The Temple Scroll

by D C Macey

  ‘Well, let’s break it open,’ said Simon, raising his shovel.

  ‘No wait,’ said Sam, he produced his mobile phone to take pictures. ‘Once this is broken it will be lost forever.’

  Simon lowered his shovel and waited. He raised it again as Sam put his phone away.

  ‘Wait,’ said Helen. ‘My turn, please. Whatever else we think or expect from this place it was made and sealed by men of God. From what I understand, men who mostly went on to die to preserve its secret. I want to say a prayer for them and all those who have suffered through this, whatever it is.’

  Simon rested his spade again and gave a little nod, lowering his head. Sam found himself rising to his feet; together with Nick, he bowed his head as Helen said a short prayer for all those who had suffered over the years for whatever lay within. Then in a silent minute, they thought about those they knew who had died, hoping this would be an end to it.

  ‘Right,’ said Helen. ‘Get to it; let’s see what it’s all been for. Nothing can be worth the suffering, but let’s hope there is something.’

  Simon wielded the shovel, bringing it down hard on to the mosaic patch. Time and again, it crashed down, nothing.

  ‘This stuff is hard as the stone it sits in,’ said Simon in frustration.

  ‘Wait, I’ve got an idea,’ said Sam. He rummaged in his rucksack and produced a little steel pry bar. Holding it close to the edge of the mosaic, he pointed towards a large rock that sat at the far end of the ledge. ‘Get that and use it as a hammer to hit this. We’ll drive it in; make a narrow hole then work it wider.’

  After just a few blows, Sam could feel the bar begin to penetrate. A few more and they could see progress and then, suddenly, they were through the surface layer and chipping into a solid slab of mortar. Sam shifted the angle of the bar so each successive blow of their rock hammer forced it under more of the exposed mortar. The mosaic started to come away in bits, then great chunks. Helen knelt to sweep away the debris as Simon continued to beat down on the bar.

  They eventually cleared the mosaic and its mortar base to reveal a further layer of stone slabs beneath. Neatly arrayed, tight fitting, six of them; they had formed a foundation below the mosaic. This was the product of a master craftsman’s work.

  Sam tried to work the pry bar under one of the stone slabs but after a few moments he stopped; the gap was just too narrow, each of the stones sat flush one to the next. He examined the edges where the stones fitted neatly into the bedrock. Finally, he found what he was looking for. At one end, there was a little notch, cut into the bedrock.

  He worked away with his fingers, clearing out sand that a long dead hand had compacted into the notch. Finally, he got it cleared, revealing a slot, just wide enough to take a chisel, or a pry bar. He slotted the bar into the notch and glanced around the group. ‘Well, this is it, the moment of truth.’

  Helen touched her hand against his shoulder. ‘Go for it, Sam.’

  Sam pressed on the bar, trying to lever the slab of rock up. Nothing happened. He pressed again. ‘It’s solid,’ he gasped between presses.

  Simon knelt beside him. They leant their combined weights on the little bar and after a moment felt the slightest of give.

  ‘It’s coming,’ said Simon, redoubling his effort, ‘it’s coming now.’

  The slab shifted a fraction. Then with a grating noise, it was prised up and a little apart from its neighbour. Helen forced the trowel into the gap allowing Sam and Simon to ease back on the pry bar and then Nick scrabbled with the shovel to lever the stone further up. It was quickly clear that the stones had been cut with perfect precision. Each was little more than half an inch thick - very heavy, but manageable. The remaining slabs offered little resistance and were quickly stacked to one side.

  Everyone paused, still and silent, momentarily awestruck by the realisation that Sam’s interpretation of the signs had become real - there, sunk into the ledge was a tunnel mouth, a place not passed by a soul in seven hundred years.

  Sam fitted his head torch in place, switched it on and then Simon and Nick took tight hold of his waistband as he slid headfirst into the hole.

  Looking down into the gap between Sam’s body and the edge of the tunnel’s mouth, Helen could just make out the torch beam as it flicked to and fro. ‘What do you see?’ she called down.

