Chapter 1

A house in the country; what I always wanted, away from the noise and bustle of the city. I always loved the fresh air and quietness, when I used to visit my grandmother. In fact this house was only a few miles from where I visited her. Now that I am closer I must visit her again.

Close by is a small village and five miles away a market town where time seemed to have stood still, especially the village of about ten houses, a small multipurpose shop that had an old petrol pump still outside. Unfortunately they no longer sold petrol, but the red pump with the Shell sign was a reminder of days past. I suppose it was too costly to come out here and remove it, so now it stands on its lonely vigil.

The house I bought was in need of repair, also it was said to be haunted. It has stood empty for three years after the previous owner was found with two lead balls in his chest. How the pistol balls got there was and still is a mystery the Police have yet to solve. All this intrigue and the fact the house needed much work done to it was why I bought it. Having won a large amount of money, I intended to work on it rather than retire and do nothing, for why work when you have ten million pounds in the bank.

It was a four-bedroom house, far too large for me, with all the bedrooms upstairs. The kitchen downstairs was huge with a stone slab floor. There had been a range fire installed at one time, the water pipes were still protruding from the wall. This would have to be the first item installed for this was the only cooking, heating and hot water supply for the whole house.

Most repair work I can do myself, but when anything that is connected to water I am a walking disaster area, so unfortunately this task will have to be done by a recognised plumber. This was why I was standing in the kitchen at the present, waiting for the delivery and fitting of a large AGA cooking range. One that fits into the recess that had been specially built in, how long ago I have no idea, for the house had been built at the turn of the century, the last one, not the recent one.

I had brought all my personal effects with me and stored them in the large shed adjoining the house, which still contained personal effects left by the previous owner. Why you ask had they left these items, no one knows, for the house had stood empty for three years and the county had taken possession and sold it, as no next of kin could be found. Through the years vandals had got in to the main house and slowly stripped it of its furnishings and fittings. Somehow they had left the big shed alone and had remained untouched just the way the previous owner had left it.

The electric and telephone had been connected, all I needed was the range and I would be able to move in and start the changes I had in mind. I could have stayed in a hotel but that was in the town, which was too far for me to travel back and forth to, no, I was going to live among the mess until I had it finished.

All the downstairs rooms have been completed with the exception of one small room off the kitchen, which must have been for a servant originally, but had poor shelving installed along the sides. The upstairs rooms had the walls stripped of years and many layers of wallpaper and then redecorated. It had been a Herculean task at times, but now my house was becoming my dream home. One of the bedrooms I had converted into a bathroom, but a company who specialises in that did that task. The reason, water, my boggy-man, but they made an excellent job of it. All I had to do was the passageway, then I would feel a lot better, it has taken me over seven months of continuous work to reach this stage.

I decided to focus on the small room off the kitchen, which I was going to make into a dry goods pantry. Fitted in the end was a wooden cupboard, which had to come out, if I were going to achieve what I had in mind. I tried removing it but it wouldn't budge. I couldn't see any screws on the sides so it must be screwed at the back. Since the cupboard was deep I had to step inside. Once I did so the doors behind me snapped shut and the back opened, taking me into a small room with a floor to ceiling window. On the outside my car wasn't parked outside and the large shed wasn't there. Also it was raining heavily, yet only minutes ago I was outside and the sun had been shinning.

The scene didn't look like anything I had viewed around the house. The road; there was no road only three ruts. Then I noticed there was no water splashes on the window, it was crystal clear. Was this a picture, no, I could see the leaves on the trees being whipped by the driving rain and I could see the rain splashing into the puddles on the ground.

As I looked down there were brown splotches on the floor, each side of the window were cupboards, outside clothes on the left and undergarments and high boots on the right. High boots, it suddenly sunk in, who wears these high boots nowadays? Lying on a shelf was two soft leather bags; I picked one up and found it to be heavy. When I opened it up it must have had at least one hundred various guinea gold pieces with George III's head on them. In the other bag was a mixture of silver and copper coins all the same vintage. These were all before 1820 when the currency changed to sovereigns.

On the shelf were two flintlock holster pistols, fifteen inches long, plus a bag of large lead balls and small bags of powder. I opened the powder bag and realised that these were new and never from the period where the pistols came from. This room puzzled me; everything was of a design two centuries old at least. I accidentally put my hand out and to touch the window and there was nothing there, my hand went straight through. I quickly withdrew my hand and jumped back in fright and just stood staring out through the transparent opening.

