The Cistercian Conspiracy

by Gill Jepson

  *

  Suddenly, Sam awoke, hackles bristling and his lips curling revealing his teeth, bared in a protective growl. He launched himself towards the window shocking Rob into action and jolting the wizened fiend so that it fell backwards onto the patio. Rob unlocked the door, fumbling with the keys. As soon as it was open a blast of wet and icy air splattered him and the dog raced out to attack the intruders. Simultaneously, the rest of the house awoke and Dad rushed in, pulling on his dressing gown. Within minutes everyone was in the kitchen trying to find out what was happening.

  *

  The dog had disappeared to the bottom of the garden and there was no sign of anyone else. Dad and the two boys ran outside into the garden, immediately soaked through with the rain. The birdbath was in pieces and a large hole gaped like an open wound. A shovel was abandoned and pots and shrubs had been upturned and dug up. The shed door was swinging open, nearly pulled off its hinges by the wind. The whole garden was a mess. Dad went to close the door and Rob turned to Nate nodding towards the windowsill. Fragments of sandstone littered the sill and the floor beneath, broken splinters and remnants of the goblin were scattered on the paving. Whatever the creature had been, when it fell it had been destroyed.

  *

  “Right lets go back inside and get dry,” said Dad.

  Mum was already handing out warm towels and Rebecca was turning on the kettle.

  “I don’t know what possesses these kids!” said Dad shaking his head, “Destruction for the sake of it!”

  “Vandals! That’s what they are. Mindless vandals!” added Mum.

  Nate, Ron and Rebecca threw a knowing glance to each other. They knew that it was not vandals who had caused the damage, but they could not tell them who had done it. They would never be believed.

  *

  As they drank their hot chocolate and warmed up in front of the fire they all knew that they had lost the precious chalice. The three sat gloomily, minds occupied with ideas of how they would get it back and what Brother John would say about it. A single rumble of thunder growled overhead announcing the terrible loss.

  CHAPTER 16

  MEA CULPA

  A troubled John Stell awoke from his weary and restless sleep. His heart was as heavy as the lead on the church roof. He knew that the chalice was in peril. The crack of thunder heralded the disaster, which he had tried so hard to avert. His eyes prickled with tears. His work was unravelling, time was becoming unstitched… the power that Silas held now could destroy it all and give him the control he wanted and that he, John Stell had thus far denied him.

  *

  The echo of the deed reverberated through time, seeping through the walls of the monastery and surrounding all with foreboding. This should have been avoided, he knew. He had tried to place the objects of power out of reach and had assigned through time, guardians to watch over them. He had made mistakes he knew and it seemed to him that all blame rested at his door.

  *

  He had safeguarded the book and the sword thus far, but to lose the chalice was devastating as it sealed the security of a much bigger and more important treasure as yet undiscovered and known only to a few of his brethren. He sat on the edge of the straw filled mattress on his wooden palette and looked at his fellow brothers mournfully. They were ignorant to his task, which Abbot William of Dalton had set him those many years since. Only one shared his burden, Robert the Mason. He was a good and stalwart soul however, and John knew he would need to have conference with him on the morrow.

  *

  He knew if this was not righted he would not rest, in this life or the next. He knelt heavily next to the bed clasping together his hands in earnest prayer.

  “Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa…” he muttered. Panic rose in his chest. His task was undone. He felt it in his old bones. He continued with his prayer… words lingered in the air, hanging like petrified stalactites. His heart was gripped by a cold fist of fear and he despaired of being heard.

  His cough returned consuming his weakened body. Suddenly, he fell forward in to the rush strewn floor, struggling for breath.

  “Mea Culpa… M…”

  Brother Michael awake from his sleep, disturbed by the thud upon the floor.

  “Brother John, what ails thee?”

  He roused the other sleeping monks and one of the younger brothers ran swiftly down the night stairs, through church and cloister to the infirmary.

  *

  Brother John was removed to the infirmary where he was given medicine especially mixed by the infirmarian made from liquorice and comfrey. Brother John fell into a fitful sleep. His friend Robert the Mason was seated beside him as he awoke. The pale face of the monk lit up to see him. He was the only person who now shared his great burden.

  “Brother, thou must not worry thyself… this matter will be resolved… thou knowest the boy and his kin are bent on our cause. It can be remedied.”

  “Nay, Robert! It must be remedied… nought can be left to chance.”

