The Kaiser's Gold

by Bill Kitson

  ‘As for the coin, you have to take everything with a pinch of salt. As Barbara said, my grandmother was far from normal. I think they call it senile dementia. Amongst her strange behaviour she’d taken to wandering around the Hall and the estate clad only in her nightgown. That wasn’t the worst part of it. If anyone tried to stop her, she’d get extremely angry and accuse them of trying to steal her fortune. Her language was appalling, using words we didn’t even think she knew. Given our circumstances, I suppose the idea that we had a fortune or anything worth stealing had its comical side. Father said she was beginning to act and talk strangely even before he was given the coin. He blamed the fact that Grandfather had died young and she’d been on her own for so long with the whole burden of managing the estate on her shoulders.

  ‘The gist of her tale was that the coin came from Africa, Cameroon to be exact. I do know that Grandfather had been posted there as a young infantry captain at the outbreak of the First World War, so at least that part has an element of truth to it. Apparently he returned to Africa once the war was over, and that was when he contracted the tropical disease which killed him. In her lucid moments she used to talk about him. It was all rather sad. He used to lock himself away in the study for hours on end; only emerging when it was time for dinner. Towards the end, he even stopped doing that, and eventually, he died in there. I think that is possibly why my father never used the study much.’

  ‘What possessed your grandfather to go back to Africa?’ Barbara asked.

  ‘That’s exactly what I asked Father; and that’s where the fantastical part of the story comes in. According to Grandma, he went to recover some treasure he and another soldier had looted from a dead German. If you believe Grandma, it was worth a fortune, even at the values current all those years ago.’

  ‘Surely he would have cashed the treasure in long ago, especially if the estate needed money so badly,’ Eve objected.

  ‘He might have been tempted to, if it existed at all, but that might not have been possible. The coins would have been seen as stolen property in the eyes of the authorities. It’s regarded as theft if it’s carried out by private individuals, but it’s the spoils of war if the government does it. Grandma reckoned he knew he was dying; knew he would never be able to profit from it personally, and decided to secrete the treasure somewhere around the house or the estate. He told her there was a document hidden somewhere that would provide a clue to whoever went looking for the gold once the heat died down. As I recall, she said something along the lines of, “Your grandfather told me the clues he had left would shed light on the whereabouts of a hidden fortune to anyone who knew how to interpret his message. I hope they’ll find it when the time is right”. Whatever she thought he meant by that, I really don’t know.’

  ‘That last bit seems to bear out the theory that he dare not cash them in for fear of being arrested,’ Barbara pointed out. ‘If we’re to believe any of it, that is.’

  Brian smiled a trifle sadly. ‘That’s it; now you have one small example of why we thought Grandma was loopy, God bless her.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  I sat staring into the fire for a while. Eve must have read more into my silence than the others, for she asked, ‘What do you think of all this, Adam?’

  I took my time before replying. ‘It’s just possible that everyone has done Brian’s grandmother a grave injustice. Yes, I agree it might all be nonsense, but she is by no means the only one to tell tales of fabulous treasure that had its roots in or around the Great War. I spent some time in Africa when I was a foreign correspondent and there were rumours circulating then about stashes of treasure hidden by the Germans as they retreated. It’s the sort of story tribesmen love to tell at night as they’re sitting by the fire–’I smiled,‘–much as we are now, I suppose, but without the claret. The type of treasure and its location vary with every telling, and the amount almost always increases each time they recount it. One thing that is constant, though, is the area where they reckon the treasure might be, and that area does include Cameroon.’

  It was late when we retired. The snow was still falling heavily as I looked out from the bedroom window. Eve and I slept in a four-poster bed, which was a novel experience, far grander than our separate rooms at Mulgrave Castle. My sleep was punctuated by dreams of a treasure hunt, during which I was pursued by nameless, faceless individuals bent on stealing it from us. As things turned out, it seems I can prophesise equally well when I’m asleep.

  Light was beginning to show around the edges of the curtains when I woke up. At first I thought I’d slept in, and it was only when I looked at the luminous dial of my watch that I realized how early it was. That could only mean the light was being reflected from lying snow outside.

  I tried to settle, but sleep evaded me and as I was lying there, warm and drowsy, I had a random thought which I could only assume had been prompted by my recent dreams. The idea was startling enough to make me sit up in bed, a reflex action that disturbed Eve.

  What is it they say about buses? You wait ages for one to arrive, and then three turn up one after the other. It was a little like that with me; one idea prompted another and that in turn provoked a third.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Eve’s voice was heavy with sleep.

  ‘Nothing, I had an idea that’s all. Go back to sleep.’

  I was beginning to think she’d done so, but a few minutes later she asked, ‘What time is it?’

  I told her. After a pause she replied, ‘Your watch must have stopped. It’s daylight outside.’

  ‘I think that must be because of the snow.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that. What was it then?’

  ‘What was what?’

  ‘This strange phenomenon; you having an idea.’

  I explained as well as I could what was little more than a series of guesses I’d strung together, with no proof that a connection existed beyond the assumptions I’d made to get from one stage to the next. ‘Do you remember when Brian was talking about his grandmother’s story, he used the words “my grandfather and another soldier” when he described the alleged discovery of the treasure in Africa?’

