The Keeper's Cup: A Controversial Archaeological Thriller

by Ken Fry

  * * *

  The six stood close, their clasped hands forming a semicircle. On his own and at the centre, stood Kelvin or Iseldir – as he would call himself this day. His arms were raised high and held the staff. His prayers or incantations were inaudible, although his followers seemed to be muttering in unison. Above them arose the noonday sun. Both Fergy and Miriam were guest observers and not required to participate. The incantations to Mother Nature came to a stop, leaving only Iseldir’s clear and powerful voice echoing around the grove and across the waters. The other Druids bowed their heads.

  Miriam did so, too. It all seemed so familiar to her. She had no difficulty following or understanding it.

  Iseldir intoned in a voice that rang around the trees. “In early winter, the skies become darker and the smell of fresh snow fills the air. Take a few minutes to think about the fact that even if the skies are cold and dark, it is only temporary, because the sun will return to us after the winter solstice. See the grey skies overhead preparing the way for the bright sun soon to come. See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way for the world to awake once more.

  See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way of the longest night of the year.

  See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way for the sun to finally return, bringing with it light and warmth.”

  He banged his staff hard on the ground three times. Then, without any warning, the ear- splitting sound of a howling wolf close by filled the entire area. It was immediately followed by a savage bout of snarling and shrieks.

  Everyone jumped as they looked around with wild eyes. Their expressions reflected concern and fear.

  “What the hell was that?” yelled the professor, putting a protective arm around Miriam. “It sounds as if the bishop’s wolves have emigrated!”

  The others tightened their semicircle and Kelvin yelled out. “There are no wild animals or wolves around here. This is some kind of prank! Come out, whoever you are!”

  He got a response. The crack of three rapid gunshots echoed around the grove. The bullets seemed to be aimed at the trees as large splinters fell from them. Every one of them dived to the ground, pressed flat and not daring to look up.

  Howling, snarling, and gunshots followed more maniacal laughter.

  Cracker’s party piece, learnt from a magician in jail, worked as always – without fail. He couldn’t resist it. With that, he ducked low, keeping out of view while he blasted off three more shots. But this time, much closer at them and into the sand, spraying them with plumes of dirt and shale. He knew it would be a while before they moved. He pushed his bulldog face over the edge to look. Then, stooping low, he headed back to his vehicle.

  I right enjoyed that. What a laugh. That’s worth a few drinks tonight!

  It was a few minutes before the prostrate figures dared lift their heads. Whoever it was had gone.

  “Who and what the hell was that?” Iseldir was fuming.

  “It’s not every day you get shot at even if just for fun. I think I know who it was,” Miriam said as she brushed off the dirt from her clothes.

  “Who?” Kelvin demanded.

  “That man who was with Vincenzo when we were here last. He was wearing a pink T-shirt then. His name is Cracker. I swear I saw that as he slipped away. He’s a pathological screwball and where he’s concerned, his personal elevator never reaches the top floors… if you get my meaning.”

  “Perfectly. What are we going to do about it? Do we report it to the police?”

  “I don’t want them snooping around here,” Fergy warned.

  “What about my comrades, bards, and ovates here? They look pretty shaken.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Fergy said. “We all need to think about this and it’s not a decision we make in the heat of the moment. We need to get back to the hotel, clean up and meet in the bar later. We can discuss it then. Yes, I agree, it’s serious and throws considerable doubt on the credibility of our esteemed Eminence, Cardinal dodgy Nicholas. The pope will hear of this.” He paused. “Any objections to leaving now?”

  There were none.

  “Let’s go then.”

  In single file, they made their way back to the vehicle.

  23

  Miriam was quiet on the short journey back to Wells. What conversation there was remained taut, and an atmosphere akin to a dead man walking hung around them. Thirty minutes later, they disembarked, but Kelvin’s acolytes declined to join in. They promised they would not inform the police unless otherwise asked.

  Within minutes, Miriam was back in the warmth and safety of her room. Without hesitation, she stripped off her hiking clothes and underwear and leapt into the joys of a hot shower.

  Bliss.

  Standing still, she allowed the water to send its gentle cascade over her tilted head and down her back and breasts. She held this pose as part of Kelvin’s words again infiltrated into her meditative consciousness.

  “In early winter, the skies become darker and the smell of fresh snow fills the air. Take a few minutes to think about the fact that even if the skies are cold and dark, it is only temporary, because the sun will return to us after the winter solstice. See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way for the bright sun soon to come. See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way for the world to awake once more.

  See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way of the longest night of the year.

  See the grey skies overhead, preparing the way for the sun to finally return, bringing with it light and warmth.”

  She knew them by heart. It seemed as if she had heard them many times in the past. She closed her eyes and the only sound to be heard was the comforting pitter-patter of water, its background hiss, and the drips onto the mint green, ceramic tiled flooring.

  The words continued running through her mind and she knew she did not want them to cease. Another image began to form. She was unable to grasp what it was.

  Don’t try, just let it be. It will come to you.

  She did just that.

  It resonated femininity, kindness, warmth, and fearlessness. Miriam was transfixed. She no longer felt or heard the shower water. Another sound, of wind blowing across her naked body, replaced the noise of water… and her vision was fixed on the image in her mind. It would not materialize. She was trying too hard.