Then to my further amazement, a coach pulled by four horses and two riders at the rear appeared on my left and passed out of view on my right. The driver, passengers sitting on the roof and the two riders behind were all dressed in old-fashioned clothing, the riders wore large capes, which covered the rear of the horse as well. Was I going out of my mind? I left the room the way I came and as I stepped through the front of the cupboard the door at the rear closed. I dashed outside into brilliant sunshine, then ran to the back where my car was parked and from what should have been the back of the storeroom I could see the surfaced road that goes to the village.

When I should have been working I was thinking on what I had seen. Surely the brown stains were made by blood? Wasn't the last owner shot with round lead balls? Were they the same that were beside the two holster flintlock pistols I saw in the cupboard? It appeared to me that the man had passed through the window where my hand had gone through and been shot. How and where did he get shot? What was he doing there to be shot? All those questions were going through my mind; I knew I would never get an answer, well not sitting here.

Once again I went into the room and watched through the opening that looked like a window, I just sat there and watched. The rain had stopped and now the sun was shinning. I must have been sitting there for at least an hour when I spotted a man walking up the road. He came behind the bush and had a piss. It was then I noticed that he had a flap on his trousers, not a button up. His jacket was short only waist long and double-breasted. He was wearing high boots with his trousers tucked in them. His hair was in a ponytail and he had a large leather satchel over his shoulder and across his chest, with a stiff coat folded over the satchel.

As he was about to leave another man approached, but he was barefooted and wore a smock with embroidery on it and baggy calf length duck trousers. He too had his hair in a ponytail and as he passed he raised a closed fist and touched his brow and said something to the first man. I couldn't hear what was said but it looked like a salute that was given. I had seen that form of salute somewhere before, was it a movie or somewhere else, I just couldn't remember.

What I had seen was two classes of people for they dressed different. The first man looked prosperous and the other looked like a peasant. All this was intriguing me, yet I couldn't pluck up the courage to go through the opening. I did put my foot through and a hand, but quickly drew them back.

All that night I tossed and turned, I had made up my mind I would attempt to go through, but if I were, I wanted to be armed and armed good. Now it isn't as difficult to get your hands-on an automatic pistol especially if you have the money. I had gone into town and was sitting in the bar when I casually mentioned in a passing conversation I would like to get hold of a handgun, for protection, since I live in so isolated a house. As I was getting into my car a man whom I hadn't seen in the bar approached me.

"I hear you're in the market for a gun - revolver or automatic?" He asked.

"An automatic, something that will stop a man good and proper."

"Smith and Weston 45 be all right, I'll throw in a couple of hundred rounds as well?"

"How much?"

"250!"

"200!"

"No 250 - remember I'm giving you the ammunition as well, plus two extra mags."

"Done!" I replied.

"Give me ten minutes, meet you in the pub," he said scurrying off.

I walked back into the pub and had another beer and true to his word, he was back in ten minutes. We went out the back, he handed me the gun still in its box, still wrapped in brown greasy paper and five boxes of fifty rounds each. I handed over the money.

"Hi, you have given me five boxes?"

"So, I can't count, when you run out see me, I'll get you more, but you have to pay for the next lot," he said smiling as he walked away.

Hell he looked too smug, has he sold me a pup? I can't very well check it out here, so I placed it all back in the plastic bag he brought it in and made my way home.

After cleaning all the preservative grease off and checking that everything worked I loaded a magazine, took it out to the back of my house and tested the weapon. Everything worked and I managed to hit what I was aiming at, which was as much a surprise to me, but then I was only fifteen yards away from a 44 gallon drum. If I were going to shot at anyone, I think that would be about the right distance to make sure if he were hit he would stay down. I was pleased with myself as I returned to the house.

I had decided that I would try to see what was on the other side of that opening, so once again I returned to the room with the pistol tucked into my waistband and hidden by my pullover. To say that I was nervous as I started to pass into the unknown would be an understatement. First I saw my leg disappear then I was a lot happier when I felt my foot on solid ground. Well not quite solid ground, grass, and then I took the final plunge and the rest of my body followed. Now I was standing looking at the same scene I had seen from the opening. I turned and where the opening had been was only two remnants of a gateway. Only about a metre or less sticking up above ground and a heap of rubble behind it. No structure at all, just a weed and bramble tangle.

Nothing seemed different the air smelt the same, but I knew that I wasn't in my own time; I just felt it in my mind. This was enough for now; I turned and retraced my step, back into the small room. I let out a sigh of relief when I was back on to familiar surrounds. Not much of an exploration, but I felt that was enough for now.

I waited for dusk; taking a small torch I once again passed through the opening and started walking towards where the town was. Well I hoped that it was there, for I hadn't checked the year the town had been founded, but knowing this country the town being a market town would have been there for a long-time.

