“I’m working with my dad today; he’s got some interesting plans of the town. I thought it might help your research,” she answered with an excited tone. “Will you be at Jez’s later?”
“I don’t know. I’ve nothing planned as yet. I’m going to call him in a minute, see what he’s doing.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ve just spoken to Hannah, she’s at her mum’s work today, bored out of her head, but she says Hi and hopes you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I’m really sorry about ruining the picnic.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Hannah and I filled them in about your headaches. They’re fine about it.”
“You’re sure? It was pretty embarrassing.”
“Totally fine. It’s a shame Aiden had to come and spoil the fun though.”
“I know, lucky for me he had a car though, otherwise someone else would have to have left early,” I surmised.
“We wouldn’t have minded. Was Aiden okay with you? Did he upset you?”
Was she probing now? I couldn’t tell.
“No, he was really nice. He carried me up to my room and left.”
“Wow, he’s so different when he’s around you. I couldn’t believe it when he turned up yesterday just to see you.”
“Mira, what does Aiden do to be so unpopular?”
“He does a lot of ‘chores’ for his grandfather. Mostly clearing up the messes in his grandfather’s wake. Bullying people, demanding money for outstanding debts, he’s a law unto himself. I’ve heard rumours that half the shops pay him protection money, and when they can’t pay, he gets violent. I’ve also heard that when Charlotte Mandle couldn’t pay the rent, Aiden and his buddies literally threw all of her belongings out the window. He didn’t even let her pack but just dumped everything on the front garden.”
“That’s terrible!” I said.
“And, another time, when they were knocking down some houses to make way for the community hospital, the last people to leave wouldn’t go. So he and his group broke down the door in the middle of the night and ‘removed them’. They were left in their night clothes in the street, it was dreadful. And Ben Deverill denied it when they complained to the Council. Because they wouldn’t move out, they had no entitlements. Ben’s nasty too, I don’t know why Daisy doesn’t see it, she’s so friendly with him.”
“I don’t know either, but Daisy’s her own person, I guess.”
“Maybe you’re the one to tame Aiden after all,” she giggled. “Jason likes him, he says the works tough sometimes, but he gets along with him okay. I don’t think he does the violent, punching stuff. He works somewhere else,” Mira continued. “Anyway, Rose, someone’s just walked in, I’ve got to go so I’ll see you later, okay? Bye.”
“Bye, Mira, I’ll catch you later,” we hung up at the same time.
I was still reeling from the conversation. Could Aiden be that bad?
So Mira was working, and I tried to call Hannah a few times but there was no answer. I phoned Jez instead. It rang once and he answered, glad to hear from me. He’d found out some new information so could I come over soon with Morgan? I sighed and said I would.
My legs were a little shaky after the run so I headed upstairs for a shower. Afterwards I lay on my bed. The soft music from my CD player had lulled me into a light sleep, and the warm heat of the sun through my windows warmed my skin. I had never been a daytime sleeper but the headache yesterday, and the run earlier had zapped me of energy.
I came around at the knocking on my door.
“Rose, are you in there?” Morgan said quietly.
“Yep. Hang on,” I said, and clambered off the bed.
At the door Morgan was dressed head to toe in black biker leathers. He looked at me awkwardly.
“Jez phoned me, and said you were heading over sometime. I’m going there now so I could give you a lift?” he said, his voice even.
I paused. I could distance Morgan enough for the time being.
“Okay, just give me a minute to grab my stuff,” I said, shaking fingers combed through my hair.
“I’ll be out front, wait for me there,” and he was gone.
With my bag slung across my chest I waited for Morgan to arrive on the porch. The deep rumble of a bike approached and when the gates opened, my jaw dropped. Morgan wasn’t riding any bike. It was one of those super bikes that you see on a sports channel. The frame was covered completely in black shielding and the wheels were three times as wide as Hannah’s moped. It was an amazing sight.
Morgan completed the vision in his leather bike suit. The visor of his helmet made it impossible to see his face but he must have seen my reaction.
