The Crypt Trilogy Bundle

by Bill Thompson

  No one knows how old Glastonbury Abbey really is, but it is known that Ine of Wessex, a Saxon who became king in 688, expanded the existing church during his reign. By the mid-twelfth century Glastonbury was the richest monastery in Britain and it was replete with treasures of all kinds, including books and artwork dating back hundreds of years.

  In 1184 a fire totally consumed the abbey, leaving only two huge walls of the once-great church; those walls still stand today. The monks immediately began to rebuild a portion of the building. While the reconstruction itself is indisputable, there’s a story many historians don’t accept. What is factual is that monks excavating near the abbey’s Lady Chapel in 1191 unearthed a sarcophagus below that contained the bones of two people buried six hundred years earlier. The academic world disputes who those people were, but the monks said they were King Arthur and Queen Guinevere.

  Even a thousand years ago, attributing the bones to the monarchs increased tourist traffic to Glastonbury Abbey. According to some, that’s the reason the monks actively promoted and even embellished the story. Tourists flocked to see the site where the legendary couple’s remains were buried.

  In the twenty-first century guides still keep the story alive. They explain how Arthur’s and Guinevere’s bones were dug up in 1191, displayed for a hundred years then entombed in the Abbey Church in 1278.

  Alternate stories abound, including a persistent theory that the Abbot John of Taunton himself whisked away the bones to a secret site. Regardless of the truth, plaques at Glastonbury identify places where the bones were allegedly found and reburied.

  After the 1200s the already wealthy abbey continued to prosper for centuries. During the Middle Ages, the abbot of Glastonbury had more power than any other person in southwest Britain and lived in opulence. His friend King Henry VII was the abbot’s guest in the late 1400s, but thanks to his successor Henry VIII, by 1539 the buildings that made up the splendid abbey complex were gone. That infamous King presided over the destruction and razing of nearly a thousand churches, abbeys and friaries throughout England as part of a religious movement called the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The king also appropriated all the wealth and assets the churches held.

  Roberto and Edward stood inside the towering ruined walls of Glastonbury Abbey. They had seen the plaques, one where the bones of Arthur and Guinevere were disinterred and the other where reburial occurred.

  Although they enjoyed the ruins, their visit to Glastonbury Abbey wasn’t for sightseeing. They intended to find out if Arthur and Guinevere really had been reburied there. That answer would require ingenuity and subterfuge.

  Neither of them had a problem with illegal activities. Even amongst them there was deception – both pretended to be legitimate businessmen – one an occult bookstore owner and the other a wealthy investor. They hid the dark aspects of their lives. One of them was a killer who had two bodies in his basement to prove it. The other was a pay-to-play assassin for governments who hired his services. Each of them could easily step outside the law to accomplish a goal. For this trip they’d created a believable story, one designed to get them answers, and boarded the train to Glastonbury.

  They spent two hours at the site then drove their rental car a few miles to the town. They had an appointment with Cameron Shockey, the director of the privately funded Glastonbury Abbey Trust, which owned and maintained the ancient grounds. His biography was posted on the trust’s website; they learned he held doctorates from Cambridge and the Sorbonne in Paris and was forty-two years old.

  Dr. Shockey was a friendly, outgoing man, slightly balding and considerably overweight. Roberto and Edward introduced themselves and said they were history buffs fascinated with the Arthurian legends. Edward explained, “We’re friends who have been blessed with sufficient success in business to allow us to indulge our passion for all this. We’re neophytes compared to yourself, Dr. Shockey, but we want to learn everything we can about where Arthur and Guinevere may be buried.”

  Shockey discussed the legend of the interment of the King and Queen. He was convinced they were real people who had truly been buried at Camelot. He believed Glastonbury Abbey was built on the site of their mythical castle, the bodies were found in 1191 and were removed by monks.