  “’Twill be safe, be assured old friend, thou hast seen those in the future who can stop these evil ones… and they will be frozen betwixt this life and the other for all time, just as those who harmed Abbot Laurence were…”

  John nodded sagely.

  “Aye, but there is a change… I feel it as surely as I take breath… great power is released with the loss of our chalice…”

  “We do not know this is so…”

  *

  Days passed slowly. Brother John weakened and his cough worsened, Mason watched on helpless, hoping that the prayers said in the Infirmary chapel would heal John’s soul and cure his bodily illness. Many days passed with them discussing the safety of the treasures, a feeling of hopelessness washed over them both.

  *

  “It all rests with the boy…”

  He gasped for breath momentarily.

  “He must be certain to pass the knowledge on with care… there must be no mistake. I must remain to help… we must prepare to guide them into the future,” his voice rose in panic.

  *

  Brother John Stell passed quietly, Robert with him to the end. It was said that his spectre was seen shining brightly in the Infirmary that day. Indeed the story remained potent for years. Those living and working close by the Abbey of Furness told tales of an old monk dressed in white walking the ruins, passing through the trees in Abbot’s Wood and along the Precinct Wall, protecting a lost treasure hidden within the abbey walls.

  CHAPTER 17

  FORGETTING

  Rob woke groggily next morning. They had all slept late because of the previous night’s events. He had a pounding headache and he felt he had not slept at all. The memory of what they had lost hit him like a sledgehammer. The chalice… it was lost. Rob washed and dressed quickly and rushed downstairs to find the rest of the family having breakfast.

  *

  He nodded at Nate and winked at Rebecca in acknowledgement of the secret they held. As he sat down at the table his mum spoke.

  “We need to clear up the garden later – can you three help please?”

  “Er… yeah…”

  “Aw Mum I wanted to go over to Megan’s… do I have to?” moaned Rebecca.

  Rob kicked her beneath the table. She shot him a look of surprise.

  He raised his eyebrows trying to indicate they should see what clues they could find.

  She looked blankly at him.

  “Go on then,” said Mum, “The boys can help.”

  “Oh great! So we have to do it then?” groaned Nate. “How come she doesn’t have to do it?”

  *

  Half an hour later they were in the garden cleaning up again. There was quite a mess and mum had rung the police to tell them about the vandals. The boys looked around for any clues that had been left but they could see nothing unusual except for the heap of sandstone beneath the windowsill where the creature had fallen.

  *

  As they cleared the debris away Rebecca and her two friends arrived.
They stood around chatting and poking fun at her brothers, which was not received kindly.

  “Thought you’d have helped us to find some clues?” said Rob.

  “Clues? What are you on about?” asked Rebecca puzzled.

  “About the chalice…”

  She shrugged and looked confused.

  “The what?”

  “Have you had a bump on the head or something?” asked Nate.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied.

  “The treasure! You know! Like the book you found!” he insisted.

  “’Course I know about the book – we found it after all!” she retorted.

  “Well… there was the sword… and the chalice too! You must remember!”

  The boys were exasperated.

  The girl stared at them. It was apparent that she was sincere.

  They did not know what to say. Neither could they understand what had happened to Rebecca’s memory. She stood without moving and as they looked at her and her friends they became muted and fuzzy, like an old sepia photograph. It was happening again. The world spun frantically around them and they became disorientated and sick.

  *

  They arrived in the middle of a familiar place. They were standing in the Chapter House at the abbey. It was not as they knew it of course. In fact it was spectacular. The boys drank in every detail of their surroundings impressed and fascinated by what they saw. The room was lit with rush lights and candles, bathing everything in a soft orange glow. The walls were painted white, with the bricks pattern picked out in thin red lines. There were delicately carved Corinthian pillars reaching up to the high vaulted ceiling like elegant tree trunks, branching out to support the floor above. The stained glass windows glistened and caught the light like jewels; around the room were carved wooden seats and a lectern in the corner. It was a beautiful place and as magnificent as it was in the 21st century, this incarnation was even better.

  *

  Seated ahead of them were two monks, standing beside them was a familiar looking face. Mr Mason, it seemed was there too, dressed in medieval garb, but they were certain it was him. The monk who spoke was by now familiar to them.

  John Stell spoke in calm tones, though the concern was etched on his face.

  “My sons, welcome. We have much work to do.”

  They both remained silent.

  The other monk, dressed differently to Stell nodded and smiled at them. For the moment he did not speak.