He flipped up his visor and said “Do you like it?”
“Yeah! It’s gorgeous,” I said unable to hide my surprise.
His eyes, the only feature of his face visible, pulled at the sides as he smiled. He handed me a second helmet from somewhere up front, watching me as I put it on.
“Here, I just need to clip this in, and then you can get on.”
In his fingers he held a thin cord and plugged it into a hole at the front of my helmet.
“What’s the cord for?” I asked.
His voice suddenly echoed in my ears.
“So we can talk, silly. Now get on and hold tight.”
I threw one leg over the huge bike to sit, leaning forward to put my arms round his waist.
“Rose, you’ll need to hold tighter otherwise you’ll fall off. Don’t be afraid.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Who said I was afraid?”
He answered with spontaneous laughter.
I pushed closer to him and gripped on tightly, while my heart fluttered away, dancing inside just to feel him next to me again.
We set off, through the gates and down the lane. The speed was exhilarating and I let out a childish squeal as we raced along. With the thrill of this new experience I now understood why boys got so fixated on speed. Morgan was a careful rider, and I wasn’t worried or scared at all, even when we had to brake suddenly as slow cars impeded our journey.
We drove slowly through town respectful of the speed limits and Morgan steered the bike gracefully into Jez’s street. It had been such a quick journey compared to Hannah’s moped, and much less painful.
Jez welcomed us warmly again and guided us in, checking outside before he closed the door. He was on edge, fidgety and looked drawn. Sleep riddled his eyes; he looked exhausted. I felt for his energy spark which no longer buzzed like any normal person. Its neutral hum was stagnant.
Jez was glad to see Morgan. They shook hands and man-hugged again and Jez took us upstairs.
Except for muffled sounds coming from Jez’s upstairs room, the rest of the house was silent. But a sudden giggle told me Lucie was here, along with Debbie. I climbed the stairs in trepidation ready to meet again the girl who had ruined my hopes with Morgan.
I would pretend not to care, and I drew in a breath quickly before entering the room.
- Chapter Eleven -
“You’re okay!” Debbie jumped up and gave me a quick tight hug. “We were so concerned!”
“I’m fine,” I grinned, and put my spare arm around her. My other hand was still holding my bag.
Lucie remained silent. She offered a brief smile at me but her eyes lit up when Morgan followed me into the room.
“You gave us a real fright, I thought you’d be in bed for days,” Debbie continued as she sat back on the bed.
“No! Just sleep, it’s all I needed.” I put my bag down next to the bed in the only spare space available.
“Hi Morgan, how are you?” Lucie drawled, flicking her blonde curls over her shoulder, and gazed at him with doe eyes. If I had known she’d be here I might not have come. Whatever was going on with Lucie and Morgan, I had no interest, but I was still wounded deeply. As long as Lucie didn’t keep batting eyes at him or tossing her hair about as she was doing now, we would all get along fine.
I was surpris
ed how little interest Morgan showed her as he muttered a Hi in return. I stared back at Lucie to judge her reaction but she didn’t seem fazed by the rebuff.
Jez’s room was messier than my last visit. He’d been busy with his investigations, a stack of printed sheets sat on his desk. Rolls of discarded paper lay across the floor and books and more books were on every spare surface. A pile sat by his desk on the floor, towering as high as his chair, and the wall now contained a map of the area with other reference points also pinpointed.
I went and sat on a spare chair next to the bed, thankfully away from Lucie.
“So, what’s the latest?” Morgan said, still standing near the door. “What do we know?”
“I’ve tracked the majority of the purchases made by the Council in recent years and marked them,” he pointed to the map fixed with drawing pins. Red pen marks crossed the areas out-skirting the town.
“All of these have been bought by the council?” I got up and studied the map, amazed at the difference. The pins now counted at least forty, rather than the ten or twelve before.
