Journey of a Prince

By Peter Francis

A secret portal has lain dormant for many years, waiting for the right moment to become active. And now, that moment has arrived.

Ten-year-old Timmy Buffet and his faithful terrier Sammy find an old-fashioned red phone box in their family garden in the south of England, unaware that it possesses the power to whisk them to another time and place. Confused and disorientated after an unexpected journey back through the centuries, they stumble upon the Saxon settlement of Fingle, where they are offered hospitality by none other than the King.

As the weeks pass, Timmy becomes firm friends with King Zeva and his charismatic sister, Princess Millie, learning to ride a horse and fire an arrow, while passing on skills from the future. But all the time, he and his companions face the constant threat of attack from the Vikings, merciless invaders from the east.

After a series of strange calls to the phone box, Millie finally works out the code to take Timmy back home, but his departure is overshadowed by tragedy. And when he and Sammy surge forward to their own time, an uninvited stowaway travels with them...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Francis
• Release date: Nov 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781739984014

Book preview

TMPBJOAP_eCover_Final.jpg

Copyright © Peter Francis in 2021

Published by Maplefield Publishing

Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-7399840-0-7

eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-7399840-1-4

Printed in the United Kingdom

All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author and/or publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

Cover design and layout by www.spiffingcovers.com

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Author's Note - The Saxon Era

Much of Timmy’s story is set over 1,200 years ago during the early Middle Ages, often known as the Dark Ages as little historical record remains from that time. Back then, the country we now know as England was occupied by the Anglo Saxons.

In the eighth century, the country was divided into regions, or kingdoms, two of which feature in our story: Wessex and Mercia. It’s unlikely that these two kingdoms would have been merged under one ruler at the time, although all the kingdoms did eventually unite to quell the threat of the Vikings. However, for the purpose of our story, eighth-century Wessex and Mercia had one King, and he was…

Ah, no spoilers! You’ll meet him soon enough, and his sister. Which brings me on to another point.

It’s highly unlikely that a girl in the Saxon period would have been seen out hunting, exploring and fighting alongside the men and the boys. But that’s no fun, is it? Don’t worry, the bright and courageous Millie of our story is certainly not about to get left behind and miss out on the adventures.

Although the historical elements of this story are based in fact, please don’t take them as factual. All the characters, as well as the settlements of Fingle in Wessex and Hoxford in Mercia, are figments of my imagination, set against a backdrop of ancient times. The Anglo Saxon is a fascinating era, though, running from the fifth century, when the Romans abandoned Britannia as an outpost of negligible value, to the eleventh century, when Harold, the ruler of the merged kingdoms, was defeated in battle by William the Conqueror and the Norman era began.

One

It was Sammy who noticed it first, his wet, shiny nose sniffing around. He cocked his leg with total disdain and peed against the cast-iron red structure.

Timmy, already bored with unpacking all his clothes, games, footballs and electronic devices, hadn’t been able to wait any longer to explore the large plot that surrounded the family’s new home. When his mother had first informed him about their plans to relocate to a bigger property, he hadn’t been keen at all. But negativity quickly changed to delight when she showed him pictures of the lofty trees in his soon-to-be garden. Then he could hardly wait for the move date to come around.

Like many children his age, he loved to climb. After a close inspection of all the trees, both short and tall, old and young, he finally singled out a silvery-white birch with sturdy forked branches that looked easier to climb than the others. Perfect for his plan to build a tree house – with a little help from his father. His aim was to create a den where he and his pals could hang out which would be off limits to both his parents and older sister, Tina. Once, Tina would have been welcome, but her priorities had recently changed from playing and exploring with her brother to loud music, smart clothes, constant social media posts and endless shades of lipstick.

Amongst the diverse heavy trees and prickly bushes, random pockets of brightly coloured flowers were dotted here and there. Then Timmy’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Sitting in the middle of all the greenery and flowers was something that had never been born from Nature: an old red telephone box.

Who plonked that there? Timmy said to himself.

The box looked to have been in position for quite some time. Two of its lower glass panels were wet, indicating Sammy had already carried out his own inspection. Timmy tugged on the door’s brass handle; it was heavy, so it took quite a bit of effort before it finally swung open.

Inside was a real phone with two coin slots. Below were three thick, dusty books that looked to be in fair condition. Above the telephone was a public information notice, instructing users on what to do in the case of an emergency, and beside that was a mirror. Timmy had passed similar telephone boxes on several occasions as he rode his bike back and forth to school, never giving them a second glance. After all, who needed a public telephone when everyone had their own mobile?

