by Gill Jepson
“Don’t call me daft! I’m not a baby either; I’m fed up with all this! I’m going home!” she flounced off, banging the door behind her.
They stared at the door in disbelief.
“Now look what you’ve done!” exclaimed Rebecca. She followed Megan outside.
As she turned into the path there was no sign of her. Rebecca was concerned, where had her friend gone so quickly?
Megan walked briskly up the path into the square, muttering under her breath. They were never going to solve this stupid quest. It was too scary anyway, what with monks and magpies and goodness knows what! She scuffed the new laid snow with her boots. Her gaze fell on a set of larger prints. Looking around sharply, she could see the prints had followed theirs to the church. Fear scorched her throat like acid and she could feel every cell of her body tingle.
Suddenly; a noise to her left attracted her attention. The castle door was ajar and the ringed handle was swinging. She hesitated; she stuffed down the fear as far as it would go and braced herself to go inside and listen at the bottom of the stairs. A noise echoed from above, slowly she crept up the stone steps, aware of every footstep. The rooms were empty, she noted with relief. She reached the top floor and could see no evidence of what had made the noise. From the corner of her eye she noticed a heavy curtain moving in the corner. She tiptoed towards it and grasped the thick material, revealing a heavy wooden door with a huge lock and metal ring. The door, opened onto the roof. Who was a baby now? She’d show Danny…
The two boys shrugged and ran after Rebecca. Suddenly, they heard a yell. The three of them followed the direction of the cry and to their amazement saw Megan waving from the top of the tower. She waved frantically and was shouting something, but they couldn’t make it out. Her head just peeped above the parapet and her hands waved wildly, pointing down at them. Abruptly, she disappeared. The children looked at each other.
“Could you see that? I thought I saw someone behind her,” said Danny. “What’s she playin’ at going up there on her own?”
“I dunno… we’d better get up there!” replied George.
They caught up with Rebecca who ran into the castle just ahead of them. They pounded up the stone staircase, panting for breath, reaching the top level exhausted. The door was wide open and snow was flurrying through the gap. They rushed onto the roof to find nothing but footprints.
“Where the hell is she?” asked Danny, exasperated.
“She must be round the other side… we didn’t pass her on the stairs,” answered Rebecca. George ran round the roof space. There was no sign of her.
“Look!” he exclaimed, “There are her footprints…” he followed them along the wall, like Sherlock Holmes. “But… someone else was here too! Look!”
They looked at the girl’s prints, and could see larger ones all around, finishing in a swirl of disturbed snow, indicating a scuffle.
“Oh no! Someone was here! And they’ve taken her!” Rebecca’s face crumpled with emotion.
“Or chased her! She might’ve got away!” said George hopefully.
Danny was leaning over the edge of the parapet and looking down to the street below.
“She ain’t down there! But look!”
George and Rebecca approached the battlement walls and peered over them. The snow lay in a fresh white carpet across the small courtyard below. Below them was the imprint of an old grille in the cobbles. The snow had melted and left the image of the round grate, ornately fashioned centuries before, revealing a star shape.
“A star! It must be a clue – too much of a coincidence otherwise!” said George.
“There must be warmth coming from under it to melt the snow. What’s under it?”
“Lets go and see… maybe Meg went down to find it too!” suggested Rebecca.
They retreated from the roof, unaware of the fluttering, sleek, black wings above, as a sole magpie landed on the telephone wire opposite.
Wet footprints on the top of the steps had gone unnoticed before in their haste to find Megan. The prints finished at the heavily curtained wall. George dragged back the curtain, revealing another door, missed in their previous search.
“Shall we go in?” whispered Rebecca, nervously.
“We can’t do ’owt else, lass, can we?” said George.
