by Rowan Casey
“Speak to you soon,” Hautdesert said before he hung up. It was the closest thing Matthias had been able to get to a goodbye out of the man.
15
The church seemed large and a little imposing for the size of the small village that it served. It was hard to imagine the community being large enough to provide a congregation to fill the place given the ever-dwindling number of regular worshippers across the country as a whole. How many more buildings like this were there, more than half empty when once they would have been filled to capacity?
Matthias expected the find the door locked as there were no services scheduled that day, but he was surprised to find it open. Three people were dotted around the pews, each of them silent apart from the occasional sniff coming from a woman sitting towards the front. A man was busy tidying a selection of leaflets in a display stand on a table at the rear of the main room. He glanced up when Matthias approached.
“Welcome,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I’m surprised to find you open,” Matthias said. He already decided that he needed to ask questions that would sound crazy coming from a member of the public, but they needed to be asked, nonetheless.
“We try to stay open for as long as we can,” the man said. “We used to leave the building open seven days a week, but we had a number of thefts which has meant that we needed to review our security arrangements.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matthias said, then reached into his pocket for his wallet, retrieved the business card that the professor had given to him and held it out for the man to take. He had checked it in the car before he came inside, relieved to find that it did not include her first name. He just hoped that he had not stumbled upon someone whose paths had crossed with hers. “I would have arranged an appointment to call to take a look around, but I was in the area and took a slight detour on the off chance.”
“How can I help you, Professor?”
“I’m doing research on Henry of Blois and wondered if you have parish records dating back that far. He was…”
“Bishop of Winchester, younger brother of King Stephen.”
Matthias couldn’t hide the surprise on his face and the man smiled in response. “Sorry,” the man said. “My PhD was in church history.”
Matthias felt a moment of panic. The man might not know the professor, but he was going to know a hell of a lot more about his supposed specialist subject that Matthias did himself. But he was playing a part and he was hoping to pull it off no matter what.
“Then you’re just the man I need to speak to.”
“There are no documents held here from that far back, I’m afraid. Anything that old would have been put in the hands of the bishop a long time ago. There may be some in the local archive at County Hall, but I suspect that others will have been placed in the British Library. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“I understand that Henry was buried here in the first instance before his remains were transferred to Winchester cathedral.”
“That’s the story at least, but if you’re looking for evidence to support that, I’ve not been able to find any.”
“But you believe it to be true?”
“You know as well as I do that stories like this don’t appear out of thin air. There’s either an element of truth about it or the story has become misattributed, that it was actually someone else who was buried here first and then had their remains moved somewhere else.”
“Any potential candidates?”
“Not that I’m aware of, and there’s nothing here to mark where he might have been interred initially.”
“So why here? If he was buried in this church initially, why here?”
“Apparently he loved this church, and who could blame him? There are later records which talk about various aspects of the church being here thanks to his patronage. There’s a story that he had a lump of rock sent here once just to sit on. I guess when he was in places like Winchester he was surrounded by pomp and ceremony.”
“But here he could just sit on a rock.” Matthias’ brain was racing, his heart thumping in his chest. Was it possible that he was actually on the right track?
“I have a feeling that he probably brought a cushion with him too, but yes, you may well be right.”
“Can you show it to me?”
“Sadly, it’s no longer here, but I can show you where it used to be.”
The surge of euphoria was quickly dashed away. He might have been on the right track but it had been snatched away from him after no more than a fleeting moment. He hoped that the trail had not gone completely cold.
“Any idea what became of it?”
“The story is that it was sent to be included in the construction, or the repair of a monastery. I’m sure it’s a quite well-known place, somewhere in Scotland if I remember right.”
“Scotland?”
“If you give me a minute, I’m sure that there’s a book in the vestry that mentions it.”
The man was on his way without giving Matthias the opportunity to at least pretend that he didn’t want him to go to any trouble. He returned in no more than a couple of minutes with a book in hand, frantically flipping through the pages.
“Sorry,” he said. “I know it’s in here somewhere, but sadly there’s no index, but you’re welcome to take it. There are quite a few interesting snippets in there that might be of interest.”
“I couldn’t possibly,” Matthias said, feeling suddenly guilty at being given something for his deception, but the man waved a hand.
“Don’t worry, we have several copies and we can certainly spare one. I hope it proves helpful in your research.”
“In that case, perhaps I can make a donation,” Matthias reached for his wallet again and withdrew a ten-pound note.