I hadn't walked far and my shoes and trouser bottoms were muddy even though I tried to keep out of the wheel ruts. Then in the distance I saw the dim yellow lights of the town. It appeared to be much larger than the town I had just visited earlier today, but that may be was just an illusion. I had slipped over my shoulders before leaving, one of the cloaks that were hanging up in the cupboard and I was glad I did for it started to drizzle with rain.

There was only the sound of muffled voices as I passed close to the houses as I entered the town. The mud was everywhere, but some residents had placed planks of wood to walk on. It wasn't until I got closer to the centre that the streets became paved with cobblestones, which made walking so much easier. In front of me were two coaches outside an Inn, for now the sound of voices was much louder, mixed with laughter and the sound of a pipe playing from within.

The glasses on the inn windows were like the bottom of bottles, thick and impossible to see through, but just showed there was light inside. There was no one in the coaches and the horses just stood there with heads lowered tethered to post rails. As I stood close to the door of the Inn two men came out and stood not five feet away from where I was standing in the shadows.

I took particular attention to the way they dressed. I had wondered what an object was which was in the cupboard and I saw one of the men remove one from around his neck. So this was what the object was, a silk neck sock as it was called. Both had on high boots, one was wearing tight trousers the other baggy ones, so there were two different fashions. The one with the extensions on his boots swung a cape and fastened it with a large clasp and chain at the front and walked around the corner of the building. A few seconds later he appeared mounted on a horse. Waving to the other man and spoke for the first time, "Take care Michael, for footpads are abound on the High Road." It was then that I saw that he had two pistols attached to his saddle, one either side.

So it seems that some people go armed, so I didn't feel so bad, but my weapon was so more efficient than the ones they carried. At least I had eleven rounds, which could be fired as fast as I pulled the trigger, but my S&W was so different and would surely draw unwanted attention - must do something about that. As I stood in the shadows and watched the two coaches load their passengers, the manner of their dress and mannerisms, I was beginning to get a feel of this time. One thing I did note was that all the people I saw were far smaller than my six feet three; I think the average height would be about five feet seven or eight. The other thing I noticed or should I say smelt was that they all smelt of sweat as they passed me, I wonder how often they washed, for it was a sour unwashed smell.

After the coaches left, I left also and made my way back, relieved when I stepped through into the room once again. Now I had seen how they dressed and I must admit that their manners were far better than today, the way they helped the three women passengers get settled in the coaches. First I had to see if any of the clothing in the cupboards fitted me.

All the clothing was far too small; I needed these clothes if I were going to be able to move freely in the time through the opening, what time period I still wasn't sure about. There were two things I needed, that was a tailor to make the similar clothing as that hanging in the cupboard. The second was a cobbler to make me at least a pair of boots of a size suitable for me. Also I wanted to speak to a gunsmith, who could alter the flintlock pistols to fire modern ammunition. How does one go about these tasks?

My luck continued to run good, I contacted a costume supplier and in exchange for the clothing I had, plus a small donation he would supply me with a replacement of every item, to suit my size. He needed a week, it was originally going to be a month, but with an extra donation that time was reduced to a week.

I returned to the public house and I saw the man who had supplied me with the S&W standing in a corner. I signalled I wanted to speak to him and he came over.

"Surely you don't want more ammunition already?" He asked.

"No I need to speak to a gunsmith, do you know one?"

"You're speaking to one."

"I want two old flintlock pistols converted to fire modern ammunition."

"Oh hell governor you don't want to ruin two good guns that way, I take it they are in good working order?"

"Perfect working order!"

"Bring them and let me see them, better still bring them to my house and I'll tell you what can be done," he said writing his address on a beer mat and handing it to me.

"When?"

"If you are that eager I'll be in, in an hour's time."

"I'll go and get them, and meet you in one hour," I said finishing my drink and leaving him sitting there.

In one hour I was in his workshop behind his house, where guns of all types were in a glass case with a chain through the guards.

"This is my workshop; all the gentry bring their guns in for repair. I am after all a legal gunsmith," he said, after seeing me looking at all the weapons. "But I get my hands-on some under the counter deals, ones that can't be sold openly."

"Oh my! These are in perfect condition and would fetch a good price," he said as I handed over the two saddle holster pistols.

"Can you convert them to fire a 9mm or something of that calibre?"

"No I won't convert these, I have two similar, but cheaper version of these guns, that I will swap with you for these and convert the others to fire a modern bullet. There is plenty of space to install a tube magazine beneath the barrel; I always wanted to try it. I'll do it for a straight swap; I only need a couple of days, for I already have the drawings to do the conversion. See me in three days, no better make that four days, in case I run into some snags," he said with that smile again on his face.