  “The bones were discovered beneath the flooring in the Lady Chapel, tucked underneath an old stone sarcophagus. According to the monks who found them, that coffin held one of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table. As I recall, it was inscribed ‘Eternal Protector of the King.’”

  My God! Edward thought. He’s describing Lamorak’s sarcophagus! He glanced at Roberto, who subtly shook his head.

  The administrator continued. “That sarcophagus disappeared in the 1200s, around the time Arthur’s and Guinevere’s remains were reburied. Its present location is unknown; it likely was accidentally destroyed while they were trying to move it. No one knows for sure.”

  Edward’s skin tingled as he listened to the man confirm so much of what they’d found back in London. Changing the subject, Shockey said how much they hoped to continue excavations around the abbey. There were no current projects – although his board of directors had identified several, funding was tight. For years they’d been unable to do anything but the most basic work.

  “There are hundreds of worthy projects in England, but donations have declined so dramatically in recent years we can’t do much. Our trust alone could use a million dollars a year. For instance, we want to restore the foundations around Glastonbury Abbey that disappeared in the thousand years between its construction and when Henry VIII took down everything in 1540. And that’s just one project that comes to mind – there are a dozen we could begin today if we just had the money.”

  The administrator was glad the subject of money finally came up. He was pleased to speak with two wealthy gentlemen from London who were obviously interested in Glastonbury, but it was time to see what they could do for the trust. He needed benefactors and hoped these two would help ease the long dry spell without funding.

  It turned out the men had one particular project in mind. Roberto asked if they donated, say, a half million dollars, would the trust be willing to disinter the bones of the legendary King and Queen and perform DNA testing to prove their identities?

  The man brightened at the prospect of new patrons. “The stories that place Camelot here fuel millions a year in tourism revenue for Glastonbury. It would serve us well to conclusively prove that the legendary couple actually are buried here. However, gentlemen … well, to put it bluntly, this is a bit of a delicate subject. Before speaking further, I must ensure you’ll keep our discussion confidential.”

  He pulled a paper from his desk drawer and handed it to Roberto. “This is our standard confidentiality agreement. If you’re willing to sign it, I’ll give you some thoughts about the project you envision.”

  They’d come all this way to find out the answer they needed. Both signed immediately. Dr. Shockey laid the document on his desk and continued.

  “The search for the reburial site has been conducted time and again over the last hundred years,” he said ruefully. “As you saw today, a plaque marks the location, but confidentially, the bones have never been found. There’s absolutely no hard evidence they’re buried here and our Trustees wouldn’t accept your money for what we are certain would be a fruitless endeavor. There’s no telling where they are, if they even existed. But it would be disastrous if the public found that out. We need curious tourists spending their money here at what they believe is the site of Arthur’s Camelot.”

  Perfect.

  The administrator mentioned other projects they might consider. They politely declined for now and asked Shockey not to discuss their visit with his board.

  “There’s no need to raise expectations unless we found something else we’d be willing to support,” Roberto explained. Shockey said he’d contact them if anything new turned up regarding the bones of the monarchs.

  On the evening train to London they r
ecapped the fruitful day at Glastonbury. They sat in the bar car, speaking in whispers over their drinks. Having never seen the ruins until today, Roberto had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Best of all, they learned the critical thing they wanted to know. Now they knew the legendary King and Queen very possibly weren’t reburied at the abbey at all.

  There had been the one revelation that really made them excited. Lamorak’s sarcophagus had once been at Camelot, now Glastonbury. Sometime after 1191 the stone coffin and its occupant disappeared.

  Now they were certain Lamorak’s body was in the sarcophagus. That fact in turn supported the theory that the monarch actually existed. So far they had no idea why Lamorak’s body had been buried in the crypt of the Church of St. Mary Axe. But it surely was.