“There really is no need, but you are very kind.” The man gestured towards a slot set into the wall where payments for various pamphlets and cards were deposited. Another of the visitors moved toward them, clearly seeking attention, and Matthias was able to slip away after showing his gratitude. The stone might not be there, but he was hoping that its location lay in the pages of the book. He had a feeling that, if the man’s suspicions were correct, he had another long journey ahead of him.
16
Matthias found a pub and settled down with an orange juice and a ham sandwich. It had been a while since breakfast and it was only when he started to drive away from the church that his stomach reminded him of the fact. If he was going to trawl through the book in the search for the answer, there was no reason why he couldn’t do it in comfort. He had his phone on the table next to his drink, but had no intention of calling Hautdesert until he had something to tell him. He tried flicking through the pages initially, stopping at random, in the hope that he might stumble across a reference, but there were so many mentions of Henry that he was not seeing past his name. Eventually he turned to the beginning and began to work his way through, speed reading so that he picked up the essence of what was written without needing take in every single word. It was slow going, but at least he was making progress. By the time he finished his drink and sandwich he was little more than a third of the way through it, but at last he reached something that might relate to the story of Henry and the Stone.
The stone had been situated at the edge of the churchyard, giving a view of the church that Henry had thought pleasing. At the time of writing, a bench had taken its place, but no matter how many times he read and reread the page there was nothing to tell him what had become of the stone itself. Was it possible that the man had been mistaken and that the book did not contain the answer he was looking for? He collected another drink from the bar and carried on reading.
He checked the chapter titles, but nothing leaped out at him as being an obvious place to try, and the thought of wading through the whole thing was no longer giving him a thrill. There was only one way to do this and so he settled down to see how far he could get befo
re he felt the need to leave. He had barely read another half a dozen pages before his phone rang. Hautdesert.
“I take it that you have nothing to report?” the man said. “I’m assuming that you would have called if you had.”
“There’s really no need to be so impatient,” Matthias said. He was starting to feel annoyed at the constant checking up and having to hold back in case he said anything that would jeopardize his shot at the money was proving too great. “I think I’m onto something.”
“So what have you found?”
“How about you tell me what you’ve been thinking first?”
There was a moment’s pause as Hautdesert considered the position for a moment, but Matthias was not about to say anything. He knew that power of silence; the pressure it could bring to the person why needed to speak and on the audience who were hanging on the next word.
“You may recall that I said that the stone you are looking for may not be as you expect. You said that you have seen the image at the church in Llandudno, but that is a relatively modern painting. It is taken from the artist’s imagination, not from having seen the item itself.”
Matthias had not forgotten. He was more than happy to believe the possibility that the stone that Henry of Blois had taken to the church he had visited earlier could be the same stone. He could not be completely certain, but he was happy to accept the possibility. “I get that.”
“Sometimes legends merge as stories are told and retold. An item from one story becomes a part of another story just through an error in the retelling and eventually they become the same story. Do you follow me?”
“Sure, but I’m not sure where you are going with it.”
“Well, sometimes the same is true. There may be several stories about an item, but they become separated, as if they were about different objects. Are you with me now?”
“With you? I’m already ahead of you.”
“You are?”
“I don’t have the proof yet, and maybe I won’t find it, but there’s a story about Henry of Blois bringing a stone with him to this little village in Buckinghamshire just so he had something to sit on and look at the church.”
“And you think that it was the Whetstone?”
“It might be a bit of a leap of faith to make the connection, but it had to be important to him in some way to have this particular lump of rock transported here rather than getting something supplied locally. I can’t believe that there’s a shortage of rocks to sit on around here.”
“And is it still there?”
“I’m afraid not. The story goes that it was sent away to be used in work on a monastery in Scotland.”
“Sounds a little far-fetched don’t you think?”
“No more than the idea of it coming here in the first place, or even the thought of there being a magical stone. If anything, I would say that it meant it was important, or at least someone thought so.”
“I tend to agree with you, and your mention of Scotland fits with my own suspicions. Do you know where in Scotland?”
“Not yet, but apparently the answer is in a book I was given at the church. I may have a fair amount of reading to do, and if I’m right, another long drive.”
“If you are right we will not be able to afford the time for you to drive there.”
“What? You’re going to get someone else to finish the job after everything I’ve done? Is this some kind of game to get out of paying me the bonus?” He was barely holding back the real anger that was threatening to burst out. If the man had been in front of him at that moment he might not have been able to hold back.
“You misunderstand me. I’m not trying to take anything away from you. I’m not sure that this task could be finished in time without you. You have a very special gift, even if you don’t understand just how to use it. All I meant was that the drive will take too long. I will arrange a flight for you with a car at the other end. I’m sure that you are right about the stone being in Scotland, though I suspect the destination that your book will provide is not going to be its current location.”
