by Gill Jepson
*
The guilty monks met in the twilight, their white robes gleaming like ghastly spectres in the gloom. Their voices raised in heated emotion. They knew they risked discovery if the old man recovered and fell to arguing about their course of action.
“What has happened? He is not yet dead!” demanded Brother Andrew. “We will be undone!”
“Thy potion must be too weak… you fool John, we trusted thee to know what thou shouldst do!” snarled Brother Wilfrid.
“’Tis hard to be exact… worry not, I have set more liquor aside if this failed to end his life,” he assured.
“And how dost thou think we can reach him now? ’Twill be hazardous to poison him more!”
“Calm thyself – thou wilt show the world our intent if thou art so lily livered!” Brother Andrew continued unruffled.
*
His cruelty made him bold and his brothers feared him. He took control and instructed them.
“Wilfrid, ’tis thy task now… thou canst serve the abbot’s breakfast as ye do each day, ’twould be no hardship for thee to season his porridge and wine.”
Wifrid smirked slyly, nodding in malevolent agreement.
*
The following morning the malicious monk concealed a small glass vial beneath his scapular. He went to the abbot’s kitchen to take the gruel to him. As he scooped the porridge into the wooden bowl he uncorked the vial and tipped half the liquid into the mixture. He stirred it carefully and placed a cloth over the bowl to carry it to the old man. Wifrid carried the food to the chamber where the abbot lay. He rested the bowl on top of the cupboard, while he poured wine into a cup, this time emptying the last drops of the potion into it. He mixed both wine and porridge well with sweet honey to mask the bitter taste. The abbot ate and drank heartily after his purging the day before and rested on his bed. The poison soon spread silently through the old man’s system, withering his life force as surely as if he had been bitten by a serpent. He grew pale, his skin growing waxy and grey. He lost his senses, shivering uncontrollably, his whole body wracked with violent convulsions until he lay finally still and at peace.
*
Wilfrid did not betray his guilt, feigning shock and grief when the abbot was proclaimed dead. His salty insincere tears flowed freely down his cheeks, his eyes seeming to sting with deceit. The infirmarian, unsuspecting of foul play, had been unable to provide an antidote and his possets were useless against the toxin. He blamed himself for his lack of skill and care of the old abbot.
*
The murderers were confident that their crime would not be revealed and were sure they had left no clues to incriminate them. The abbey was in mourning and a vigil was held for the abbot in the church. All was secure. The three hung their heads in false sorrow, each one silently acknowledging their part in the poor abbot’s demise.
*
As the quire monks prayed for the soul of abbot Laurence an eerie silence fell upon the church. An inky shadow stained the nave, palled in a midnight shroud. The monks froze and fear struck their hearts as the unnatural darkness surrounded them. A pinpoint of light appeared behind the funeral bier. The strange light grew and glistened. Its incandescence came from within the aumbry in the presbytery. Contained within the cupboard was the chalice, which had held the fatal sacrament. The silver chalice shimmered like a guiding star, summoning the brethren to see its strange ethereal radiance. It proclaimed its innocent part in the murder of a saintly man. A holy vessel tarnished by this evil deed, now transformed into something sacred…
*
Ye evil brothers were terribly disturbed by the strange revelation and after Vespers, slipped silently into the night, never to be seen again, but condemning themselves as surely as if they had confessed. A hue and cry was set up to catch the miscreants, but to no avail. A jury declared these monks were responsible for the death of Abbot Laurens and condemned them to not rest until penance had been done. The superstitious peasants tell tales to this day that their spirits are trapped, unable to leave the abbey precinct until their sin is spent. The chalice became an abbey treasure, as prized as those other sacred objects housed within. Safe in the sacred walls of Furness Abbey for an eternity…
Pray for us ye Blessed Abbot Laurens
CHAPTER 8
BACK HOME AGAIN
“So that is the special treasure which we are tasked with protecting,” concluded James solemnly.
“Well, what are we supposed to do? I don’t know where it is, do you?” asked Rob.
“No, but we will have help to find it I’m sure… the old monk will help us. It disappeared at the time of Henry VIII when he destroyed the abbey” James grinned. “He didn’t do such a good job; it would have made my job much easier had he got rid of it more completely. You have to look in your world and I in mine. It cannot be too difficult.”
“If you say so!” said Rob, unconvinced.
“Well, I think it is time for us to return you to whence you came!” said James standing up straight.
“How do you know it’s time for me to go?”
James grinned from ear to ear and nodded towards the door. A spectral figure hovered, transparent but visible; the monk was indicating that they should return.
Rob shuddered.
“He still creeps me out, however good he is meant to be.”
They returned at a steady rate of knots back to the abbey.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
“In time, in time…” James said soothingly. “We will be reunited, for it is our fate to reveal this treasure.”
