Chapter 21
I am a stranger in the earth (Psalm 119)
Septimus Surplice was not a courageous or active man. Not for him the posture of bold defiance, or the two-handed swing of the cudgel when wicked heads needed breaking. But he had his principles, he knew right from wrong, and like most meek men he had one or two tricks up his sleeve. As he had promised Pert some days before, he had written a letter to the head of his old seminary in St.Portius, and finally a reply had arrived. Before breakfast he took Pert into his room and read him the letter.
My Dear Surplice, it began ...
How very satisfactory to hear from you, and to know that you are happily placed in a worthwhile curacy. As you know, most of your classmates are rectors or vicars by now, and Gammon Major is a deacon, but temporal advancement is not for everybody and service to the Church can not be measured by mere rank.
The treasure you inquire about, could only be one thing. As you know, this diocese is a wealthy one, but its wealth is entirely in endowments and land rather than money or precious things. There has only ever been one treasure that I know of, and that was the fabled Hoard of Saint Erwald, lost these many centuries ago.
The Hoard was kept at the Monastery of St.Erwald. In times past these coasts were often infested by Moorish pirates, who came ashore and plundered the coastal settlements for gold, women and slaves, carrying them off to heathen parts. Bolder and bolder they grew until, meeting little resistance, they assembled a large fleet and landed in the north of the diocese. They marched inland, looting and burning as they went, and soon invested the Monastery of St.Erwald.
Before they were overwhelmed and put to the sword, the monks divided the Hoard and sent it away to all four corners of the diocese for safe keeping. After that the records reveal little. The pirates tired of the rain and cold and went home. The treasure remained hidden in different places. We know that some of it was lost when the Great Keep at Castle Fortitude burned down in suspicious circumstances. Much of it must have been purloined and sold or melted down by
greedy clerics, or even by greedy bishops if they could find any of it, for we have not always been blessed with such a saintly leader as we are now.
So I would guess that the rumours you mention refer to some small part of that Hoard, sent into your remote fastness for safety and there forgotten. It is just as well that they are only rumours, for if there were any substance to them, it would be a long and tedious and divisive business to establish ownership.
That is all I can tell you. You may not have heard that I am to retire soon. My Lord the Bishop has granted me a pleasant house in the cathedral close, the Widow Makepiece has kindly agreed to keep house for me, and I plan to spend my days completing my twelve-volume History of the Diocese from 1520 to 1650, growing roses, and practising the art of pipe smoking, a pleasure I have only recently discovered, for as long as the Good Lord shall spare me before He gathers me to his eternal garden where I understand mature horse dung is available at knock-down prices.
Until then I remain,
Affectionately your proud Friend and Mentor,
Aloysius Flitch, Canon in Ordinary
The Black Joke Page 21