  She released her anxiety and relaxed. The image fluttered. For a moment it looked like a woman, who appeared to be carrying something. The vision vanished almost as soon as it had appeared. The noise of the water once more filled her mind.

  She placed her hands over her ears and switched off the shower.

  What was that? This project is getting to me.

  With haste, she dried herself with a towel and dressed in jeans and a roll necked, vermillion red jumper. She had chosen that tint because it was identical to that used in the murals of ancient Pompeii. Fitting, she had thought, for an archaeologist.

  As she straightened up, the imagery from her shower remained with her. She was happy about that, but it startled her. She remembered feeling odd the first time she had entered Kelvin’s sacred spot. It was almost as if there was nothing about the place she did not know. There was something happening here, and her scientific self found it hard to accept… but it was real. It had happened, and she could still feel and sense it. It was, she thought, more powerful than the howling wolf or gunshots.

  She turned her thoughts to Kelvin. What of him? She now realised that she had sensed something about him ever since they had first met. Sitting in the sofa, she glanced at her watch. There was plenty of time. She let her mind freewheel. As she did, images of Kelvin appeared in her mind.

  The freewheeling continued.

  The images looked blurred as they flicked by, frame by frame in what seemed to be a historical succession of close group related Gestalts. She thought this from her training. The Gestalt law of proximity states that objects or shapes that are close to one another appear to form groups. Even if the shapes, sizes, and obje
cts are radically different, they will appear as a group if they are close. That was what was happening in her mind. She perceived Kelvin through a time frame as a druid, an ovate and bard. This wasn’t just the present day. The line of images, like snapshot photos, appeared to stretch back infinitely. He never looked the same, but her inner being knew it was him. She began to resist. It was out of this world and she didn’t understand what was happening to her.

  She started gasping for breath as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “Stop! Stop, please stop!” Miriam stood up abruptly and her hands clutched around her head, shaking it in anger.

  “What’s going on? Why is this happening?”

  Her breaths began to settle as she regained control and normality once more.

  She rushed over to the mini bar and heaved it open. She hadn’t been drinking, but she was going to now, and before heading to meet Fergy and Kelvin in the bar. She poured the miniature scotch into a glass tumbler and downed the lot in one long double gulp.

  Twenty seconds later, she felt as if her stomach had been set alight. With her senses reeling and in overload, she headed down to the bar to find the other two.

  * * *

  Kelvin and Fergy were in deep conversation when she hurried in. Her cheeks felt hot, but she didn’t waste time. “Mine’s a large scotch, please, if you are ordering, Fergy.”

  He looked surprised. “Hey, what’s got into you? You okay? You look flustered.”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. “I thought we were here to discuss today’s events, not my health.”

  Fergy looked perplexed. “Okay, don’t bite my head off.” He ordered a large scotch and it was soon delivered and placed in front of her.

  “Miriam, what I thought we should do is inform the pope about what happened. We leave the police out of this as that could put a hold on our activities for a while. This is what I have written and Kelvin’s happy about it.

  After reading it through, she replied. “If you do that and the pope takes action, Cardinal Nicholas will know that we have told him, and his and our cover will be blown away.”

  “Ah! I missed that. I could ask the pope not to reveal anything, but just so that he’s aware of what’s happening over here. I also want to inform him that we have a consignment of hi-tech equipment due to arrive tomorrow. That we’re hopeful we’d discover more evidence of whether Christ and his family actually lived around here. If all goes wonderfully well, we may even find this mythical cup.” He looked at both of them. “Are we agreed then?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. I’ll send it now.” He spent a minute on his android phone to review his email. “There. He should be receiving it any moment now.”

  There was a momentary silence as each of them focused on their drinks. Fergal was about to speak when the ring tones of his cell phone started up. He glanced at the screen. “It’s the university. I’ll answer it over there.” He stood and walked out of earshot.

  Miriam was aware of the silence between her and Kelvin. She had never been alone with him before. Looking up at him, she saw he was staring directly at her. With a bemused look, she asked, “Why are you staring at me like that, my good druid friend?”

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.” A somber expression wandered across his face. “I need to say something.”

  How odd, Miriam thought. I know what he’s about to say. “Say what’s on your mind then.” Her words snapped out too fast as she attempted to conceal her deeper perspective.

  “You know, don’t you?” His deep voice cut through and undermined her effort to block what she knew he was referring to. “Miriam, we don’t have much time, so don’t try to hide what I know you saw.”

  “You know what I saw? How could you? What are you talking about?” Her response gave her away. It was too late to retract.

  “Never mind how I know, but what you saw from this time, stretching back into the distant past… is true. You saw it only dimly. It will become clearer. I have waited so long for this to happen.” Kelvin paused, never taking his eyes off her.

  A weird feeling of humility and wonderment passed through her. She stared up at him in open-mouthed astonishment. The tears in his eyes were soft and had a magnificence about them.

  “It has happened to me many times, and I always knew there was someone else who sees what I have seen.”

  “But…” She stopped short and went silent as Fergy strode back into view.