“All. I’ve gone back through newspapers and town records I could find online; the library’s database is also quite extensive. This is everything in the last ten years.” He plonked a thick wedge of sheets into the centre of the floor.
“I don’t see any pattern,” Debbie pointed to the map.
“Have you checked on deaths in the town? You know, like Agatha Millard’s house?” said Morgan.
“It’s really difficult to get that information. Mostly the families sell after a death, if there’s no inheritance to contend with. The only way we could find it out is by checking the Solicitors in town, or breaking into the council offices. Otherwise, it’s just guess work.”
“What are you thinking?” I asked Morgan, still stood by the map.
“Well, so far, we think that the Council are buying these properties to rebuild, or restore. But what if it’s something else? What if they’re looking for something?”
“Like?” asked Lucie, as she discarded another folder on the floor.
“Wait!” I cried and grabbed a book from my bag and found the picture of the Warminster jewel, holding it open for them all to see.
“Something like this?” I said, pointing to the picture.
“The Warminster Jewel. Why would they want that?” Debbie said, puzzled. “What’s the significance?”
“The Warminster Jewel is held in Salisbury Museum, along with the Alfred Shield. They’re exhibited behind two impenetrable sheets of glass. However this is only the centre stone. There are three others which haven’t been found yet,” I informed the four puzzled faces now staring at me.
“I’m lost,” said Lucie. “What does our town councillor want with old jewellery?”
“Jez can look it up on the internet, but I think it’s what he’s after. He’s not just ripping people out of their homes, he’s excavating, digging to find these. And once he doesn’t find it? He covers up the evidence.”
Jez tapped the computer keys rapidly searching as I suggested.
“Here’s something,” he was scrolling down a page of mysterious artefacts; top of the list was the Holy Grail. “This page says that the jewels, if found, would be priceless in value. They have a curse attached though. The curse dates back to King Alfred’s son, who, when he took the title of King of England after Alfred’s death sought out a witch from Wessex to curse them. You see, the Warminster Jewel was created by his alchemist to prevent Alfred’s death, or to procure long life – one of the two. Either way, Edward, Alfred’s son, was too grieved at his father’s death and handed the cursed jewels to a local monastery to be buried in secret.”
“Why would they bury them around here?” said Debbie.
“Because this area in steeped in mysticism and the old pagan religions. When Alfred moved on after his battle, he didn’t return and instead left a small militia in case of further attacks. Nobody would suspect that the Jewels would remain after his death, and the long barrows, tumuli and stone circles in the area are more than a distraction to any grave robbers or tomb thieves.”
“Something doesn’t add up. I thought it was the shield that would bring him long life. Like the one we saw before?” I said, pulling at another book and opening it to the picture.
“Apparently the shield was just a symbol of the jewels, they held the real power. The alchemist Alfred sought, the one who created the jewels was also a master jeweller in his own right. That’s what his real specialty was,” said Jez.
“This isn’t connecting anything to do with your father,” said Morgan. “Rose, how did you know about the jewels?”
I thought quickly as I spoke, it all made sense now.
“I’ve just put the pieces together myself. When I was at the Watch I had an interesting chat with….some random person,” I thought I’d better not name names in the present company. “He told me that the three stars on a black background was the emblem for the Priory monks. The Priory fell into ruin and Longleat House was built on top. Anyway, as the story goes they lived life poorly owning nothing. But as a gesture an ancient king gave them a gift. He called it a ‘possession’ for them to keep safe should the time come. It has to be the jewels that he, possibly Alfred, gave to the monks. But what happened to them after the Order fell, no one has a clue.”
“Maybe that’s what my dad found out, the three stars at Imber could be the three jewels, but we’re no nearer. We still don’t know where they could be hidden.” Jez threw a book down onto his desk in despair, and bowed his head in his hands.
“Here,” said Debbie, her lap held three books already but she was reading from a very old leather bound volume. “This book has more information about the Priory that the jewels were left with. The Priory dates back to the 6th century, the priory was left in ruins when the monastic order was dissolved due to rumours of the monks practising witchcraft and black magic. It has to be our clue.”
