The Curse of Becton Manor

by Patricia Ayling

  Almost like a miracle, immediately after the echo, the menacing Latin ceased and there was an uncanny calm.

  I aimed the torch ahead but then I stopped, sharp. The beam of light revealed a dark shape hovering. The priest. I understood how the ancient gladiators felt when they entered the arena.

  George’s description of a poltergeist came to mind: ‘A supernatural being supposedly responsible for physical disturbances such as loud noises and objects being moved around, even levitation. They can punch and kick and really hurt someone, if they want to, I’ve read it somewhere…’

  I had hated the racket in the tunnel, now I hated the silence. I crouched stiffly. So still, like a timid rabbit. Petrified. Then, slowly crawling towards the large chamber, I prepared myself to come face to face with the priest. The bombardment of dust and grit had blurred my vision, my eyes felt painfully sore. A muffled shout. It was repeated. There was a shaft of light ahead.

  ‘Tom…why don’t you answer us?’

  Oh God, thank the Lord. It was George.

  ‘Help me out of here. Quick!’

  He and Annabel pulled me out of the tunnel and helped me climb the steps.

  It was only when we got to the kitchen that I started shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘Take some deep breaths, Tom. I know what it is: it’s shock.’

  At least that made me chuckle. ‘I know, you read it somewhere.’

  ‘Yeah…I did some first aid when Mum took me to the boy scouts. Everybody should learn it, but I wouldn’t want to find anybody not breathing, ’cos you have to seal your mouth on theirs and keep blowing. Ugh, didn’t like the sound o’ that.’

  ‘For a change, George, your babbling is making me feel better. Ha!’

  Annabel got warm water and put some salt in it for my knee wounds. The trousers were rags, I had crawled that quickly.

  When the shivering had stopped, I told them all about it.

  ‘Two skulls, you say?’ queried George. ‘But they may not be of Tudor origin you know. How can you be sure they’re not the bones of Victorian children, or even earlier this century?’

  ‘Yeah, I had thought about that, but ask yourself, why would Victorian children whisper in Latin? Those are the bones of the children wanting to be let out. They wanted to escape and they were either deliberately buried there, or hidden there and no-one let them out. There was shouting, in Latin, Libera Nos, then the sancta pater bit, meaning ”Free us, Holy Father”.’

  It’s the spirits of those children and the priest was trying to get them out, Tom.’

  Annabel offered her thoughts. ‘Or maybe he imprisoned them down in the tunnel in the first place.’

  ‘Well, whatever…but you do have to report the bones, Tom, otherwise you are breaking the law… I’ve...’

  ‘I know: you’ve read it somewhere.’

  At last he laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  June 23rd 1958

  Mum and Gran came home that evening about five pm.

  I kept wincing with the sore knees, elbows and red eyes. I found some clean trousers and sweater to wear and hoped I looked okay. It didn’t work.

  ‘Tom, what happened to your eyes?’

  ‘Just dust, Mum. They’ll be better in the morning when I‘ve slept. Don’t fuss.’

  She didn’t keep on.

  ‘How’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s so much better. His memory is improving all the time and he seems more with it. He said tonight he was worried about the young lady and when I asked what young lady, he answered, “The one I hit, Alice. She ran in front of the car. Really long haired woman. Did I kill her?”’

  ‘We were amazed. But poor man, worrying himself about a woman who didn’t even exist. We tried to explain he simply hit a tree because of the storm and missing the bend. Didn’t like to say he was drunk.’

  ‘Did he settle down?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘I think so. Difficult to tell. He badly wants to come home, but his mind is still a bit confused. Was a bit worried though about this young woman, but if there had really been one, surely the police would have found a body. No…he was just hallucinating.’

  The really long hair bit made me think. It might well have been the same woman I saw above the flames on Bonfire night, but no way was I going to start something else, so I changed the subject. ‘And what about the antique place, the evaluation?’

  ‘Ooh, now that was interesting.’