  Dr. Shockey had said Arthur and Guinevere had originally been “tucked underneath an old stone sarcophagus inscribed ‘Eternal Protector of the King.’” What if in 1278 it had happened all over again? What if Arthur’s and Guinevere’s bones had been secretly brought to London along with Lamorak’s sarcophagus? What if they’d been reburied in the same manner as their original interment? What if the King and Queen of Camelot were actually lying below the coffin in Edward’s basement?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Now that the power was on, Roberto’s bright floodlights illuminated the ancient Roman passageway more than halfway to its end at the Thames. The men divided responsibilities. Roberto spent his time below ground while Edward continued translating the diaries. Since Lamorak had been moved to London hundreds of years after Guinevere’s death, her journals wouldn’t explain how he ended up in the crypt. Her diaries had already helped them immensely. Translating them was top priority whether they got an answer about Lamorak or not.

  A UPS van snaked down the narrow street, briefly blocking traffic as it unloaded three twenty-pound boxes onto the sidewalk in front of the bookstore. Roberto signed for the ground-penetrating radar unit he’d ordered and carried the boxes through Edward’s shop and down the basement stairs. He unpacked them and lowered the contents to the chamber below, taking advantage of the pulley Edward’s grandfather had installed years before.

  It took about an hour to put the unit together and mount it to its carriage. When he was finished, he had a black box with several gauges that sat on a wheeled tricycle. An operator could move the unit backward or forward while it was aimed at the ground, or it could be swiveled to examine walls and ceilings.

  He planned to cover every inch of the two rooms and the long passageway. He’d also try a slant in an attempt to check underneath the sarcophagus. It wasn’t likely the slant would work; if it didn’t, they’d have to wait until they ultimately moved the heavy stone coffin. The GPR sweep would be slow but the reward substantial if they found new secrets from long ago.

  Roberto connected a large battery pack, and lights began to blink on the radar. He had memorized the online instructions before the equipment arrived, so he was ready. He started next to Lamorak’s sarcophagus, aiming it at the wall and flipping a switch. A beep indicated the device was ready, so he began with a test. Running it along the side wall of the stone coffin, he immediately got a reading that there was a space and something else behind it. That would be the interior of the sarcophagus and the body of Lamorak. Perfect. He now knew what to expect if he got a hit.

  The radar penetrated only straight down or straight to the side. It worked perfectly on floors and walls, but one of the things Roberto considered most promising, a slant search, wasn’t possible. The unit wouldn’t operate that way. The area under the sarcophagus would have to wait since the machine couldn’t go through the coffin and into the floor at a slant.

  He started with the walls. For fifteen minutes he explored the ones above the sides and back of the sarcophagus. The indicators showed solid stone with dirt behind – no hollow spaces, no anomalies. He couldn’t use the machine on the walls that abutted Lamorak’s coffin because the stone sarcophagus was up tight against them. He’d look at those after the sarcophagus was moved.

  He finished one wall, moved to the next one, then the third. There was no need to use GPR on the fourth – it separated Roberto’s chamber from Edward’s via the wooden door. They knew about both sides of that one. So far he’d found absolutely nothing.

  He moved to the floor. He was optimistic about this sweep primarily because of the story they’d heard at Glastonbury. If the bodies of the King and Queen were actually here, he should find them in this room, near Lamorak.

  He operated using a grid, pushing the machine back and forth along the floor in a pattern. There were no positive readings, and he was disappointed as he approached the wall that would mark the end of the floor search. Suddenly the dials swung wildly. Beneath the stone and dirt there was an area of loose fill and something solid was buried there.

  Jackpot!

  Roberto marked an X on the stones that had triggered the radar. He grabbed his entrenching tool and used its pry bar to raise the first stone. He lifted it out of the hole, eagerly grabbed his flashlight and looked down. He saw fresh brown dirt and a sprinkling of white powder. Fresh dirt? What was that about? He used the tool to carefully begin removing the soil. If the bones of the king and queen were here, he didn’t want to accidentally hit them with a shovel.

  “Exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

  He jumped, startled to see Edward standing directly behind him. In his excitement he hadn’t noticed him come down the ladder.