“So, there’s no priory any more? What about the ruins? Can we access them?” said Morgan.
“No, it’s all gone completely.”
“Well, that doesn’t help at all,” said Lucie, in dismay.
“Ah, wait,” Debbie continued. “The priory did have a fish pond which is still on the Longleat grounds. It’s called the ‘Monks Pool’.”
“Monks practising black magic at Longleat, missing jewels, and the mural at Imber, now what’s the connection?” Jez said.
“Morgan, why don’t you mark them on the map as well,” I suggested, handing Morgan some pens.
He started marking new crosses. “Okay, so, Imber’s here. Longleat’s here. The battle of Edington’s here. Ah!” he exclaimed staring at the map.
“What is it?” I said, and we stood and looked intently at the markings. The crosses Morgan had drawn had become a triangle.
“You don’t think this is it, the Warminster triangle?” I said.
“But its dimensions don’t add up, look at the distance between each point,” Debbie pointed to the map.
“Also it doesn’t tally with our other marks, the land and houses that Ben Deverill’s bought.” I pointed out. “These lines are wrong, it’s incomplete.”
I was right. The previous crosses didn’t match. They were off, in different directions.
“I thought the triangle was supposed to be from Warminster, Shaftsbury and Salisbury?” Lucie said.
“I thought it was Cley Hill, Bratton and Scratchbury Hill,” Debbie added.
“Wait,” I moved in to look at the map closer. “They were all wrong.”
“What do you mean?” said Jez.
“Morgan, give me the pen.” I took it and marked a new point. Once the cross was on Stonehenge the new triangle matched almost exactly with Jez and Morgan’s previous markings.
“This is it,” I said, amazed at the discovery. “Jez, your dad realised that this was the triangle. That’s why he was at Arn Hill, before he disappeared. You have a clear view of all these areas except
for Stonehenge in the distance. And if you match this with the Ley Lines of the area,” I marked a straight line from Cley Hill to Arn Hill and followed it to Stonehenge. It divided the triangle precisely in half.
Debbie let out a gasp, followed by Lucie’s “Wow!”
“Your dad was on to something and Ben Deverill didn’t want it getting out,” I said to Jez. “We need to find him and soon.”
“Where are we going to look?” Jez asked. “The police still haven’t got any new leads. I don’t know where he could be.” His new optimism in our discovery was waning.
“What about the Deverill house? Debbie asked.
“Yeah. But Ben Deverill wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep him there. It would be too obvious,” Morgan said.
“So, where is it? Where do they live?” I said understatedly.
“Aiden has his own place but Ben lives near Arn Hill; it’s two minutes from our house. I’ll mark it just in case it’s useful.”
We exchanged a secret smile as I noticed that he said ‘our’, instead of ‘Daisy’s’ as I would have done.
“Okay, what about any friends or colleagues? He’s somewhere nearby. Come on, think, you all know this town better than me.”
My impatience was unravelling; they all jumped at my abrupt tone.
“What about in town? There are enough old shops, inns and pubs with basements,” Lucie suggested.
“What about abandoned buildings? Maybe some old army houses?” said Morgan.
“That just gives us another list again. My uncle says that half the buildings on the base are empty,” said Debbie.
“Debbie’s uncle is the Lieutenant Colonel of the army based here,” Morgan answered my unasked question.
“But Ben Deverill wouldn’t get that close, he tries to keep away from army matters,” said Debbie.
I coughed at that comment, nobody noticed except Morgan who hid a smile.
“What about Brokerswood? Don’t the Deverill’s have a chalet there?” Jez asked.
“Isn’t that where you work?” I said to Morgan. He nodded.
“Yes, at the timber mill. It’s a holiday park between Westbury and Warminster with nature trials, kiddie adventure parks and the like. The chalets and permanent caravans would be ideal. But it’s teeming with tourists right now,” Morgan said.
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