  Gran was lifting the box from her bag. We were all ears. ‘Look’ she demanded, ‘This is how it opens; a small sliding compartment underneath shows a hidden catch. Hey presto. The antique dealer had seen something similar so knew what to do.’

  We bent over the open box. Gran and Mum were smiling, in fact they were ecstatic. Gran’s eyebrows were arched into her forehead as she asked, ‘Enough for a good Christmas?’

  Inside the box was dozens of coins, gold and silver among lots of tiny threads and fragments of cloth. Below these, it seemed, was a pile of dusty particles. Very puzzling. Below that were thin papers, but rolled up tightly.

  Gran continued, ‘The antique dealer had to wear gloves before carefully unrolling what she called parchments. The writing was tiny.’

  Gran gave us a piece of paper. ‘These are the words, in English too. They had a piece of equipment there which magnified the writing, making it easier to decipher. Read it Tom. Read it out loud.’

  I took the paper from her and squinted as I read:

  ‘I declare this chest is the sole property of Kathleen Melton and this is a true accounte of my work and sole duties as the healing woman for the Earl of Becton and his family. I have been a trusted servant for the last twelve years and to the villagers of Becton. I feel I have to defend my faith in my work as one man doth accuse me of ill doing.

  ‘My heart doth ache with Mary’s death. I do with honesty suspectt ceruse may be of a poisonous nature over time, but this was not known to me. Ye feverfew & lavender – 2-4 drops was of little use. Purging & vinegar-solution – 4-5 drank with Ague & sourapples & berries & warm clarysage was of no benefit. Father Robert is partisan to my beliefs. It did not pleaseth me that this harmed Lady Mary. I cannot deny my duty failed, but of no foul intent to harm.

  ‘Ye Earl was poisoned by belladonna, plentiful in ye hedgerow. I could not save him.

  ‘I fear my medicines will be my doom, my sin. This may have been a folly that Master Edward Griffin has indeed, upon my word, accused me thereof and to see me hang. It is he who is guilty of administering this poison. I can only pray to ye Holy Father, for those who stand in judgement may believe me.

  ‘I have just done my humble duty. My children are innocent. Father Robert is innocent.’

  Gran said they had told the antique dealer about the treasures found in the house and the notes in the library book. Apparently the expert as Mum referred to her, had her own large books there, all about ‘historical records and such’.

  ‘She was very knowledgeable, Tom. She said Kathleen Melton was the accused witch. She had been afraid, but wanted to state her innocence to whoever found the box. All her medicine samples were once, hundreds of years ago, in that very box. The question she asked, though, was why was the box in the tunnel and filled with money?’

  George now had a question. ‘And what was ceruse and belladonna? I must admit I haven’t read about those anywhere.’

  That sounded very mature for George, admitting that he hadn’t read something, but there were other things yet to discuss. The bones in the tiny chamber and the value of the so called medicine chest.

  ‘So…did this expert give a figure on the worth of this medicine chest of Kathleen Melton?’

  There was a pause, before Mum grinned. ‘Wondered how long it would be before you got round to that. Well…’ she paused again, this time to tease.

  ‘Oh come on Mum, tell us.’

  Yes, tell us!’ yelled Annabel.

  ‘Guess.’

  ‘Oh no…£3,000?’

  ‘Guess a
gain.’

  I grunted. ‘Higher or lower?’

  ‘Higher.’

  Gran was giggling.

  ‘Okay, £4,000?’

  ‘All right, close. Its approximate value is something around £5,000 and the artefacts in the chest found in the kitchen would be about £2,000.’

  ‘Ye Gods!’ ‘Blimey!’ ‘Ooh!’ were our combined responses, all at once.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ I shook my head.

  ‘Gran took photos of all that stuff and had the film developed last week. The antique dealer listed the items, but she said they would need to be seen before proper evaluations could be carried out. Anyway, this is the list:

  ‘Discovered at Becton Manor, of Tudor origin, the following items were discovered in a large metal chest hidden behind a fireplace:

  ‘Wrapped tightly in dark coarse cloth: priest’s vestments and artefacts:

  One long robe of heavy white material, lavishly decorated with gold and silver thread

  One cape, in the colours red, purple and green, elaborately embroidered.