  “You won’t believe what the GPR found! Look at this – there may be bones down there! These could be the bodies we’re looking for!”

  “Unfortunately those aren’t the ones,” Edward replied softly.

  Suddenly everything went black.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Roberto slowly opened first one eye, then the other. He had a throbbing headache. He struggled, unable to move his arms, as he began to recall what had happened.

  He was in a corner of the chamber, securely bound with twist ties around his wrists and ankles. He was tied to a heavy sewer pipe in the corner so tightly he could barely move. He knew calling for help was fruitless; the crypt was two stories below the busy store and only he and Edward knew it was there.

  Fifteen minutes later he heard a door slam and steps coming down the basement stairs. Finally Edward Russell climbed down the ladder and faced him. The man’s eyes darted around the room crazily. His insane personality was in charge of him right now.

  “Ah, Juan Carlos, you’re awake. Sorry to inconvenience you, but you got a bit too close for comfort.” Edward chuckled, mostly to himself.

  “What the hell are you doing? And why are you calling me Juan Carlos again?”

  “Because that’s who you are. I’ve been ready for you. I knew you’d come eventually; I just didn’t expect you to be in the guise of a friend. But then we’ve never really been friends, have we? We tolerate each other, we bide our time while we learn as much as we can about the secrets in the crypt, but we don’t like each other, do we? And you’ve planned all along to take everything for yourself. For your collection. Right, Juan Carlos?”

  From the wild look in Edward’s eyes, Roberto knew he couldn’t reason with him. He had to talk Edward back into his other persona. And he had to find out how much Edward actually knew about the assassin Juan Carlos.

  “Okay, I give up. I admit I’ve used the name Juan Carlos before.”

  “I knew it!” Edward clapped his hands like a gleeful child. “You’re the collector Curtis Pemberly told me about.” Almost as an aside, he gestured to the hole where Roberto had removed the rock from the floor. “That’s Curtis down there, by the way.”

  Roberto’s look of astonishment made Edward happy. He laughed and said, “Maybe I’ll put you there too!”

  The deranged man continued. “So do you admit you’re here to steal the things I found? That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Roberto replied in a calm voice. “Listen to me and think about this. I’m not here to steal an
ything. I really am your friend even though you don’t think so right now. You know I was looking for the bodies of Arthur and Guinevere. I told you I was renting a radar unit and you knew I was going to use it. If you had secrets of your own in the crypt, I’m surprised you left me down here alone, but you did.

  “I have secrets too. Big ones, like you do. But I really am Roberto Maas. I really am a Swiss businessman. Juan Carlos was me in a previous life, one I left behind long ago. I’m seriously interested in antiquities and I love collecting things – the rarer, more unique and amazing, the better. You’re a perfect match as a partner because you have the intellectual background and the academic connections to research just about anything. I don’t give a damn what’s under the floor unless it’s the bones we’re looking for. Don’t you see? I’m on your side. The fact I stumbled upon a secret of yours makes no difference. We’re onto something big. We’re close to proving Arthur and Guinevere are buried here. I need to keep working because I know how to operate the GPR. And you have a business to run. I can do all this while you’re doing your thing. Cut me loose and let’s keep going. All I need is a couple of aspirins. What the hell did you hit me with, by the way?”

  “A shovel,” Edward answered casually. He glanced around the room, then carefully replaced the floor stone. Filling its seams with dirt, he said, “I really wish you hadn’t done this. I’m not sure it’d be safe for you to remain alive now.”

  “If I went to the police, it would be worse for me than for you, trust me. I’ve killed people too, Edward. I really have.”

  “Then maybe you’ll kill me too. See? You just gave me another reason I shouldn’t untie you. I don’t like you anymore.” He sounded like a child now, saying simple sentences in a singsong voice. At the moment he was totally insane.

  We’re going to kill him, aren’t we?

  Maybe. Be patient.