbed these slowly and carefully to the top, Frank gripping Helen’s hand tighter, aware that their hobnails were not providing adequate grip. Reaching the top, they entered through an opening into the interior of the castle and found themselves in a short roofless corridor. Walking through this, they came out into an open courtyard and turned left.

They were now on a high level, looking down a grassy slope towards a cordoned-off area. Two people in fluorescent yellow jackets where walking around the perimeter, inspecting the plastic barrier strips. "Is that where we’re fighting?" he asked Helen.

She nodded and pointed to just beyond the pitch. "Look, there’s Blue’s stall."

The brightly colored, painted, tarpaulin covered table was just beyond the battlefield, against a Tudor building, which was being used as a shop and cafe. Frank and Helen made their way down the slope, circled around the outside of the barrier and approached Blue. All the time, Frank was explaining to Helen what he wanted her to ask him. He didn’t want to speak directly to Blue, for fear of giving away his American nationality. Also, he could not be sure that the man was not in league with Alan.

Blue was busily selling two ornate, bronze belt buckles to a tourist. Once he’d finished, he looked up at Helen and Frank and smiled. "Hello, after anything special?" he asked them, seemingly not recognizing ‘Alex’ – despite having sold a ring to him a mere three days earlier.

"We wanted to ask you some questions, if that’s okay?" asked Helen.

"Well, have a look at my stock while we talk, you never know what you’ll find."

Helen and Frank’s receivers went silent as the other three started to listen in.

"Okay, we will," smiled Helen.

Frank shrugged his shield off, propped it up against the table and moved slightly away to look at hobnails and belt studs.

Helen continued, "I’ll tell you what I’m really interested in…" she said, "…a nice ring, like the one you sold to a friend of ours recently at the re-enactors’ fayre…"

"…Oh no," interrupted Blue, "I’m not selling any more stuff like that. I got into a whole heap of trouble over that. The man whose stall I was looking after went absolutely mental when he found out I’d sold it."

"Oh, why?" asked Helen, shifting her weight to her other foot and tipping her head slightly to one side.

"Apparently, he had another buyer for it."

"Why didn’t he put it aside then?"

Blue shrugged his shoulders.

Suddenly, the sound of Mark groaning and spluttering came through loudly - he sounded like he was in trouble. Helen’s eyebrows shot up, but she immediately regained her composure and glanced towards Frank who was moving quickly out of earshot.

"Mark, you okay?" she heard Frank ask, at the same time as Rob and Kiwi.

"Hey Kid, have you had lessons in sword-play or something? You beat me!" Mark laughed. Everyone who heard this through their earpieces understood his meaning.

"Understood," Helen heard Rob say and Frank immediately returned to the table.

"Can you put us in touch with this man, so that we can see if we can get a ring like it?"

"I don’t have a contact address or anything, I only knew him as Alan, I’d never met him before the fayre."

Helen tutted. "What a shame," she said, sounding disappointed.

"Ask him for a description," Frank muttered into the microphone.

"What did he look like? You never know, we might bump into him at some point."

"Sandy colored hair, in his forties or fifties, about 5’9 or so. Shorter than me anyway."

"Okay, thanks."

Frank joined her again and Helen took his wallet out of her pouch in order for him to purchase a bag of hobnails. Blue took his money and Frank dropped them into his helmet, slung his shield back across his shoulders and moved away.

"Guys, the description matches the man who picked up the ring," said Kiwi.

"Yeah, looks like you were right," Frank agreed.

A loudspeaker announcement filtered over the field towards them, asking all combatants to make their way to the battlefield.

"Okay people, let’s go," said Rob.

Within five minutes they were standing together along with a large group of at least forty Norman warriors at one end of a field. A group of Saxons numbering about the same where loitering at the other end.

A significantly large audience was starting to gather, the warm weather bringing them out in droves. They perched down on the grass and waited. Children sat towards the front, close to the barriers and Marshals walked to and fro, making sure the youngsters were sitting a safe distance away.

"Mark," said Rob, getting his brother’s attention, "You and ‘Alex’ partner each other while Kiwi and me fight together." He was careful not to call his American friend by his true name.

"Okay," Mark nodded and went and stood next to Frank in the line up.

"Don’t worry Frank," they heard Helen say, from her advantage point under huge old fir tree. She had positioned herself away from the main audience, up the slope a little way, so she could provide further instructions to Frank without being overheard. "Nothing will happen, Mark’ll take care of you - just enjoy the experience - and try not to get killed too quickly!" Mark looked over at her and gave her a victory sign. She returned the gesture and grinned. "By the way, Inspector Kyle is just a little way behind me, so you don’t have to worry about me either."

They all gazed over towards her and saw the policeman leaning against the tree, nonchalantly.

The announcer started to describe the Normans and Saxons to the audience and explain about clothes, weapons, armor etc. and the background to the fight. Both sides did a round of the pitch to show themselves to the large audience. The spectators were encouraged to cheer the Saxons but boo the bad Normans, as they were the invading force.

Finally, both sides lined up again and the narrator announced that the fight was about to begin.