The door creaked open revealing a narrow spiral staircase. It plunged into darkness and none of them relished the dangerous descent. The spiral disorientated them and they clung to the wall, to keep their balance. As their eyes became accustomed to the light they could see a chink of dim light from below. A damp, earthy smell infected their nostrils, suggesting a place unseen by daylight for many a year. The stairs ended abruptly and they cannoned into each other, making Rebecca almost lose her balance. A small door was visible; cold, dank air touched their faces with long wintry fingers. The faint light exposed a large space stretching far beneath the tower, heavy shadows lurking beneath the arches. Boxes were stacked up against the walls, so it was hard to judge how large the cellar was.
“It’s like a cave… I don’t like caves… they make me claustrophobic,” whispered Rebecca.
“Meg… Megan… MEG-AN!” shouted Danny. “She ain’t ’ere… she’d have called out by now!” he concluded.
“Where do we start next? We still looking for stars… or is it swans again?” asked George.
“Dunno! But let’s get weaving; I don’t care for it down here!” shuddered Rebecca.
Shafts of ethereal light filtered through the narrow holes of the grille they had seen from above. George instinctively went to stand beneath it.
He reached up to investigate it with his fingers.
“It’s a bit hard to see but I can feel a pattern…”
“Here! I’ve got my mobile! We can use its light to see,” cried Danny.
“Well, don’t leave me here!” shouted Rebecca, scrambling through the boxes to reach them.
A small indented star was just visible in the metal of the grille.
“Look! One of its points is longer than the others.”
“Where is it pointing to?” asked Danny.
“Towards the wall at the back – lets ’ave a look?” answered George.
George scrambled towards the back wall, shrouded in darkening shadow. There were arches stretching along its length, though each one solid with large sandstone blocks.
“So that’s a dead end then!” stated Danny.
“It can’t be or the sign wouldn’t be pointing this way!” argued Rebecca.
She started to look closely at the walls, tracing her palms across each block.
“What’s this? I can feel grooves in the stone… bring the mobile closer Danny!”
Nothing happened, but the light from the mobile revealed a delicately carved swan, so small, it was hardly visible.
“We must be in the right place!” Rebecca said triumphantly.
George crouched and placed his palm on top of the swan carving, pressing, hitting and pushing it. It did not move. He explored the stones around it and again nothing happened. He knelt on the floor and explored the stones at the base of the wall.
“Look, here on the slab, just below the carving!”
They inspected his find obediently. In the dim light they could just make out another carving at the edge of the paving slab. This time there was a relief carving of a star.
He touched the star carefully, to see what might happen. Nothing did, so he pressed down on it with his foot. Again, nothing. So he stamped hard. A grinding noise rumbled around the cellar. George toppled backwards as the slab slid back, revealing steps leading downwards.
“Oh no! We don’t have to go down there, do we?” groaned Rebecca. She had just become used to the damp, dark cellar.
“We have to Beccs, it’s the only place Megan can have gone… she’s not in the cellar, is she?”
The friends peered down into the gloom below. The steps vanished into it. They edged nervously along the uneven floor. The light was mut
ed, making the narrow, low-ceilinged corridor oppressive.
As their eyes adapted to the weak light, they could see the walls were hewn from bare rock. Rebecca huddled close to George, unsure of what lay ahead. The quiet was suddenly shattered as Rebecca squealed and jumped about, waving her hands in front of her face. She had walked into a long thread from a spider’s web. She grabbed Danny and gripped him like a vice.
“Gerroff! It’s only a spider’s web…” cried Danny.
“It’s horrible down here… it’s dark and spooky and who knows what’s in front of us… and now there’s spiders too!” she wailed, “I hate spiders! Urgh!”
“Oh give over, it’s not so bad… we must be coming out soon,” encouraged George, “Remember we’re on a hill, so we can’t go much further if we’re going up, can we?”
The air was foul and stale and did nothing to alleviate the fear that Rebecca was already consumed with. It reminded her of being on the tube train in London… she hated being enclosed below ground. The tunnel emerged into an archway; leading to yet another cellar, similar to the one they had just left.