  Two candlesticks,

  One chalice,

  One ciborium,

  One paten,

  Two flagons or cruets, one for the wine, the other for the water,

  One monstrance,

  One sanctuary lamp,

  One tabernacle

  One small plate.

  Three embroidered cloths: a small square one (a pall for the purpose of covering the chalice or the ciborium during Holy Communion).

  The second cloth was long and narrow—an altar cloth

  The third was a rectangular piece of linen, not too big, for purification purposes.

  At the very bottom of the long chest was a magnificent gold-coloured processional cross.

  ‘We were advised not to handle the linens and robes as they will be delicate and thin in places, and to keep a black sheet wrapped tightly around them to exclude the air. In fact, one corner of the white robe was stained very yellow. Gran said it was probably the damp; perhaps that’s why its hiding place was next to the large fireplace in the kitchen.’

  ‘No-one better try and steal any of that stuff,’ Gran declared. ‘Or I’ll chop off their fingers myself.’

  ‘Now that does sound medieval, Gran.’ Annabel grinned, ‘but I have to say, I’ve never heard of those items and wouldn’t have a clue, what they are used for.’

  Of course, George offered some ideas, but floundered.

  ‘Ha! You’ll just have to read it somewhere George, then come back and tell us.’

  ‘Very funny…but the bones?’

  ‘Bones?’ Mum repeated and Gran looked puzzled.

  ‘Err, yes, Mum. My eyes are red because we went in the tunnel—one last time of course—and this time we found an extended bit, which led to a chamber. Well…in this little chamber, were the remains of two children: definitely two small skulls close together, as if hugging each other. Was really weird, especially to think they lived here.’

  ‘Oh Tom.’

  ‘We need to call the police, Alice,’ a worried looking Gran said. ‘The sooner, the better.’

  ‘What, now? At this time of night?’

  ‘Well, I think they may ask why we waited. Even though they must have been there some years, the police don’t know that, do they? There will be investigations.’

  ‘Ugh… imagine being buried alive.’

  ‘But we don’t know if they were actually buried alive.’ I said.

  ‘Tom, can you and George run down to the telephone box and ring the police? The number is on the wall in front of you. Here, take four pennies, you’ll need them for the slot.’

  Gran interrupted, ‘Won’t it be a 999, Alice? The bones could be the result of murder and as I said, nobody really knows how long they have been there. In which case Tom, you don’t need those four pennies, just dial 999 and say you want the police, then tell them what you found.’

  *

  At first, because I was a kid I suppose, the police thought I was joking. They asked all sorts of details and checked them again and again. Another man came on the phone and said he was a sergeant. I had to start the story all over again. I remember thinking what would it have been like if anyone was actually being murdered at that very time. They wouldn’t stand a chance of making it alive by Christmas, with all this questioning. I was rude. ‘Well, are you coming or not, to see these bones?’

  ‘Don’t get cheeky, lad. We have details to take, it’s our job.’

  ‘So when are you coming?’

  ‘Go back home lad and we’ll send two policemen. You say these are ancient remains. Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Never mind, we’ll go back and wait for the policeman, thank you…very much.’

  I put the receiver down and shook my head. ‘That was a palaver, George.’

  *

  It was way gone midnight when we heard the police car pull up. We all stayed up. It was pretty useless really, because the men just took more notes and decided they needed to come back when it was daylight, seeing as the bones were in a tunnel.

  I told them to come back with someone small as a big person wouldn’t get through the shaft. They at least left with the impression we didn’t look like murderers. They did a lot of looking around however and asked us not to go out anywhere…as if.

  Chapter Thirty

  June 23rd 1598

  Father Peters sighed with relief to finally arrive at the stables. Dawn would be upon them soon, but he could hear a rumpus from within the house. Jack and Ruth were still in the wagon.