  ‘If they did find treasure, you mean. Yes, I remember that. What of it?’

  ‘Isn’t it natural to assume that the other soldier also kept one of the coins?’

  ‘That sounds logical, even for you.’

  I smiled in the semi-darkness. ‘If that’s the case, and the story is true, how come all the treasure ended up here? Why not only half of it?’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what did happen; you’ve no proof otherwise.’

  ‘True, but if that were so, why did Brian’s grandfather think it necessary to hide the stash of gold? If the authorities weren’t aware of their existence, who else could he be concealing them from but his partner in crime? Think about the sequence of events that we know for a fact actually took place. Grandpa Latimer served in Africa. When the war was over, he returned there. Why? What possible reason could he have for returning other than to recover the loot? And why did he return alone? Why not take his companion along? Remember, they were in the middle of one of the bloodiest wars of all time. Isn’t it possible that the other soldier might have been killed in battle? That would explain Grandpa returning alone.’

  ‘I’m with you so far; even though I’ve no idea where you’re taking me. However, there is one snag. If Grandpa knew his companion had been killed, why the need to hide the treasure?’

  ‘I think he would have to have worked on the assumption that the other soldier would also have told his family about the treasure, and in doing so would have given them details of who his companion had been, in case he didn’t return. Going on from there, if the story got passed down his family as well as Grandpa’s; there could also be someone else around nowadays who knows all about the gold. The family members who passed the story on might not have been seen as crazy like Brian’s grandmother was, and so the story would have been taken far more seriously.’<
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  ‘Surely they would assume that the coins had been sold and the money used by now.’

  ‘Not necessarily. If the two men talked and planned their course of action, they might have agreed to hold tight until it was safe to dispose of the coins without risking exposure as thieves. If that was so, and that part of the story also got retold over the years, the present generation might assume that the treasure is still here, somewhere within Rowandale Hall or the estate. When Brian’s father died, seemingly without an heir, they might have seen it as their best chance to acquire the estate and the treasure within it. Especially as there were other benefits to be gained.’

  ‘What other benefits?’

  ‘The chance to make another fortune out of a large civil engineering project is what I mean. They would benefit via the sale of the land, through the quarrying operation, and the sale of materials to the road makers. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you should see your doctor about prescribing some sleeping tablets. That way you might not get such wild ideas at such unearthly hours and I might get a decent night’s sleep. Do you realize it’s at least two hours before we need to get up and I’m wide awake? What are we supposed to do until then?’

  ‘I could make love to you if you like?’

  ‘That sounds nice, but what about the other one hour fifty-five minutes?’

  Half an hour later, Eve said sleepily, ‘OK, so I was wrong.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘One hour, thirty-five minutes.’

  It seemed little brighter when we went downstairs. Despite Eve’s forebodings we had both fallen asleep again, and it was nearer three hours later when I awoke for the second time. I might not have done, even then, had I not been tickled awake. Eve has a wicked sense of humour, and the place she chose to attract my attention proved that. ‘I thought I was on a promise,’ I grumbled.

  ‘You’ve already had an early morning dip, don’t be greedy.’

  We ambled down the broad staircase, hand in hand, and made our way towards the kitchen via the large dining hall, where I noticed that Brian had acted on the knowledge that they were no longer wanted by the police by placing half a dozen logs and some small pieces of coal on the grate to revive the fire. It was blazing cheerfully as we passed and there was a faint, deliciously aromatic scent in the air.

  ‘Adam, whatever we do when we’re talking to the architect about the extension to Dene Cottage, we must insist on open fires. Ones that will burn logs like this one.’

  ‘That’s quite spooky.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I was thinking exactly the same.’

  Eve groaned. ‘If we’re starting to think alike, does that mean I shall also start to get really wild ideas?’ She paused, then added, ‘Come to think of I already have done, when I agreed to marry you.’

  When we reached the kitchen, we were treated to a view of the rear ends of our host and hostess protruding from the front of a chest freezer that I thought would comfortably have housed a small flock of sheep. ‘Are we interrupting an intimate moment?’ I asked; only to get a savage dig in my ribs from Eve for my trouble.

  Brian straightened up and looked round at us. ‘Good morning, lazybones. We were trying to find some bacon for breakfast, but I think Barbara might have scoffed it all.’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ Barbara emerged, brandishing a large freezer bag triumphantly. ‘I knew there was more, lots of it. There’s plenty in this freezer, unless we’re marooned for over a fortnight.’

  ‘I hope you’re not too hungry. Rowandale Hall doesn’t run to a microwave oven to defrost things.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Barbara told him. ‘That will be the first thing to go on the wedding present list.’

  ‘I thought that was the way things were headed when you toasted the future mistress of Rowandale Hall last night,’ I told Brian.

  ‘Yes, I thought it best to make an honest woman of her. We could have simply lived together, but what would the neighbours think?’

  ‘You don’t have any neighbours,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That’s true.’ He turned to Barbara. ‘How do you fancy being my mistress instead of my wife?’