They walked in silence towards the tunnel. The light was fading and a solitary hoot of an owl echoed across the empty abbey. With the briefest of goodbyes, they shook hands firmly and Rob disappeared into the darkening mouth of the tunnel. Rob scuttled crab like along the uneven tunnel and emerged at the other end. Here it was dusk too, but he could hear the hum of traffic and could see the streetlights around the edge of the abbey. He was locked in of course, which was a nuisance, but he soon climbed over the railings into the road and began his walk home. He shivered and his mind was flooded with the memories of the last hours. A sudden movement from the trees in Abbot’s Wood startled him and a lustrous black raven flew low, almost clipping his head.
He panicked and began to run. The raven flew above him and cawed as if to warn him. At the end of the road, where it forked, a sleek black car stood, its lights dipped, waiting silently for him to pass, like a lion stalking his prey. Rob glanced at the raven and whispered a silent thank you. He climbed swiftly over the fence and sped down into the field to make good his escape. He ran unseen into the lane and sprinted as fast as he could until he reached home… and safety.
*
As he lay in his bed mulling over the events of the day he began to wonder if he had dreamed the whole episode. He considered the places that such a treasure would be concealed. It could not be in the abbey itself or it would surely have been discovered. Where could it be? Who knew? He toyed with the idea of talking to Nate about it but decided against it. He didn’t want him to think he was completely mad. He would wait until things unfolded a little bit and then tell him. He knew this must have something to do with what his brother and sister were involved in but it seemed clear to him that his task was a different and separate one.
*
True to journalistic form Rob began researching James Ramsden the next morning. He had heard of him but didn’t know much about him. He was fascinated with what he read… the stories of his exploits were easy to find on the Internet and in his mum’s collection of local history books. He had been quite a guy! Apparently, he had overseen the development of Barrow in its early days and had created a large bustling town from nothing. He had never thought of Barrow as an important town – he always thought it was a bit dull and not a place of opportunity. However, it had been in James’ day, some bright spark had coined the phrase, ‘the Chicago of the North’ to describe it. Who would have thought it?
He was amazed to find that he had a mansion up in the woods above the abbey. He had not known that Abbot’s Wood was the estate that James Ramsden enjoyed in his life time as a reward for his service for Furness Railway.
*
He chewed on the end of his pencil and mulled over the things he had read. Maybe it would be a start to have a look around up there. He didn’t expect to find anything but there had to be a reason for his meeting with James, so it made sense to explore where he had lived. He smirked when he thought about the tiny cottage he had been taken to and wondered how long James had had to wait to get his dream house.
*
He drove to the abbey that afternoon and parked at the amphitheatre. Rob walked up the hill and up the steps into the wood. It was fairly deserted apart from a couple of dog walkers. The late summer sun was warm and he was sweating by the time he reached the top. He followed the path towards the site of the house and instinctively kept looking behind him. Nobody was there. A couple of magpies were perched in the trees, but he hardly noticed them. As he neared his target the birds flew swiftly down to the abbey, silently gliding into the sandstone remnants.
*
Rob stopped at the massive sandstone blocks, which surrounded a flat grassy lawn. They were the last surviving relics of what must have been a magnificent building. The blocks were arranged in two lines forming half of the rectangle. A sign explained that then house had been damaged by fire and that it was then demolished by the council, to make a nuclear bunker. Rob raised his eyebrows, wondering who the lucky occupants of the bunker would have been if war had broken out. The sepia picture showing the house made him speculate about who decided it would be a good idea to destroy such a lovely building.
*
He leaned against the stones and thought over the recent events and the warm rays of the diminishing summer sun made him drowsy. He yawned widely and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he found someone standing in front of him, blocking out the sun. He jumped with surprise, it was that strange kid again… the last person he had expected to see.
*
The boy peered at him and grinned.
“Dozing off then were you?” he said.
“What do you think?” retorted Rob, returning the grin.
“Well, come on then, I have to show you something!”
Obediently Rob stood up followed the boy… but stopped almost as soon as he had begun.
The world was spinning and everything blurred reminding him of when you went on a fairground ride. He was disorientated for a second or two and then he steadied again. The momentary relief was soon overcome by a huge wave of panic. The world around him had changed. The stones he leant on were there no longer, or rather, they were but arranged differently… very differently indeed. Before him was an amazing building, built from the very stones he had rested amongst. It looked dilapidated; true – but it was still incredible. A gothic mansion rose from the overgrown and unkempt gardens, still impressive but uncared for. Men were working in the distance and hammering and banging echoed across the garden.
*
“James lived here you know!” Titch said abruptly.
Rob stared at him.
“Really? You know him too?”
“Course I do – I know lots of things that you don’t know yet!” he chuckled, “And I deliver meat up here for the big house. Course that was before the old man died and it all went to rack and ruin… shame it was a lovely house.”
“The old man… James?”
The boy shook his head.
“Nah… Fred his son… only had the one and he never married,”
Rob took a moment to reflect upon this information.
“Ok, so why are we here… Titch?” he winced as he said the name.