“What’s that noise?” gasped Rebecca. All her worst nightmares were coming to life!
A high pitched sound, like a whirring top, emerged from the shadows. They stopped and held their breath. Something was moving in the far corner of the cellar. Nothing was visible, but the noise was becoming louder.
There was a flurry of movement as small bats swooped slickly through the cold air towards them. Rebecca screamed and Danny and George protected their heads with their arms. They glided past them down the passage towards the other cellar.
“Urgh!” George shuddered. “Come on… we’ve got to find Meg…”
They walked tentatively into the cellar, discovering another door. The silence was stagnant. Small scratching noises shattered the silence. The unearthly scrambling noise amplified behind them, sharp claws gouging and scraping the floor. Panic overtook them all and they struggled to heave open the large oak door, all the time looking furtively behind them to see what horrors were coming their way. To their dismay there were at least a dozen small, monkey like gargoyles, scrabbling across the floor towards them. George and Danny pushed the door harder, banging and pushing frantically. Rebecca hammered on the wood, desperately trying to open it wide enough to escape through. Finally, it gave and George and Rebecca scraped through quickly, hauling Danny with them. Two of the creatures seized his leg.
“HELP! They’ve got me… Aaargh! ” he cried, tears pricking the back of his eyes.
He kicked hard, trying to shake off the wizened animals gripping his trousers. George joined in, punching and pushing. A creature fell backwards and as it hit the floor it shattered into a million pieces of sandstone and dust. The other animals were incensed by this and renewed their efforts, shrieking like banshees. George and Danny made a supreme effort to shut the door, closing it with a thud. One of the gargoyles reached through the door as it shut, its scrawny arm shattering into a million stone shards and dust. The boys gasped with relief as they leant against the door.
“Come on! This is getting dangerous. We need to find Megan and the treasure, quick!” George declared.
They turned to mount the steps leading away from the cellar. They entered the under croft of the church, hunting for signs and clues that Megan had been this way too. Although there was no trace of the girl, something else caught George’s eye.
“We’re back in the church!”
A large, relief carving of a bishop holding his crosier, was clearly visible in the half light.
“There’s a swan, on the front of his robe… is it Cuthbert?”
George inspected the carving. Rebecca stepped forward and reached out to touch the swan, inset was a design inlaid with metal. She pressed gently and felt the metal move. With a little effort she was able to manipulate it and it came free. The metal disc revealed its pattern as it lay in her palm.
“This has got to be the key, the one the monk mentioned,” said George.
“But I thought the church was rebuilt in Victorian times? It can’t be the same as in Henry VIII’s time, can it?” argued Danny.
“I think the passage and the undercroft are part of the old church! It must have been an escape route for the monks. They had to protect themselves from Scottish raiders.”
“They’d have been better protecting themselves from Henry!” said Rebecca cynically.
George led the way through the cluttered cellar, pushing past stacks of chairs and broken pews until he reached the door to the church. The air was electric with anticipation. Eventually they emerged into the church.
“We might be safer here,” whispered Rebecca, “Maybe those things can’t come into a holy place?” she added hopefully.
“Don’t bet on it…” Danny responded in an equally hushed voice.
George beckoned them, tiptoeing down the aisle to the back of the church. It was silent and the windows cast an eerie translucent glow across the abandoned pews. A wintry light played up and down the aisles like icy threads frozen in time.
George paused at the font, moving to where they had seen the abbot place the treasure. He knelt, examining the stone panels. He fingered the carving and a smile broke across his face like sunshine on a cloudy day.
“Look! It’s the abbey emblem… and I think the disc fits over it. All the bumpy bits match the holes in it!”
George placed the disc on top of the carving, manoeuvring it until it fitted perfectly. He pushed it down and then twisted it; slowly it began to turn. The lower section of the panel rose, revealing a secret chamber in the bottom of the font.
A package lay inside.
“It’s now or never…” George drew it carefully from its hiding place.
