The Cistercian Conspiracy

by Gill Jepson

  He grabbed the object and tried to bring it out but it wouldn’t budge. After minutes of scrabbling about, the object moved back, disappearing into the back of the wall. A grinding noise arose from the base of the well and the water level began to drop and flow through a small culvert, which had been revealed. A sluice gate had lifted and the water drained out. Within seconds George was standing in mud, soaking wet and cold. He shivered, more through cold than anticipation. As he knelt to look beneath the culvert he espied a small fall of bricks further along the tunnel.

  “Are you safe young lad?” cried Lee. She was beginning to regret allowing them access to this well.

  *

  There was no reply. George had scrambled into the small tunnel to where the pile of bricks lay. They were covered with clay and slime and the whole place smelt damp and unpleasant. He picked through them gingerly until he reached the base of the tunnel. Nothing! He could hear the others above, but he moved further on. It was very dark and he could hear gushing water somewhere along the water system. The tunnel dropped in height and he banged his head on a block of stone. He rubbed his head and instinctively put his hand above to feel what had hit him. The stone was smooth with the constant passage of water over years, except… for a carving. He didn’t need to see it to know what it was. His heart skipped a beat and he pushed the brick. It gradually moved and slid to one side. At the same time something fell from the gap above and hit him on the forehead with a clunk. As he retrieved it from the mud, he knew exactly what it was. Before he had the time to enjoy his triumph he heard a rushing noise ahead of him. He panicked momentarily as he realised that the water was rising and gurgling around his feet. The culvert was filling up again. He scrambled to the exit as fast as he could, clutching the prize tightly. He fell into the well and grabbed onto the bucket, calling to them to haul him up instantly. James, Rob and Lee mustered all their strength and wound up the rope as fast as they could. Water splashed around the interior of the well and as they lifted a bedraggled boy over the wall the level had risen to half way up the shaft. Had George not managed to get out as quickly as he did the end could have been very different.

  *

  Breathless and tired he released the object from his clutch and it rolled onto the slate floor. The clink of metal was unmistakeable and it came to a halt at Rob’s feet. It was heavily tarnished, but the bejewelled chalice must have been spectacular in its day. Everyone stood transfixed. James’ blue eyes glistened with unspilt tears. They had found it at last!

  The two boys were elated and jumped around with happiness. They thumped each other on the back and even James laughed a deep rich laugh. He turned to Lee who was as pleased as they to discover something so amazing. He took her hands in his and peered into her eyes, she was not much shorter than James, being fairly tall for a lady of her time.

  “You have done us and the abbey a great service Miss Sheriff. I will not forget this quickly, thank you so much.”

  He turned to the boys and picked up the chalice.

  “You will need to make haste. This must be removed to your time and place… it is what you came for after all…”

  “Ha! Well, I think we’ve changed history!” said Rob, “You said in a…”

  The words were strangled and James never heard them. A gusting wind embraced them and Rob and George were separated from both James and Lee, who stood fixed to the spot. The vortex of energy grew and the images of the two Victorians faded, James still clutching the chalice, and then they disappeared.

  *

  The boys grew giddy and spun uncontrollably round and round. When they thought they could bear it no longer they suddenly found themselves back on the grass at Abbot’s Wood. The only indication that their adventure had happened was the dreadful state of George’s clothes. They were stunned and silent. To have the chalice in their grasp and then to lose it was unbearable. The efforts of the day were wasted and had moved them no nearer to their goal.

  *

  They both sat for a time, glumly contemplating the situation.

  “So what the heck do we do now?” asked George.

  “I haven’t a clue-literally!” sighed Rob. “Looks like it’s back to the drawing board… we’ll have to try and decipher this letter James left us!”

  Both boys were near to tears. It was so frustrating and disappointing.

  “Do you think we will see him again?”

  “I dunno… seems unlikely. He must’ve written the letter after we found the chalice,” replied George sadly.

  *

  So they had not only lost the chalice, but their old friend too. It was too much to bear. This was nearly as bad as when Granddad had died. Rob gulped back a tear, which threatened to escape. That would not be cool. Especially in front of this kid! Rob rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and down his jeans. He looked over to George. His face looked as sad as he did. He was about to speak when his vision blurred. He rubbed his eyes again and then realised that it wasn’t his eyes that were at fault, it was George. He was fuzzy and was disappearing slowly but surely. The lad tried to say something, but Rob could not hear a single word. A sharp pinprick of light was all that was left. Its intensity seared his very heart and he sat staring at the place where his young friend had been for a while.

  The dusk was drawing in and he stood up to leave. A sole magpie watched from a tree as he left the woods. A strange cawing echoed through the wood, heralding the departure and was carried through the air, relayed from one magpie to another, monitoring his journey home.