  His slightly distorted response came up to them from the cave mouth. ‘It’s a shallow natural cave that the Templars concealed. It slides away at about a forty-five degree angle for about a metre and then it drops down into a tunnel, which looks manmade. It’s all dry, looks safe enough. Pull me up now.’

  At once, Simon and Nick heaved on Sam’s waistband and extracted him. Sitting on the ledge Sam looked at Helen. ‘This has to be it. No doubt, we’ve found the entrance. But it might be dangerous, are you sure you want to go in?’

  ‘Just try stopping me, mister,’ said Helen.

  Sam grinned. ‘That’s what I thought. Look, let’s take a break and eat our lunch here. Then we can see what history has set aside for us.’ Sam could not quite hide the excitement in his voice but he wanted a little time to reconcile what was going to happen next. This was an archaeologist’s dream, his Howard Carter moment, and he was about to consciously blunder in without any thought for the evidence that might be lost in the process.

  ‘Okay, that sounds like a plan,’ said Helen.

  ‘But we should not wait too long,’ said Simon. ‘I know we are ahead right now but the guys you are up against, they move pretty quickly.’

  Sam agreed as he handed out rolls, tomatoes and slices of cheese. They all ate, suddenly discovering they were very hungry.

  ‘I don’t understand how the Templars would have had time to dig a tunnel through this cliff face if they were just slipping in here and away without being noticed. They would have had to be here for ages. How did they manage it?’ said Helen.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure they did,’ said Sam.

  Helen looked at him quizzically. ‘Yes they did; you’ve just been headfirst down their tunnel.’

  ‘Not quite. There are several places around this island that were mined way back into antiquity. One or two have been proposed as the real source of the Minotaur’s labyrinth myth. These cliffs may have been mined out long before the Templars arrived, perhaps a thousand years earlier, more even. What we’ve just dug through was a natural opening; maybe ancient miners just broke through from the other side and moved on. The Templars were known for their inquisitive approach. It may even be that some of their order found this place long before they used it - we’ll never know. But they certainly found it somehow.’

  ‘So they didn’t need to dig the tunnels at all?’

  ‘Probably not. We’ll see when we get in, but I would think the heavy work was done long before their time. I think they could have easily slipped in and out unseen. And if they had to leave a few people inside to work the stone for a little while, and come back for them later, that would be straightforward enough.’

  Once they had finished eating Sam issued each of them with a head torch and spare batteries. ‘Everyone ready?’ The question was met by a round of nods. ‘Great, everyone be careful. Remember, there’s no backup team; we’re on our own. I’m going to lead and Simon’s done a bit of caving, so he’ll bring up the rear. You two, stick close and watch your footing, don’t take any risks, and watch your heads too.’ Helen watched Sam’s eyes as his gaze shifted from Nick to her. She smiled at him and from across the ledge mouthed the slightest of kisses; he reciprocated. It was time to go.

  Then, as she watched Sam, a surprised look crossed her face. ‘Heaven’s sake, Sam. What’s that for? What else have you got in that rucksack?’ she said, as Sam produced a rope and a spool of fishing line.

  ‘Well, there’s a big lantern torch and a first aid kit and I’m afraid that’s about it now,’ he said. Freeing one end of the fishing line, he fastened it to the base of a stunted and gnarled old tree that clung on beside the ledge; he hand
ed the spool to Simon.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Helen. ‘Theseus and Ariadne’s thread. You’re actually taking a leaf out of the Minotaur story. Very smart.’

  ‘Well, I am an archaeologist. That’s what history and legends are for; to learn from,’ said Sam as he secured the short rope to the tree and tested the weight with a pull.

  ‘All right,’ said Helen with a laugh. ‘I said you were smart, don’t get smug.’

  ‘Right, everyone, the fishing line is your backup. If we get separated just follow it and it’ll lead you back here. Now, let’s go.’ He sat on the lip, swung his legs into the hole and lowered the short rope into the black. He switched on his head torch and, gripping the rope tightly, slipped off the lip and into the hole. He slid easily down the short forty-five degree incline of the natural cave, controlling the speed of his descent by gripping the rope and allowing it to feed slowly through his fingers. Suddenly he felt his legs dangle free as they entered into the tunnel below and then he dropped with a gentle thud, his feet were on the tunnel floor.