The package was heavy with the dust of centuries. George placed it carefully on the floor. Rebecca stared and Danny took a deep breath. They could not believe the treasure was in their grasp at last.
“Shall I open it?” he asked in a whisper.
“Watch out! Don’t let him!” a squeal from behind a pillar made them spin around, just in time to see Megan, held by Mr Steele.
“That will be my privilege, young man!”
Steele and Megan had appeared from nowhere.
“If you want your little friend back, I suggest you put the package on the floor. Now!”
The boys flashed a look at each other. Steele smiled menacingly.
“I wouldn’t do anything rash, if I were you! Put the package down!”
There was no alternative but to obey.
He pushed Megan forcefully towards them, causing George and Danny to stumble and fall. Rebecca ran towards the parcel, but Steele was quicker than a scorpion’s sting. He swept up the package and made a dart for the door in one easy, fluid movement.
The children scrambled to take up the chase, a scratching sound heralded the arrival of several skittering gargoyles, scurrying like spiders along the aisles towards them. Stone ground against stone as the carved creatures crunched along the floor. George ducked behind the font. The screaming assault came from all sides and they tried to fight the creatures off with anything that came to hand. Danny clunked two with the brass ewer; they instantly exploded into rubble and dust at a touch. This emboldened Rebecca and George, grabbing Megan’s arm, they rushed for the door; the creatures shrieked with a high pitched whine as they launched themselves at the children once more. George hit out as hard as he could, with some candlesticks, Rebecca and Megan with the heavy, brass collection plate. With each strike, gargoyles smashed against the walls and floor, shattering, like falling Christmas baubles. Finally, they escaped through the church door and onto the path.
The snow was still falling heavily, everything silent and muffled. The street and the square were empty. They looked round to see where Steele had gone, but there was no sign of him.
“He’s there!” Danny pointed down the hill.
“He’s going down the ginnel, let’s get after him.”
>
“No! We can go past the Brown Cow! It’s a short cut!” said Rebecca.
They slipped and slid in the soft snow as they went, all the way to the bottom of the hill. Steele dashed past the pinfold, racing towards the “Haggs”. His heavy burden slowed him down and George and Danny gained on him. He disappeared into the short tunnel under the railway line. The going was hard, the snow quite deep by now, covering the path, obscuring the ditches and the dips. Megan stumbled and fell and was immediately pulled to her feet again by Rebecca.
Steele fled swiftly along the narrow snow covered path, his coat flying behind like a black sail. Birds above them swooped, screeching alarmingly, black and blue feathers blotting the white backdrop of the snow. George and Danny threw sticks and rocks to chase them away. Their anxiety rose like a tsunami, time was running out…
“We’ve got to stop him! He’s going to the abbey he’ll escape back to his own time from there! ” shouted George, urgently.
They ran on and on, panting, chests bursting with the effort. Steele turned towards the west gate. They darted across the main road, dipping and dodging in and out of the slow moving line of cars, struggling to make it up the hill.
As George and Rebecca skidded to the top of the path, Steele fell. He lost his grip on the package and it flew into the crisp, cold air, suspended for a brief moment. George leaped forward to catch it, as easily as if it was a rugby ball. He rolled as he caught the parcel and slid a few feet across the snow, ploughing a furrow. Steele slowly rose from his landing place, looking stunned.
George recovered from his fall, clutching the parcel. Steele faced him and his top lip curled back menacingly. He glowered at the boy and stretched out his hand to retrieve the treasure.
“You will return my property boy! NOW!” he snarled.
“NEVER! It belonged to the abbey and it should be somewhere safe!” retorted George.
Steele lunged at George and tried to grab the precious treasure. Danny was spurred into action and rushed to his aid. The girls glanced at each other and simultaneously lunged at the defenceless man. A struggle ensued and each one battled hard to protect George and the sacred treasure. The man’s face reddened with fury, he howled like a wounded animal, but Danny and the two girls pounded him relentlessly.