“You don’t get it do you? We’re all involved, we have to save the abbey treasure and James is part of it too.”
*
Without further ado Titch scrambled through a hedge and across the remnants of a formal rose garden. It was tangled and overgrown, the roses had turned wild and had become briars, which caught and tugged at their clothes as they pushed their way towards the house. As they neared the door they noticed two builders carrying a ladder into the other end of the house. They crept in and tiptoed into the hallway. The house was empty and the only evidence of recent occupancy was paper strewn across the floor, odd items here and there which looked as though they had been dropped or left behind by someone moving out in a hurry. They skulked along the passage to a huge wooden door with a brass plate and handle. Titch pushed the door ajar and they could hear the two men further along. They crept into the dusty room and next to the window was a battered screen – once an elegant and essential addition to the house – and some tea chests. They scuttled behind the screen and hid quietly. Rob felt quite conspicuous being much taller than the boy, and crouched down as low as he could.
*
The two men came noisily into the room. They laid down their jackets to sit on and took out tins holding their sandwiches and a thermos flask of tea. The younger man was talking to his companion and instead of sitting and wandered around the room.
“Hey Ted, it was quite a house this wasn’t it?” He whistled as if to emphasise his point.
“Aye, it was.”
“They must’ve been rich them as lived ’ere too! All these rooms… and not to mention the garden.”
“Aye, they must,” agreed Ted.
“I’d have like to ’ave seen it… y’know in its heyday! Must’ve been summat posh!”
“Aye, that it was,” Ted nodded.
The young man bent to look in the massive chimney place. As he stood he banged his head on the over mantle. He looked at the considerable shelf and decided it was a better option than sitting on the floor. He managed to find himself a comfortable spot on the low mantle, legs dangling and leaning back against an ornate mirror behind him. He shoved the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth and turned to look at the mirror. He stroked the fancy frame and ran a rough hand along the base. He shouted in surprise as he caught his finger on a small metal catch at the bottom. As he put the grazed finger in his mouth a remarkable thing happened.
*
Behind him the mirror shot upwards revealing a secret room stacked with an amazing array of artefacts. The two boys concealed behind the screen could hardly contain themselves. The same thought flew through both of their minds. What if the treasure was concealed in there?
“Cor Blimey Ted! ’ave a bloomin’ look at this lot!”
The taciturn Ted was even more uncommunicative than usual! His mouth dropped open and he jumped to his feet quickly to see what lay behind the mirror. It was an Aladdin’s cave full of valuable and beautiful objects. Why the items were concealed there was hard to say, but someone had gone to great lengths to safeguard the booty. Silver vases and ornaments glinted in the dim light, carvings and statues created curious shapes in the gloom and on a piece of furniture lay a wad of papers, sprinkled with a layer of dust, undisturbed for years.
*
“Right lad!” said Ted, “we’d best go ’n tell gaffer… they can’t know about all this! Pick yer stuff up and we’ll get movin’.”
The young man opened his mouth to protest but Ted was having none of it. He propelled him from the room and closed the door with a bang.
*
The boys came out of their hiding place and raced to the gaping opening over the fireplace. Titch climbed nimbly onto the shelf and disappeared inside.
“What can you see?” cried Rob.
“Come and see for yourself… hurry up they might be back soon!”
Rob obeyed and found himself amongst a collection of items that looked as though they had come from a museum.
“Do you think the chalice is here?”
“I dunno… just look…we must be meant to find something.”
The boys examined the items closely – hoping that amongst the candelabra and urns there would be
a silver goblet, but to no avail. They found all manner of exciting things, not least a white sailing cap, which must have belonged to someone with maritime interests.
“Hey! Look at this…” Rob’s voice trailed off as he read a long document from on top of the small bureau.
“It says…the last will and testament of…”
“Who? Whose is it?”
“James Ramsden, Knight of the Realm…”
“Aw no…” dismay washed across Titch’s face.
“Well, it doesn’t say anything about the treasure from what I can see.”
He rustled the other papers and as he dismissed each one in turn, he discarded them onto the floor beside the bureau.
Suddenly, he froze. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as he read the front of a yellowed envelope, stamped with the distinctive crest of a Rams head… for Ramsden.
The name on the front was his, written in Victorian schoolboy copperplate handwriting.
*
Before he could open it a noise drifted in from the gardens. The men with “the gaffer” were on their way back. The boys jumped down from the mantle and ran to the door they had come through. Just in time they escaped into the hall and out of the door to the gardens. They ran and ran until they were hidden by the trees and bushes. Sweating, red-faced, scratched and torn they sank onto the long grass and caught their breath.
*
Rob was still clutching the envelope and he gazed at it incredulously.
“Well open it then!”
“Give us a minute…”
He carefully peeled open the envelope moving the wax seal gingerly so as not to damage it. He smiled as he could just make out a small replica of Abbot’s Wood house itself on the wax.
He slipped out the piece of paper and slowly unfolded it.