Flicking through the old books beneath the telephone, he found they contained a list of surnames in alphabetical order, including an address and telephone number for each entry. Wondering if everyone in Essex was listed, he searched for his own family name, Buffet, and found they were quite numerous.

Soon becoming bored with looking through endless names and numbers, he stood on tiptoes and examined his reflection in the mirror, poking his tongue out and pulling silly distorted faces. He then picked up the phone’s receiver and spoke in his best deep adult voice.

Hello?

The sound of a dialling tone took him by surprise. Could this old abandoned phone box really be used to make calls?

Outside, he heard his mother shout his name, so he placed the receiver down and ran back to the house. In the time he’d been exploring the garden, his mother, sister and father had managed to make their new home remarkably neat and tidy. Tables, chairs and sofas were in position. The beds were freshly made. His mother had even found a cupboard to store his old toys and games. At the age of ten, he’d outgrown many of the childhood games which had once kept him occupied, but he was unwilling to part with them just yet.

Timmy’s father was preparing the evening meal while his sister and mother finished off the correct placement of ornaments, photo frames and pictures. Then the family took their seats at the dinner table, ready to eat their first meal in their new home. Sammy, a handsome Parson terrier, sat staring at Timmy, confident a scrap of food would accidentally on purpose fall in his direction.

As always, the family chatted companionably as they ate.

Well, son, said Timmy’s dad, did you get a good enough look at the garden?

Dad, it’s so cool, I’ve already chosen a huge silver birch for us to build the tree house in. And guess what, Mum? Timmy turned to face his mother, wanting to include her in the conversation. There’s an old phone box in the garden, and it sounds like it actually works, too.

Before his mother could reply, Tina butted in. There he goes again, Mum, talking nonsense like he always does.

Timmy’s mother then responded for herself. We know about that phone box, Timmy, it’s been there for several years, so I’m sure it’s no longer connected to the telephone network. So please don’t tell fibs.

I’m not fibbing! It’s got a dialling tone, honest… Glancing across the table for support, Timmy continued, Dad, go on, tell them I’m not lying.

His father placed his knife and fork on his near empty plate. Son, your mother is right. Mr and Mrs Cooper who sold us the house mentioned the phone box and said it was for decorative purposes only. Apparently, it’s never been connected to the national telephone network, so how could it possibly have a dialling tone? Mr Cooper worked as a telephone engineer before he retired, so he bought the phone box as a pleasant reminder of his younger years.

Well, I’m sure I heard a dialling tone…

Yeah, in your crazy imagination. His sister sniggered. "Or perhaps it’s a magic phone box."

As usual, his sceptical sister had the final word.

When bedtime came, Timmy crept beneath his duvet with a torch. Trying to read a few chapters of a library book he’d withdrawn from the astronomy section, he was unable to get comfortable or concentrate. His thoughts kept wandering off to focus on the mysterious phone box.

For a short while, he doubted himself. Perhaps my parents are right; maybe I imagined the dialling tone.

No, I definitely heard it, he whispered. "The phone does work, and tomorrow I’ll prove it. Gently, he stroked his dog lying beside him. You believe me, don’t you, Sammy?"

The pair eventually settled and fell fast asleep. Moving their entire belongings from one property to another had been an exciting but tiring day for the whole family, even for the youngest, smallest and most energetic member.

I’ll have honey on my porridge, Mum, not sugar, and a slice of toast, please.

As his mother prepared the morning meal for the rest of the family, Timmy washed his food down with two cups of milky tea. Reinvigorated by his sleep and sustenance, he then decided to go and investigate the red phone box again.

Approximately half the size of a standard football pitch, the garden looked huge by comparison to those he’d seen at his friends’ houses. With the tall mature trees taking up almost half the plot, it resembled a small section of woodland. Rain had fallen heavily during the night, so before venturing into the garden, Timmy pulled on his green wellington boots. Not minding the soggy conditions, Sammy followed him outdoors. A frisky terrier with boundless energy, he relished playing outside whatever the weather.

Finding it slightly easier to prise open the door this time, Timmy entered the phone box. His dog weaved his body around his young master’s legs to join him inside, sniffing the four corners of the floor inquisitively. Hesitating briefly, Timmy then positioned the phone’s receiver close to his lips; he didn’t know why, but he felt a little apprehensive.

