The Wolf Letters. Will Schaefer. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Will Schaefer
Издательство: Ingram
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Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781742980584
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      The Wolf Letters

      Will Schaefer was born in Perth in 1974. After finishing school he worked on farms, railways, drilling rigs and building sites before completing an honours degree in history and ancient history at the University of Western Australia in 2004. He is married with two children and is employed as a town planner. The Wolf Letters is his first novel

      Published by Hybrid Publishers

      Melbourne Victoria Australia

      © 2011

      All rights reserved.

      Copyright © by Will Schaefer

      This publication is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests and enquiries concerning reproduction should be addressed to the Publisher,

      Hybrid Publishers

      PO Box 52, Ormond 3204.

       www.hybridpublishers.com.au

      First published 2011

      National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

      Schaefer, Will, 1974-

      The wolf letters / Will Schaefer.

      9781921665219 (pbk.)

      A823.4

      Typeset in Baskerville

      Cover design: © Gittus Graphics

       www.wolfletters.com

      Digital Distribution: Ebook Alchemy

      ISBN: 9781742980584 (Epub)

      Conversion by Winking Billy

      To my family, with love and gratitude;

      and to my friends, especially Sam, Jason,

      Justin and Nick,

      with much love and gratitude also.

      Acknowledgments

      So many people helped me with this

      book over the last five years that I can

      hardly list them, let alone thank them

      sufficiently. I could never have produced

      the book without their help.

      I’d like to thank my wife, Sandra, for her

      patience and trust, and my parents and

      siblings, for their unstinting faith in me.

      Lots of friends gave helpful feedback: big

      thanks to Dave Robinson, Colin Coley,

      Filippo Fidelio, Max Beckerling, Kate

      Wilkinson and Jeremy “Sureclix” Beard.

      Thanks to the Reece family, especially

      Lesley from the Fremantle Children’s

      Literature Centre. Thanks also to the

      many folks who’ve been so supportive

      but I haven’t the room to list. You know

      who you are.

      Extra special thanks to Sean Doyle of

      Lynk and Jan Scherpenhuizen for the

      honesty, encouragement and epoch-

      makingly-good editorial input, and Louis

      de Vries and Anna Rosner Blay from

      Hybrid Publishers for taking me on and

      being such a pleasure to work with.

      1

       “… the dark death-shadow drove always against them,

       old and young;

       abominable he watched and waited for them, nightlong

       walked the misty moorland.

       Men know not where hell’s familiars fleet against their

       errands!”

       Beowulf, c. 700 AD

      August 26th, 1936. A suffocating morning. Heat - awful, inescapable - had returned to my patch of southern England for the sixth day in a row.

      The sun was a powerful and hated foreigner to us. Thin, milky clouds were perishing above the warming city. Long, sharp church-spire shadows retreated from the playing fields of Allminster University. A blue haze slowly cooked from the leaves of my college’s oaks, elms and beeches. The old city baked like a Roman tile.

      No wind. From the window of my stifling college office, I could see the air begin its shimmering ascent from Stafford Road. I heard insects - hundreds, thousands of them, chirping like fanatics of the heat.

      It would be noon in three hours. By then the carthorses would be loping, miserable and thirsty. The city’s trams would clang and clatter over softening rails. Soot and smoke from factories on the outskirts of the town would settle in a grimy shroud upon its centre and the birds would leave the hedges for the deeper shelter of the trees.

      I let out a sigh. It was hard to concentrate, not least because of the weather. For two hours I had struggled with the lecture I was due to read at tomorrow’s scholars’ conference. I caught myself rubbing my eyes, stretching my face with my fingers and decided that my lecture, “Anglo-Saxon Poetry and Historical Fact: A Study of The Battle of Maldon“, would have to wait a few minutes.

      I lit my pipe and watched the blue smoke drift slowly out through the open window. Feeling myself relax a little, I permitted my eyes to wander. Monday’s edition of The Allminster Telegraph lay on my desk, where Claude had left it for me. The missing artefact … this was big news around here. The whole college, especially my two closest friends, archaeologists Claude Pownall and Kenneth Tiernan, had been talking about little else.

      The Allminster Telegraph

       Monday, August 24, 1936

       Artefact Stolen from Local College in

      Daylight Robbery

      An irreplaceable artefact on loan from Univerzita Karlova in Prague, Czechoslovakia, has been stolen from the Archaeology Department of St Matthew’s College at The University of Allminster. The robbery, described as “brazen” by the police, took place late on Thursday afternoon.

      The item - a wolf-shaped jet ornament thought to have been made in Whitby during the seventh century - was discovered along with several other artefacts in January this year during construction of a dam one mile north of Brno, Czechoslovakia, 110 miles south-east of Prague. Professor Zdenek Sedlacek, a senior archaeologist at Univerzita Karlova, identified the ornament as “early Anglo- Saxon” and loaned it to Allminster University earlier this month as part of a goodwill arrangement between the two institutions. The jet wolf had been in Allminster University’s possession for a mere four hours before it was stolen.

       Mystery: Thief Leaves Other Artefacts

       Untouched

      When asked by the Allminster Telegraph about the jet wolf’s potential value to thieves, Professor Leonard Callaghan, Head of St Matthews’