  CHAPTER 10

  CHRISTMAS IS COMING

  Rob had seen nothing of George, the monk or James since the end of the summer. He had been on the verge of telling Nate that he knew there was something going on, but as time went by he dismissed this as a bad idea. He felt foolish and could hardly believe that he hadn’t dreamt it. On top of all this the Sixth form was really hard work and he was tied up with essays and other stuff he could really do without. Nate kept himself to himself and even Rebecca seemed a bit cagey… both of them were up to their necks in this strange stuff he was sure. Autumn drifted into early winter without remark and everyone went about their own business, paths crossing but not intruding.

  *

  One thing he did notice however, was that every time he left the house a magpie, or sometimes two were perched like sentinels on the tree in the front garden and often he spotted a solitary raven as well. He wasn’t a fan of birds and it unnerved him each day when he saw them staring with their nasty beady eyes. They did seem to congregate around their house in large numbers. He had dragged Sam up to Abbot’s Wood on numerous occasions to see if there was any hint of the boy or James, but he was constantly disappointed. Christmas was approaching fast and everyone was busy with plays and events so again there was no time to pin his brother or sister down. He grew despondent and began to think the quest would never be solved. He surely couldn’t have dreamt it all could he?

  *

  He had been roped into attending Rebecca’s concert at Dalton church and was not in a good mood. He sulked all the way up there in the car and grunted when spoken to. He was crammed into an overcrowded pew with the family and he folded his arms disgruntled at being forced to come. The final pressure had been put on by his sister, who reminded him that this was also a service for those who had lost someone recently. She had gone on and on about a star with Granddad’s name on it or something – so he had given in and gone.

  *

  It had to be admitted, the carols, the candles and the Christmas trees did make you feel a bit warm and festive – but he did it grudgingly. He consoled himself with the thought that at the interval there would be hot chocolate and mince pies. When the break came the congregation milled around trying to reach the refreshments in the vestry. Nate had vanished again and he had seen Rebecca nip off quickly with her friends to get orange juice. He watched her blonde head bob in and out of the crowd and along with her other pals there was one whom he instantly reco
gnised. George was there too. Rob caught his breath and began to push his way through the masses of people. Every step was impeded by somebody getting in the way and he had soon lost sight of them.

  *

  He was about to turn and find some hot chocolate when he became unsteady on his feet. He shook his head to clear his brain and ahead of him the colourful lights of the Christmas trees blurred and merged into a rainbow puddle. The light shimmered and grew to an intensity that grew unbearable. Then, with sudden clarity, a new image grew in front of him. The people in the church receded and faded into oblivion as though they had never been there at all.

  *

  In front of him a familiar figure was revealed. Sir James was there, older than before, his baldhead shiny, framed with snow white hair, extravagantly long whiskers down each cheek as though compensating for the lack of hair on top. He was smartly dressed in a full topcoat and trousers, with a sleek top hat beneath his arm. He leant heavily upon his silver topped stick and walked ponderously to the window. Rob looked around him, startled. He was no longer in the church; he was in a large grand room with a huge walnut table surrounded by leather chairs. As he moved towards James he glanced around him… the place was familiar. Now he had it! He was in the Town Hall, the new town hall – at least in James’ time. He called out with a greeting and was excited to see him once again. There was no response.

  *

  Behind James was a woman. He took in a sharp breath, the woman was easily recognisable, but she too was much older, with faded fair hair, shot through with silver, tied neatly in a bun and a jaunty hat perched coyly on top. Miss Sheriff was considerably better dressed than when he had previously seen her. However, her spirit shone through and she looked like a woman to be reckoned with. Rob smiled to himself. It looked as though she had risen in status and appeared to have a more important role than a dairymaid now.

  *

  The two stood together like conspirators, looking rather conspicuous in this enormous room. James looked wistfully out of the window, onto a wide road bounded by small shops and buildings. Trams made their way sluggishly along Duke Street, which was busier than in modern times. The people bustled about, each on their own mission, oblivious to the dignitary silently observing them from above.

  *

  “Well, Miss Sheriff I trust you have made the arrangements?” James sighed heavily and suddenly looked every year of his age. He had shrunk like a withered apple. Rob felt a pang of regret. He was an old man.

  “Yes Sir James, I have,” replied Lee kindly, patting his arm with a neatly gloved hand.

  “Good, good. You have secured the place? My chapel is complete and the hiding place has been constructed?” he asked anxiously.

  “I have secured all and it is complete. Please do not distress yourself.”

  “And the church warden? He is with us? He is of the Brotherhood?” he continued, ignoring her comforting words.

  “He is Sir James you need not worry on that account. Nobody will even suspect the hiding place. It has been masterfully done.”

  “Good… good. I have the letter ready. I fear I have not long… and Frederic has not proved he has the mettle for such a task. But where to leave the missive I cannot think, where would be a place which our friends would search when I am gone… and when you are gone?”

  His watery eyes brimmed with tears and his frustration quivered through his feeble frame. He was a shadow of his younger self and his vulnerability was obvious. He was agitated and was consumed with the worry that the chalice would be discovered by the wrong person.