The Saxons began to approach the Normans who were forming into a tight shield wall.

"Hold your shield up Frank, and overlap it with the man next to your left," Helen advised. "Brace you’re shoulder against it."

The Norman line began to pound on the top of their barricade with their swords and other weaponry and shouting at the Saxons. The noise was immense.

The Saxons surged at the shield wall and attempted to bash it down, taking out one or two of the Normans in the process. As these men or women fell to the ground, their comrades made sure they moved along to keep the wall tight and ensure the Saxon’s could not infiltrate.

A small number of the Saxons fell under the barrage of attack from spearmen who were standing and either end, jabbing and poking. After a while, there was a loud call from the commander to fall back and re-group. The two lines parted and everyone backed off.

They could see that a total of five Normans had fallen but only two Saxons.

Gathering around their commanding officer, they were told to form a ‘pig snout’ and charge the opposition to punch through their defenses. Helen heard all this and started giving Frank instructions, aware he wouldn’t know what a ‘pig snout’ was:

"Right," Frank muttered, and then thought about what she’d said, "YOUR JOKING!" he shouted out.

His friends burst out laughing and several re-enactors turned and looked at him in surprise. Frank looked over his shoulder and craned his neck as though he was looking for whoever had shouted. The other combatants soon lost interest and turned forwards again.

The commanding officer started to pull the taller and stronger men out of the crowd and position them along the sides of the ‘V’. "Don’t pick me…don’t pick me!" Frank was thinking. The officer worked his way down the line and indicated to Kiwi, who stepped forward confidentially. He next stopped at Frank and Rob and eyed them both critically, finally placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Both older brothers turned to one another and locked eyes - Rob grinned wolfishly.

"Don’t worry Frank, you’ll enjoy it. At least you’re not going to get trapped in the middle like poor Mark." Helen said, by way of consoling him.

"Ain’t that the truth!" Mark bemoaned.

Frank was positioned at the left of Rob’s shoulder, third from the front. He swallowed, his mouth dry. Mark managed to push his way through so he was standing right next to him. He nudged his American friend and smiled encouragingly.

"Relax Frank, just go with the flow," advised Helen.

"Where are you Kiwi?" asked Rob, quietly.

"Down towards the back," was the answer.

Everybody started banging their swords against the top of their shields again and shouting and growling at the opposition. The Commander started to count down from three to one. Frank’s heart was beating hard, and he could feel sweat dripping off his nose. "I hope the microphones can stand up to this perspiration," was the final thought he had before he felt himself starting to be propelled forward - it was an odd feeling running in a tight bunch, totally out of control.

They picked up speed and he felt as though his feet were hardly touching the ground. Rob shouted "BRACE YOURSELF - HERE WE GO!" and the next thing Frank felt was a collision and saw two Saxons careering off his shield. Looking over the top, he saw that the Saxon defensive line was in complete confusion and disarray. Up to ten men had hit the deck and where trying to scramble up before they could be mowed down. Immediately, Normans where hacking and slicing, taking them out before they could get up, Mark was amongst those doing the slaughtering.

"GET IN THERE FRANK! STOP STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMMY!" yelled Helen urgently, "AND LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!"

Frank spun and stepped away at the same time. A Saxon was advancing quickly on him and brought his sword into play, trying to slice into his side. Frank blocked the blow with his weapon and Mark suddenly appeared from out of nowhere behind the Saxon and pushed his foot into the back of his knee. The Saxon went down with a look of complete surprise on his face and Frank came forward and ran the sword along his jaw line. The man screamed and lay down, playing dead.

Frank flashed a smile quickly at Mark and they jumped into the general melee.

Mark took two more down, while Frank made mincemeat of another big guy. He could see that Rob was having a good battle too and was making his way theatrically around the field with another man. Both where swinging and grunting, making a meal of things to entertain the crowds, in no hurry to finish their fight.

Mark and Frank saw Kiwi go down under the blows of two Saxons and ran forward to help but were too late to stop him from being stabbed to death. The two Saxons turned their attentions to Mark and Frank and they sized each other up. One of the men had pulled a mace out and was brandishing it menacingly. Mark transferred his sword awkwardly into his shield hand and grasped his own mace. Instead of using it to batter, however, he decided to take the opposition by surprise and threw it hard, aiming just above head height. They immediately ducked and raised their shields, not realizing the mace was never in any danger of hitting them anyway.

Mark and Frank screamed as one and charged forward, shoulder barging the two men. The Saxons both fell into a tangled heap under their combined onslaught but still managed to perform a bit of swordplay while they were lying down. From that position, however, the Saxon’s stood no chance and Frank and Mark finished them off with a quick cut and thrust.

They both spun round wildly, readying themselves for the next wave of attack and looked to and fro. So hyped up were they, that it was a good ten seconds before they realized they were the last two standing.

Both dropped their weapons and listened as the audience cheered and clapped. Mark winked at Frank and despite the fact that their muscles ached, they were totally out of breath and were hot and uncomfortable, they leapt up into the air and did a high five.

"Nice one, Mates, proud to be associated!" Kiwi muttered