Page 50 of Fair Weather Enemies
She blinked with discomfort and resumed her survey. Meanwhile, Mrs. Morgan caught up with them.
“Is this what ye were searching fer?”
Adam cocked his head. “Perhaps. This is a rise, the stones create a circumference, and they resemble an army. The place seems to fit the riddle nicely. Who constructed it?”
“Don’ know, sir. The ancient ones, I suppose. Druids, maybe, or faerie creatures.”
Aunt Hester laughed. “Faerie creatures seem the likely candidates. This place is nothing short of magical.”
“Indeed,” said Barlow. “A lovelier place I’ve not seen in all of England, though I have visited much of it.”
Jane agreed, but even her wonder could not keep at bay the lure of the puzzle. If this was the prescribed place, then what of the next destination? She retrieved her letter and fixed her gaze upon Adam. “Shall we?”
His hand disappeared into his great coat and reappeared with his letter. “We shall.”
She held her letter open. “On from the midst of the sentinels sally.”
“Forth and forthwith along five o’clock valley,” he added.
She peered up from the paper to again scan the surrounding fells. “It seems clear that the sentinels refer to the army of stone, as both are military terms. However, what is the meaning of five o’clock valley?”
Adam spun in a slow circle with a hand outstretched, chopping it up and down three times as he did so. She smiled.
“Are you casting a spell?”
He glanced sidelong at her. “No. Remember, the casting of spells is your purview. Mine is pulling manure carts.”
“Right. My mistake. Then what, may I ask, were you doing?”
“Counting valleys. And I count three. To which valley does it refer?” He paused. “Mrs. Morgan. Is one of these called Five O’clock Valley?”
Mrs. Morgan pondered a moment. “Can’t say I know the name of any of these, or if they have names at all.”
“Bother. Perhaps one that falls into shadow at five o’clock?”
Aunt Hester shook her head. “Cannot be. The time of sunset changes throughout the year.”
Barlow’s eyes went wide and he punched the air with a finger twice before spinning around with hand outstretched. “A clock! What if the writer perceived the circle as a clock?”
His notion immediately captured Jane. “Of course! If so, then one of these valleys should lie in the direction of five o’clock.”
Barlow peered at the sun and then pointed to the valleys one by one. “If that is west, then one valley lies at nine o’clock…and that one at three o’clock…and that one at more or less…”
“Five o’clock!” Hester cried with a gleeful clap. “Well done, Simon. Well done.”
Barlow stood tall with pride before bowing. “Thank you, Hester. Your approval pleases me more than having solved the riddle.”
She dipped her chin and blushed when he took her hand. The simple gesture overwhelmed Jane with envy. She wanted the same, and she knew from whom. The object of her abrupt and errant thought cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Morgan. What lies down that valley?”
The local woman peered in the five o’clock direction. “The great mount of Helvellyn and the long lake Thirlmere, and naught else but Grasmere until Ambleside.”
“Grasmere and Ambleside? Towns, I presume?”
“The former barely a village, the latter a proper town.”
“I see. And how far is Ambleside?”