"Great, just what I wanted," I said. Now I felt a bit better not having to worry about all that flint, powder, wadding and lead balls.

For the next few days I concentrated on finishing the decorating and painting, trying to take my mind off the small room. But at least twice a day I returned just to see what was happening on the other side of the opening. It was on one of these visits and now the cupboards were nearly empty that I discovered the horde of more gold guineas in a small wooden chest under a loose board in the floor of the right cupboard. What had the previous owner been doing to be able to horde such, I was sure was a small fortune even in those days of so much gold coinage. Yet another mystery about the dead previous owner's activities was being revealed.

When I went to pick up my pistols I saw that they weren't exactly like the ones I gave him but thicker and shorter in length.

"I know that these pistols are based on a later model, these were Government Issue, but with the thicker furniture, I was able to install a 10 round tube magazine. You now have a 9mm automatic pistol that even has a longer range than the S&W I sold you. Your pistols were made by Heylin of London a renowned gunsmith. These had the Tower Crown and 'GR' markings, which I've machined off. Now why do you want these two weapons, I could have sold you a 9mm for a quarter the value of one of these pistols you've swapped me."

"I just wanted two modern pistols in an old-fashioned stock," I lied.

"Look if you get any more of these pistols I'll give you a good price for them. Collectors are eager to buy any good quality flintlocks."

"Can you sell me some spare ammunition for these?"

"Here, take four boxes, I've come out of this deal good enough already, for you to be paying for bullets." He said handing me four boxes of 9mm ball.

The following day I had a telephone call from the costume tailors telling me everything was ready to be collected.

That evening I dressed in the outfit, which felt tight and awkward. The jacket felt too short and the flap on the trousers just didn't seem right. The high boots though comfortable when on, were difficult to get on and off, but that was something I had to persevere with. I had to get used to wearing the clothes, so for the rest of the evening I walked around with them on. I even had to get used to the half hunter pocket watch. My pocket watch was a Smith's for I couldn't get hold of a John Walker who was a famous London watchmaker. Looking in the mirror I felt a right burke. The next morning I again dressed in the period clothing, which was becoming more familiar.

Placing my S&W in the shoulder holster the gunsmith had given me I stepped through into my new world. Turning right this time I continued walking, which was surprisingly easier in the high boots. I came to where there was a small village in my time to find a coach-house. This was going to be the most difficult task, entering this place in daylight. I had to face the people sometime and this was as good a time as any.

In the bar that looked similar to some country pubs in my time, except behind the counter were wooden barrels with taps and instead of glasses there were pewter ware tankards hanging from hooks from the shelving above the bar. Nowhere was there spirits on view unless they were in the casks.

"What would be your pleasure Sir, ale or rum? The publican asked.

"Ale please," I answered.

"Single or full?"

"Single please," I answered not knowing the difference.

"That will be one hay-penny," he asked placing the brimming tankard in front of me.

I took one of the halfpennies from the pouch I had placed various denominations and placed it on the counter.

"You'll be a stranger, in these parts?" He asked, at least I understood him.

"Yes, from the colonies," I answered, not knowing what else to say and something to account for my different manner of speech.

"You are welcome to stay here, we get many gentlemen staying here, our beds are clean, free from lice and you have the bed to yourself," he said.

"I am just taking a walk today, I already have lodgings," I answered.

I sat at the scrubbed wooden table on a scrubbed bench stool and watched four men play dominoes. What the game was I couldn't follow. After half an hour I rose to leave.

"Take care Sir there are footpads who will rob you for a halfpenny," the innkeeper called as I reached the door.

"Thank you I will take care."

I walked along the track and at the top of a hill I looked over the landscape, which rolled out to the horizon. Sprinkled randomly were single and clusters of houses all emitting plumes of smoke spiralling up in the still air. Glancing down the other side of the hill there was a coach stopped; three men were pointing pistols, one up at the coach driver dressed in a livery and the other pointing at the main body of the coach. Slowly the door opened and a woman stepped down on to the ground. From here she looked elderly, but one of the men grabbed her roughly and threw her on to the ground.

I don't care what time period this was, no way was I going to stand back and let three ruffians tread an elderly person that way. I ran down the hill, fortunately that they had their backs to me, so by the time I was in pistol range they hadn't spotted me.

Levelling the S&W at the man who had thrown the woman to the ground, for now I saw she was elegantly dressed and no doubt a lady of some importance. "Right just lower your pistols and back off," I called out.