“What makes you say that?” Matthias was starting to calm down, but he was feeling a little foolish at his assumption and subsequent outburst.
“Because if the monastery in question is the one I think it is then I know where the stone is.”
“Then you won’t need me to find it.”
“I will need your help to retrieve it, and that will be where your very special talent will come in very handy.”
“I told you before, I’m not a thief.”
Hautdesert seemed to ignore the statement completely. He was acting as if Matthias was going to do the job for him, and the only question was a matter of price. “If it is where I think it is, then you may feel the desire to walk away, but the reward will be doubled again. As I’ve said before, time is of the essence. Unless you have any other possible leads that should be followed I will go ahead and reserve a seat on the next available flight for you. I’ll send the details to you as soon as I have them. I’ll make sure that you have enough time to get to the airport.”
“You seem pretty sure that I will be going then, no matter what I’ve said about not stealing anything.”
“I heard what you said. It is possible though that we may have different definitions about theft and there may be a simpler way of achieving what we need than you can possibly imagine. But to make that work I may need to join you in person.”
“Oh, joy,” Matthias muttered under his breath. “Can’t wait.”
“Carry on with your reading Mr. Matthias, I should have the details for in the next thirty minutes. With a little luck you might have found the confirmation we’re looking for by then.”
Matthias hung up on the man without saying another word. There was no need for him to say anything and he gained some small satisfaction from turning the tables of Hautdesert. He had finally found what he was looking for just before his phone alerted him to a text confirming details of the flight. It gave him a couple of hours to get to the airport and deal with the formalities, but he needed to speak to the man again.
“I’ve found it,” Matthias said.
“And?”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” Matthias said. He wanted to be sure that Hautdesert wasn’t just going to agree with whatever he said. It was time to show or fold.
“Scone,” Hautdesert said, rhyming in with stone.
“Scone,” Matthias replied, making it sound more like spoon without actually pointing out that the other man was pronouncing the place incorrectly. “But you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. This thing we’re looking for is actually the Stone of Scone? Have you got any idea what that is?”
“Of course. It’s a ceremonial stone used in the crowning of the Kings of Scotland.”
“But it’s more than that. It’s pretty much the representation of everything it means to be Scottish. And you want me to steal it? Why don’t we pop down to the Tower of London and help ourselves to the crown jewels while we’re about it. Do you even know where it’s kept?”
“In Edinburgh Castle, I believe.”
“And you think that I can just walk in and steal it?”
“Why not? But to be able to do it. You’ll need to accept that some things you consider to be impossible are actually possible.”
17
Matthias was surprised to discover that he had not been booked onto a scheduled flight. His instructions had been to head for the Departures entrance where he would be met, but he was caught unawares when his name was called over the public-address system and he was directed to the concierge desk. It turned out that somehow Hautdesert had been able to secure a private plane that was fueled and ready to take him to Edinburgh.
“Saves a lot of hanging about,” the pilot said as he led Matthias to the plane. “But I guess your boss can afford it.”
“He’s not my boss.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Doesn’t matter,�
� said Matthias. “I guess you might say I’m freelance.”
“In that case you must have something special about you for him to cough up for a private plane.”
“I’m not sure that I do. I just get the feeling that he has more money than sense and sometimes he has the need to show it.”
“Well, he’s paid me well enough to get you to Edinburgh, so get you there I will. None of my business why he wants you there. It’s not like I’m taking you in or out of the country, I’m just acting like a glorified taxi service.”
“You got any other passengers?”
“Uh-uh, just you and me.”
“No co-pilot?”
“I don’t need one for this trip, but sadly that means that there won’t be anyone around to serve you drinks.”
“I’m hoping that we won’t be in the air long enough to feel the need for one.”
“Sadly there’s no alcohol on board anyway?”
“I’m sure I’ll survive.”
“Nervous flyer?”
“No, but I can do a good impression of one.”
“Do I take that to mean that you are not going to want to fly up front with me? There’s a spare seat.”
“I think I’ll pass if you don’t mind. I’d rather just enjoy the peace and quiet.”
“Your call,” the pilot said pointing to a plane. “This is my baby.”
A flight of steps had already been lowered from the single doorway on the side of the plane, ready to welcome them aboard.
“I was expecting it to have propellers,” Matthias said, surprised to discover that the aircraft waiting for them was a small jet plane. “Business must be good.”
“Good enough,” the man said. “Sadly I don’t own it, but the sheik who uses this is out of the country at the moment and he was the one who put your colleague in touch with me.”
“I guess that explains the absence of any alcohol.”