Softly, he spoke into the mouthpiece. Hello? There wasn’t a response, but there was an audible dialling tone. I knew it! I was right. Timmy wondered whether to dial a number. If he were to insert the correct amount of money into the slots, would it actually function as a real telephone should? Before breakfast, he’d emptied some small change from his Cola bottle-shaped piggy bank into his fist and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. He’d never needed to use a public phone box before, but felt confident it must be a simple enough procedure.

He took a shiny silver coin from his pocket to insert into one of the two available slots. Now, what number shall I dial? Sammy already appeared bored and was pushing at the door with his front paws to indicate he wanted to be freed from the small space. Ignoring his pet, Timmy began to dial.

First, he pushed the button marked seven, his favourite number, followed by eight, and then nine. As his index finger fell away from the final digit, the door on the phone box slammed shut. Immediately, Timmy dropped the receiver and frantically tried to force it back open. He pushed hard with both hands and then his shoulder, but the door wouldn’t budge. It was stuck fast. Boy and dog were trapped.

Beating hard on the tough glass of the windows with his clenched fists, Timmy yelled, Hey, let me out of here. Help! Help! Mum, I can’t get out.

The phone box rapidly filled with grey smoke. In no time at all, the once clear air inside became completely transformed into smog. Yet despite the swirl all around him, Timmy was still able to breathe quite normally.

Feeling even more desperate to free himself, he continued to shout as loudly as he possibly could.

Mum! Help me, get me out of here!

The fog thickened its intensity; soon, it became impossible to see any daylight through the transparent rectangular panels. When he looked down, Timmy couldn’t even see his dog. It was by touch alone he knew Sammy was still there. Overcome by panic, his body trembling, he crouched down, grabbed Sammy in his arms and held him tightly.

Without any warning, the uninvited vapour started to withdraw and disperse. It felt longer, but barely seconds passed before the sun’s rays glistened again through the departing fog which had been smothering them both. Then, as though nothing had happened, the air inside the phone box returned to crystal clear. Once again, Timmy could see his reflection in the small mirror by the phone.

Sammy stared at Timmy with a bewildered look on his face, the same expression he displayed when visiting the local vet. Still clutching his pet to his chest, Timmy pushed hard with his shoulder against the door. Unexpectedly, it popped open. He stepped out.

The house and the tall trees of its garden had completely disappeared from view. Sammy leapt from his arms as Timmy continued to scan the unfamiliar scene before him.

What’s happened? he said quietly. And where’s my house gone?

An expanse of open fields stretched out for miles in all directions. The family’s new home and large garden were nowhere to be seen. Looking skywards, Timmy felt mild relief to see familiar shaped clouds floating overhead. Beneath his feet, the damp grass was long and straw-like.

Far off in the distance, he spotted the silhouette of a building, possibly a house or large shed. It was hard to tell precisely what the structure might be. Unable to think clearly, his mind flooded with questions about what had just happened, he tried to collect his thoughts.

One minute I was playing in my garden, and the next I’m here! How is that even possible? Where am I?

Two

For a moment, Timmy lost sight of his terrier as Sammy bounced in and out of the long blades of grass.

Sammy? he shouted. The dog bounded back to his master, seemingly unconcerned they’d both stepped from the phone box into a remote and unfamiliar location. Still dazed, Timmy tried to imagine how his mother and father would handle the situation.

OK, I know Mum and Dad would remain calm and definitely wouldn’t panic, he told himself. If I’m going to survive this ordeal, I must try to do the same. But how can I? My house and everything surrounding it has totally vanished into thin air. Concentrating his thoughts for a moment, he concluded, I must be experiencing a kind of incredible dream. That’s it, I’m having a nightmare!

Standing perfectly still, he closed his eyes tightly for a full ten seconds and crossed his fingers, hoping that when he raised his eyelids again, he’d be safely tucked in his bed. However, when he opened his eyes slowly it was to discover both his feet were still firmly planted in his wellingtons, and they were standing in the middle of nowhere.

His heart sank. He was definitely not at home and the bizarre incident was not a dream. His original surroundings had been replaced by what appeared to be overgrown fields. No garden with large trees to climb; no new family home; no sign of his parents. Despite their rivalry, his annoying sister would even have been a welcome sight to Timmy right now.

More scared, confused and alone than he’d ever felt in his entire ten years, he paced backwards and forwards for a while, trying to come to terms with his odd predicament. With nothing better to do, he then walked in circles around the phone box.

Why has this happened to me? And what precisely should I do next?

Walking in circles wasn’t helping, so he opened the phone box door and held it so Sammy could join him inside. With a quivering hand,