  He kept out of sight but peered through the bushes next to the stables and listened. He could hear the raucous shouting of lots of men amid loud bangs and the cracking of wood. Searchers. Griffin must have claimed that a priest was in hiding at the manor house. The scoundrel wanted no stone unturned; the man was obsessed with the devil.

  He badly wanted to speak with Frances to tell her of his plan, but could not venture to the house.

  He would need to stay hidden, but he woke the children and ushered them into the chapel, his finger on tightly sealed lips.

  The secret chapel was a tiny room, about twelve feet by nine feet. It was carefully concealed behind the far wall of the stables, the wall being adorned with rope, saddles, bits, garden tools and old cloths.

  The entry door was hidden behind one of the saddles and several cloths, and designed to blend in with the wall. It was well disguised. Father Peters knew exactly where the hinges were. Nothing had to be removed in order to open it. Once they were safely inside the chapel, he heaved the altar to one side.

  He removed the large carpet. Underneath was a trapdoor with a big metal hook. He took his staff and lifted the heavy slab. Still with his finger to his lips, he gestured to a dazed Jack and Ruth to quickly but quietly go down the steps into the tunnel. He gave the herb box to Jack.

  ‘Look after it well.’ He gave Ruth a lantern, but Jack was anxious.

  ‘Father, what is that noise?’

  ‘Searchers are inside the house, looking for me. Listen carefully…I will come for you. Stay put and stay quiet. If I am not here by tomorrow evening, follow the tunnel. There is a shaft at the far end with struts. Climb it. At the top, turn to your right into a tiny passage. Crawl to where the passage drops. The space is tiny but there is a metal pin near the floor. Slide it and then pull the wooden panel as hard as you can towards you. It’s next to the fireplace in Oliver’s bedroom at the end of the landing. If you can’t open it, go back into the passage. It also leads to the front bedroom, the one Lady Charlotte keeps for guests. There is a metal trapdoor on the floor of the passage. Pull it hard. You will drop down into this bedroom. Frances will know about you. I will tell her when I get inside the house, when the searchers leave. She will look out for you. Do you understand?’

  They nodded, but Jack was eager for news of his mother. The question Father Peters was dreading. />
  ‘There is no time, Jack, to explain it to you. You must go quickly. I will explain it all to you both tomorrow. Make haste, lad.’

  Father Peters hugged them close and kissed them, then closed the trapdoor behind them, replacing the rug and the altar, but he was disturbed by a sudden thud in the near distance. Stopping to listen, he heard footsteps.

  The horses were whinnying. It was still dark, but Father Peters dared not give himself any light. He hastily hid in the darkest corner; whoever it was, they were very near. He stood very still, waiting. For a few minutes, there was no sound. He knew he had closed the door of the chapel behind him, or at least he thought he had. He gingerly came out of the dark shadows. The door was slightly ajar. He had been careless. He started to close it slowly but as it scraped the stone floor he cringed and the door was flung back into his face with an almighty thud. Broad hands grabbed his throat and a deep, gruff voice growled into his left ear.

  ‘So…this is where you heretics conduct your clandestine meetings, is it?’

  Father Peters twisted his body and ducked sharply to free himself from the clutches of Edward Griffin. He tried to reach his staff, but Griffin grabbed his cloak and viciously pulled him close till their noses were almost touching. Griffin’s eyes pierced those of Father Peters.

  ‘Where is my money, you charlatan? You stole from me at the inn, and you have my money chest that was kept in my room at the Hall. I know you are scheming to pin the Lady Mary’s death and that of the earl on me…to ruin me. Why after all would you protect the witch with whom you lived?’

  Father Peters summoned all his spirit to give him new strength to fight this demon, but the journey had exhausted him. Nevertheless, he held his chin high. ‘I do not have your money. Which in any case is the earl’s money, money that you stole from him… And yes, I believe you did poison him. Kathleen was innocent. You are consumed by greed.’