  Helen saw the beam of Sam’s torch cutting the darkness and immediately followed him, Nick and Simon behind her.

  Once everyone was in, Sam swung his rucksack off his back and delved inside; producing the gold framed glass, he handed it to Helen, ‘I’m leading, but you’re navigating. I’m quite certain there is no sense of scale to this thing, so count the turnings carefully as we pass them, and compare that to the turnings that are shown on the image beneath the glass. We only deviate left or right when the gold thread does.

  Helen understood exactly what was expected of her.

  • • •

  Cassiter pulled himself up on to the ledge. Two of Parsol’s men were already there peering down into the black hole. They looked for guidance and Cassiter raised a hand, indicating they should wait. They were closing in at last but it was for Parsol to give the order and, with the assistance of two more of his men, the older man was still making his way up to the ledge.

  Joining the men at the mouth of the hole, Cassiter looked down, considered the rope and traced it back to the tree. He tugged on it and was satisfied it was secure. Just as he turned to acknowledge Parsol’s arrival, something caught his eye. Bending down, close to the tree trunk he reached out and stroked it. He smiled to himself, hooking his finger under the fishing line, tweaking it gently then letting it go. He stood, greeted Parsol and then waved down towards the fishing line. ‘Sometimes life just gets too easy,’ he said. ‘They’ve very kindly left us a little trail to follow. We’ll be on them in no time.’

  CHAPTER 32 - TUESDAY 10th SEPTEMBER - AFTERNOON

  Helen could see the beam of Sam’s head torch flicking from left to right and up and down as he cautiously led the way. Though she did not pay too much attention to the environment they were in, she was aware that the tunnel walls were rough-hewn and the floor even, with the roof proving to be of a good height. She just focused on counting turnings and keeping to the route marked by the golden thread as it wove its way across the glass. It seemed to be working.

  She was not sure how long they had been walking but by tracing their progress along the gold thread, she had worked out there were now only two more turnings before they reached the ruby. She had just passed on the information when Nick cried out, stopping them with his anxious exclamation.

  Simon closed up on Nick, ‘What’s up man?’ he said. There was a silence as Simon followed the moving beam of Nick’s head torch to where it came to rest on the tunnel roof. ‘Holy mother of God! What is that?’

  It was the first time she had heard Simon use anything other than professional language and it brought her up with a jolt. She strained to see what had caused the concern. Sam joined her and all four torch beams shone on the same spot.

  Helen could see the shape fixed to the wall just at roof height, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. ‘What is it Sam?’

  She heard his gentle whistle. ‘Not good. Not good at all.’

  ‘Not good.’ parroted Simon. ‘Not good? It’s a death trap, that’s what it is.’

  She could tell Sam was nodding agreement as the beam of his torch bobbed on the wall before turning back to the object. ‘It’s an explosive device,’ said Sam. ‘Not the first thing we’d expect to find here.’ He moved closer to get a better look.

  ‘Be careful,’ said Helen.

  ‘It’s okay, we’re all too close anyway; if this goes off we’re all done for.’

  Nick’s torch beam turned from the explosive to Sam, highlighting his face. ‘Who put it there?’ he said.

  Sam raised a hand to shield his eyes from the torch beam. ‘Them, not it. See the wiring? It runs here from ahead of us, links to this explosive and continues down that side tunnel. This must be part of a much bigger multiple charge.’

  ‘What’s going on Sam? Have they got here ahead of us? Is it a trap?’ said Helen.

  ‘No. Well, it may be a trap, but not for us.’ He got closer to the explosives, stood on tiptoe and peered intently at the bomb. ‘I think these are German. Second World War stuff.’

  ‘What?’ said Helen. ‘That’s ridiculous. What are they doing here?’

  ‘Unfortunately, not so ridiculous. The Germans are known to have used tunnel complexes on the island as ammunition dumps. When they pulled out, the idea was to destroy the dumps. For some reason this was not set off. I suspect we are probably making our way into just such a dump.’