  ‘I already am your mistress.’

  ‘That settles it, I suppose. I have one condition, though.’

  ‘And what might that be?’

  ‘No bloody Mendelssohn when you walk down the aisle. Or Lohengrin for that matter.’

  ‘What do you suggest? And if you say “Oh God Our Help in Ages Past” I swear I’ll strangle you.’

  I thought it high time to change the subject. ‘Did someone mention coffee a while back?’

  They hadn’t, but the prompt reminded the happy couple of their duty as hosts. Once we were seated with our drinks, Brian said, ‘I hope you’ve nothing urgent planned for today. The forecast isn’t brilliant and the roads could be quite tricky, even for that beast of a car of yours. You might be better staying a bit longer.’

  ‘Does that mean we’re stuck with them for another night? It’s starting to feel very crowded.’ Barbara’s voice echoed in the enormous kitchen, emphasizing the irony in her words.

  ‘Adam had an idea halfway through the night,’ Eve told them. ‘He woke me up especially so he could share it with me.’

  ‘What was it about, or shouldn’t we ask?’

  ‘It was all to do with what you told us last night, Brian.’ I explained my theory, and awaited their reaction.

  Barbara was the first to respond. ‘What is it you write, Adam? I thought it was crime novels, not fantasy.’

  ‘Hang on, sweetheart, maybe he has a point. There was something else; something my grandma told me several times, but I can’t quite remember what it was. All I can think of at this stage is that it had something to do with treasure. Maybe we could do worse than look around for some clue, if we’ve nothing better to do.

  ‘Brian, think about the size of this place. It’s huge. Searching Rowandale Hall would take an army of men with years at their disposal.’

  ‘It would if they had to search the whole of the building, but I think there are a lot of areas we could discount before we start. I’m thinking of the servants’ quarters, the public rooms, working areas such as this.’ He gestured round the kitchen. ‘There’s no way the clues could have been hidden anywhere they could have been discovered by accident; or by the wrong person.’

  ‘I suppose we could have a look, but no way am I going to start on an empty stomach,’ Barbara said and headed for the stove.

  During breakfast, I asked Barbara if the eggs we were eating had been brought from Linden House.

  ‘No fear, we used those in the first couple of days we were here. Brian got these, but don’t ask me how, or from where. I happened to mention we were out of eggs and next morning there was a tray with two dozen on it sitting over there on the worktop.’

  ‘I nicked them out of Zeke Calvert’s barn,’ Brian explained. ‘I’ll settle up with him later.’

  ‘You took a bit of a risk, didn’t you? What if you’d been seen, or arrested?’

  ‘There was no danger of that. I passed within twenty yards of the village bobby and he didn’t even notice me. It’s the sort of thing I was trained for, and avoiding recapture in the jungle made me even better at it.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once we’d finished eating we set about our self-imposed task of searching the Hall, and even Barbara, who was a devout non-believer in the legend of the treasure, admitted to a sense of excitement. The first room Brian took us into was the library. ‘I thought this might be the likeliest place to start,’ he suggested.

  I heard a muttered, ‘Oh no, not again,’ from alongside me and Eve gave me a look of mock horror and despair. We had spent countless hours the previous Christmas searching through nearly every book in the library at Mulgrave Castle; a task neither of us was keen to repeat. Before we plunged ourselves into a search of the room, I asked Brian, ‘What sort of person was your grandfather? I apprecia
te that you didn’t know him, but your father and grandmother must have told you something about him.’

  ‘To be fair, my father would have been too young to form much of an opinion of him, or his character, or how he thought. All I can remember him saying was that the old man, as he referred to him, used to shut himself away in his study with the door locked.

  ‘When I asked Grandma about that she said it was because he was far too proud to let anyone, even the servants, and especially his son, see how frail and ill he had become.’

  ‘Maybe that was the case. But it might also have been the excuse he came up with to mislead people, and to disguise what he was really up to behind that locked door. Perhaps he was busy hiding the clue that he hoped would lead Rupert to where he’d stashed the treasure.’

  ‘You could be onto something, Adam.’ Brian looked at Eve. ‘He’s quite intelligent at times, isn’t he?’

  ‘He does have his moments. Not many, I grant you, but one or two.’

  ‘OK, the study it is.’ I smiled as Brian spoke, not at his words, but at the audible sigh of relief from Eve.

  In the study, my immediate thought was that if this was the lesser of two evils, the margin between them wasn’t that great. The room was impressive, with one wall being given over to four long French windows that reached from the floor almost to the high ceiling, flooding the interior with light. The other three walls were panelled with oak that had darkened with age. The only breaks were where the door was, and on the opposite wall, where a beautifully patterned marble fireplace had been set in to provide warmth and comfort for the occupants. ‘I think it would be a good idea to light that before we start,’ Brian suggested.

  I helped him by carrying a hod full of coal and arms full of logs from the bowels of the cellar where he had made his burglarious entry to his own home. By this time the girls had made paper firelighters and Brian set about getting the blaze started. As he worked, I examined the wall panelling, and noticed a small mouse carved discreetly in one corner, the trademark of the famous manufacturer.