  He noticed the silence. “Hey, are you two holding a séance?” Fergy’s breezy tones broke the spell. “That was the Uni. Equipment’s arriving early first thing tomorrow, and then to the Tor we must go!”

  24

  Inspector Rizzo produced his police badge and ID card and the door was opened by a uniformed Swiss Guard to allow him in. He was ushered into a palatial waiting room area, in which nobody was waiting. He was directed to sit on a velvet covered armchair seat. He did, and feeling unsettled by the grandiose surroundings, he prepared to wait. Glancing again at his watch, he noted that he was fifteen minutes early. Throughout his life, he had always been an ‘in-time’ person and had never been late for an appointment. It was a fact he took pride in, and could never understand lateness, other than it being the hallmark of a disorganized and even disrespectful individual.

  The air around him, in contrast to the oppressive Roman humidity outside, felt refreshingly cool. The atmosphere was enhanced by the black and white, diagonally tiled marble floor. To his right, a staircase with gold ormolu rails and an elaborately carved bannister wound its way upwards in a seemingly never-ending spiral. It’s like a fancy version of Jacob’s Ladder ascending into the heavens. He laughed at the thought in silence. The whole structure was overlooked by awesome paintings, in frames that one alone, would be worth well beyond ten years of his total yearly salary. Lifting his eyes, he could see the entire domed ceiling was decorated with a heavenly scene – replete with angels in poses so favoured by early artists. Centrally placed was the imposing figure of a judgmental Christ ushering the good souls to his right and the wretched failures to his left side. Rizzo could only guess at their inevitable and horrendous fate.

  If Rizzo was planning to deliberate on the morality of the scene, he was cut short by the sharp rap of polished leather shoes issuing a clipping sound, but out of synchronicity, down the stairs. He didn’t need a second glance. It was Cardinal Nicholas with his characteristic limp and walking cane.

  With a condescending smile on his paper-thin lips, he strode forward as best he could with his hand outstretched. “Ispettore, sono così felice rivedert.”

  Rizzo gave an inward jolt. He wasn’t happy to see the cardinal again. The only time that should happen is when he pulled him in for further questioning. He shook the cardinal’s hand without enthusiasm. “Thank you,” he replied in English, “and I appreciate the opportunity of being able to speak to His Holiness.”

  “It’s all arranged and you two will have total privacy. This way, Inspector.”

  Feeling like a bemused schoolboy in an ice cream parlour, Rizzo dutifully followed the long, out of rhythm strides of the lanky cardinal. Sweeping through various anterooms and corridors, they approached a pair of massive ornate doors, richly imbued with gold decorative scrolls and swirls. On each side of them stood two impassive looking Swiss Guards holding long pikes. They didn’t fool Rizzo. He knew from personal experience that beneath the finery, each packed concealed but devastating automatic weaponry.

  As they drew close to the guards, the cardinal paused, gave the guards a polite nod, turned to his right, walked a few yards further on, and then turned to face a blank wall. “We are here, Inspector.”

  Rizzo creased his brows in bafflement. “We are?” There was nothing there.

  Nicholas ran his hand down a thin wooden strip that reached from floor to ceiling. He paused and appeared to apply pressure.

  A voice answered almost from nowhere. “Come posso aiutare?”

  “It is Cardinal Nicholas,” he
replied in English. “Thank you for your offer of help. I have here Inspector Rizzo from The Polizia di Stato. He is expected by His Holiness.”

  “Un momento per favore.”

  Rizzo looked inquiringly as an audible click from somewhere sounded and the thin strip appeared to move sideways, revealing a concealed opening with cameras and audio communication devices. They seemed to be ignored as the door swung open and a disembodied voice spoke. “Prego entra.”

  “Inspector, His Holiness is waiting. A Swiss guard will be with you at all times. The Holy Father never sees anybody alone. I will take my leave of you.” He bowed slightly, turned, and limped away.

  “Grazie.” Rizzo took a deep breath and walked in.

  He was surprised to find himself in a smallish room, which appeared to be humbly furnished as opposed to the opulence outside. At the far end, behind a window, Pope Adrian was seated at a desk. There was a broad smile on his face. He stood and extended his ringed hand. Without realising, Rizzo did as thousands had done before him. He knelt and kissed the Fisherman’s ring. It was something he had sworn he would never do.

  Pope Adrian turned to the Swiss Guard. “Will you please go? If you must, wait outside the door.”

  The guard stammered. “But this is unheard of, Your Holiness. My strict instructions…”

  “I am in charge of all matters here. So please leave or I may have to report your refusal to obey my order.”

  The guard bowed his head and scuttled away.

  Pope Adrian turned to Rizzo. “There are matters that don’t mind being overheard and some that do. This is one of them, I suspect. Please be seated, Inspector.” The pontiff’s voice was kind and soothing to hear. “It is not often we get calls from the police. How may we help you?”

  Rizzo felt a flutter in his stomach he couldn’t remember last experiencing… butterflies. “Your Holiness, thank you for seeing me. I’m here for a number of reasons. The first is that I am investigating the death of the English Bishop, Vincent Fisher. No doubt you know all about this?”