  ‘Is it safe?’ said Nick.

  Sam gave a laugh. ‘If you’re going to light a cigar, be careful where you throw the match, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we get back, think about a different approach?’ said Simon.

  ‘That would be the sensible thing to do. But you know what, I think if we go out now the sensible thing would be never to come back in. You’re right to be worried. I’d say calling this place a death trap is just about right. I certainly wouldn’t want to let Helen back in.’

  ‘Let Helen back in? Sam Cameron, you don’t let me do anything. We’re a team. Look, it’s only two more turns to where the ruby sits on the plan. Let’s push on; it will only take a few minutes. And I promise not to light a cigar, if that makes you feel any safer.’

  Helen heard Simon’s throaty laugh. ‘Well that’s you told, Sam. I guess we’re pushing on, regardless.’

  Sam looked again at the aged explosives, still held in the torch beams, and shrugged. ‘Okay, but everyone be very careful. Old stuff like that can be very unstable and I like to think we’ve come far enough to warrant a safe passage home. Come on.’ He resumed his spot at the head of the column. ‘Let’s push on if we’re going to.’

  Two quick turns and they were there. ‘This is it,’ said Helen. Her voice echoed back, and they realised they had entered into a wider space - a cavern. Here their personal headlamps were just little beams cutting forlornly through the black.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Sam. He dug into the bottom of his rucksack and pulled out his torch lantern. ‘This’ll do the trick,’ he said and, placing it on the ground, he flicked it on. The cavern burst into being under the flood of white light.

  ‘That’s our Sam,’ said Helen. ‘Always plans ahead, always gets it right - well, mostly anyway.’

  They looked around the space. The roof had risen to over three metres in height. The chamber was around ten metres long and five wide. At the far end, the cavern tapered down into the mouth of a tunnel similar to that from which they had just emerged. The floor, the walls, the roof, all dark shadowy stone and all bone dry. Rough-hewn, but definitely hewn - chisel and pick marks scored every surface, no drill marks, this was a manmade feature and very old.

  As the others took in the environment, Helen noted that Sam was busy tracing the German wires that continued their run; pinned to the roof, they ran the length of the chamber and disappeared directly into the tunnel ahead. Sam asked them all to check the cavern for Templar signs while he went on to see if there were any explosives further ahead.
Taking the fishing spool from Simon he set off, laying a trail behind him.

  After twenty minutes had passed, they were beginning to worry. Then, just as Simon was readying himself to go in pursuit, they spotted a distant headlamp in the tunnel, bobbing towards them. On a couple of occasions, it paused, shone up, shone down then continued its approach. Finally, Sam emerged from the tunnel, wiping his hands and tucking his pocketknife into the leg pocket of his cargo pants.

  ‘I’ve been about six hundred metres up the tunnel. There are more charges spread along it and up some of the side chambers. I’m guessing there will be even more that I didn’t see.’

  ‘But we haven’t seen any stored ammunition,’ said Helen.

  ‘No, the store could be anywhere, further ahead, in one of the side tunnels, maybe the munitions were actually taken out and somebody missed these explosives when, if, they even bothered to make it safe. I don’t know. I’ve cut all the ignition cables I could find so, touch wood, there should be no problems. I’ve done what I can to make it safe but everyone just be very careful.’

  Helen looked at the gold framed glass. ‘You know, if you think about the explosives, it ties in exactly with your idea that there is another access route. The gold thread continues beyond the ruby. That probably marks the route the Germans would have used.’

  ‘I agree. That seems the most obvious answer. But here we are at the ruby point. Our X marks the spot. So I wonder where it is. What did you all find while I was away?’

  ‘The Germans have obviously been in this chamber. Could they have found the treasure? Has it already gone?’ said Helen.

  Sam shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. All the way along, nothing in this business has been obvious to the uninformed. I think whatever our Templars placed here was hidden. They must have recognised there was a slight risk of somebody stumbling upon the chamber and planned accordingly. I’m pretty certain of it. We just need to look carefully.’