  “I will not rest until I am sure of the cup’s security – In this life – or the next!” he said ominously, momentarily demonstrating his old strength and determination.

  He wobbled and struggled to keep his feet.

  Lee rushed to his aid and dragged a heavy leather backed chair towards him. He sank heavily onto it and leaned forward onto his stick.

  “I have but one hope,” he muttered, “That the boys will come back before I pass… if that be a vain hope – and I warrant it is, – that they find my note with the help of the old monk’s magic…”

  Rob longed to cry out and tell him that they had found the note, to put him out of his misery.

  *

  Suddenly, James sat up straight backed and alert again.

  “I know where to leave it! In my house there is a secret space. Nobody but the architect and I know of this. It is a storage place, but it will be just the solution we require. I have stored some furnishings, which we no longer use there; it would be no effort to add this as well. Fred will never find it…”

  His relief was clear and he relaxed in the chair for a second.

  “But the chalice…” he glanced at Lee, “It is safe… the swan is marked in clear view?”

  She nodded.

  “Then I can rest easy. Call my man. I must return to Abbot’s Wood. I feel quite done in…”

  Lee turned to leave.

  Rob moved closer to James. His heart was heavy with sadness. James was so pale and frail, he reminded him of Granddad in his final days. He brushed away an unwanted tear. He so wanted to tell him they had the clue… though he had not the first idea how to solve it yet. He opened his mouth to speak.

  James looked up sharply. He stared straight at Rob. James could not see him, Rob was sure.

  “James…” he whispered.

  “Who’s there?”

  The old man peered straight at him.

  “James… it’s ok… we got your letter.”

  No response.

  “James!” he almost shouted.

  *

  He could hear the noise from the church in the distance. James was receding slowly. He could see Lee enter with a man dressed in livery in the background.

  “See! Miss Sheriff – can you hear… there is someone here?” James stabbed the air with his stick. She glanced at the man and shook her head. It was obvious she believed James was hallucinating.

  Under protest the old man was helped to his feet. As they almost carried him towards the door Rob called out again, reaching out a hand.

  The old man stopped and turned around.

  “We have the note!” cried Rob.

  In an instant the old chap’s face suffused with colour and his eyes brightened. Their eyes met for a split second with the recognition of friendship. The years dissolved and the young man concealed beneath the outward appearance of an old man shone through. The picture shuddered and began to liquefy and as James disappeared, Rob heard him cry out joyously.

  “He has it, Miss Sheriff! He has the note!”

  CHAPTER 11

  THE MESSAGE

  Rob returned home from the carol service a lot happier than when he had left. He was pleased that he had been able to give James peace of mind. However, he was left with a big problem because he had more fragments of the clue, but still had to discover where on earth to look. He read and reread the note to make sense of it. He forced himself to research everything and anything about James Ramsden. Luckily, his house was packed with local history books, but unfortunately they did not reveal their mysteries to him. He gave in and resorted to a trip to the archives and library.

  He spent a few days at the start of the holidays searching records. He located every step of James’ life, which was on public record, but was disappointed to find that his diaries had been lost and only fragments remained. He wondered if this had been by design. Who knew what he might have written about?

  *

  The chap at the archives was extremely helpful and he made suggestions about which volumes to read and which council meetings to find. He began to put the life story together combining it with his own knowledge of James. He groaned and closed his eyes, resting his head on his hands. He was so tired that he almost fell asleep. When he opened his eyes again a familiar face grinned at him from across the table… or desk as it had now become. Rob glimpsed the surroundings. They were no longer in the modern archives. Instead
they were in the old Reference library above. It was an elegant room, battalions of books, journals and periodicals arranged in neat rows, standing to attention. The desks were elaborate affairs, wood and leather and classically styled.

  “You struggling?” whispered George.

  “Shut up!” retorted Rob.

  George chuckled.

  The librarian clicked her tongue in disapproval. She was much less friendly than the archivist in Rob’s day.

  “Well where have you been? I’ve been trying to work this out on my own!”

  “Sorry! I have had a lot on you know?” George laughed. “What’s happened then? Fill me in!”

  “Ssh!” the librarian gestured them to be quiet.

  “Come on! Let’s go …”

  George jumped up and made his way to the door. Rob followed and gazed around him in astonishment. He caught sight of the old museum through glass doors as they ran down the spiral stone staircase. He wondered if this was the forerunner to the Dock Museum in his own time. It looked more intriguing – with stuffed animals and glass cases full of goodness know what! The hi-tech electronic doors downstairs had vanished in preference for an old fashioned revolving door, which creaked as they pushed through.

  Rob realised that this slick transit through time was becoming commonplace to him. God knows what time he was in now? It looked early 20th century, but he wasn’t sure. As they exited the building he saw the statue of Sir James himself. They both looked across the road, surprisingly lacking traffic, towards the statue. It was a good likeness, but didn’t reflect the enthusiasm and sincerity of his personality. He would not have been pleased that his dignity was being contested by a very rude seagull perched on top of his bald head.