  “The task of protecting the abbey treasures was given to me many years past. I have been undone by many misfortunes and grave mistakes and I now find I have put the safety of the abbey and the future at stake by my errors. There are bad influences at large and they now hold power to unravel the good, which is done. Thy sister is already at risk. Her mind has been enchanted by those who would do evil.”

  *

  The boys glanced quickly at each other, realising that her earlier lapse of memory had been induced.

  “This can be reversed if thou canst find the chalice. Thou shalt have help, but thou must move speedily. Those who have been called upon over these many years to assist our cause are locked in time. The boy is the only one who can still pass through. In his time he has had an illness of the mind and is not yet cured. We can use his dream state to bring him through time to aid thee.”

  “George… do you mean George? He was ok when I saw him… just days ago!”

  The three men smiled knowingly.

  “Thou canst not rely on thy reckoning of time. ’Tis out of kilter and he is our one hope to rectify this disturbance. We must retrieve that which is lost, for there is yet a greater battle ahead. He fell into illness on the day you saw him last and has caused grave concern to his loved ones. He is strong and will overcome this illness, but it must take its course and ’tis to our advantage to use it. He will find thee and thou must begin thy search before ’tis lost forever.”

  “Where do we look? An’ is Mr Mason gonna help too?” cried Nate, indicating the man beside the monks.

  “Nay, my son, this man is not who you think. This is Robert the Mason, his ancestor. But Mason will help as the Masons have always helped.”

  “The chalice will shine brightly for those who seek it with a good heart. Its power doth wane the further from the abbey it is taken .To gain its fullest influence it must be returned from whence it came. Seek it close by the abbey for they cannot use it well elsewhere.”

  The other older monk whispered something to John Stell.

  “My Lord Abbot says thou must beware of the power they hold and guard thee well because they are not without guile and wickedness. Even for the brief time they hold the chalice they can unravel the threads of time and change that past which we know.”

  The air shimmered and flickered and the vision of the three people began to fade. The two boys were moving again. When the world stopped moving they were able to breathe properly.

  *

  They had returned to their former position, facing the three children in the kitchen. Rebecca laughed.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong with you both?”

  The boys shook themselves and collected their composure.

  “Anyway, we are going out – see ya… wouldn’t wanna be ya!” she yelled cheekily as she left through the back door.

  “Hmm… not sure I do either,” said Nate with a wry smile.

  “Know what you mean,” replied Rob.

  “So… where on earth do we start looking?”

  “Beats me… near the abbey I suppose! And Grand… Titch, George I mean… how do we get hold of him?”

  Both boys shrugged, still in disbelief that they were friends with their own grandfather in his boyhood. Everything was out of order… out of time even… and none of it made sense. Nate went to the fridge to get the bottle of coke and poured them both a drink. As they drank it they decided to cycle to the abbey again. After all they couldn’t lose anything and they needed to have a hunt around to see what could be found to help them.

  *

  It was blustery and cold but signs of spring were emerging as they rode into Manor Road and past the farm. Clumps of snowdrops and crocuses broke through the hard earth in the verges and hedgerows and in the field opposite there were some early lambs huddled like little balls of wool next to their mothers. As the boys rode, they past the old Precinct wall stood proud on the ridge above the field and they rode on through the narrow West Gate, in ruins, but still an imposing approach to the magnificence of the abbey. Mill Beck was full and gurgled under the culvert beneath the road into the abbey stream; it was always like this in late winter and often flooded if there was heavy rain. It had worsened since the monk’s days because of new houses further up the valley and it was apparent that any further building would seriously threaten the abbey. They splashed through the puddle across the road and rode on to the amphitheatre. They got off the bikes and locked them against the fence.

  *

  They walked around the field looking this way and that, unsure of what they were looking for. The abbey appeared harsh and brittle, its red sandstone muted with the dull light, making it dark and forbidding. Grey clouds hung heavily like woollen blankets and everywhere was quiet and muffled. They clambered up the steep sides of the amphitheatre to get a better view from the summit. They reached the top quickly, red faced and panting with their exertion. Resting and taking deep breaths they surveyed the countryside around. It was deserted apart from the sheep dotted about the green fields. As they turned to walk around the rim of the amphitheatre a stick flew unexpectedly from the trees behind them. Both boys looked at each other grinning.

  “George!” they cried simultaneously.

  There he was hiding in the trees. A wide smile spread across his thin face, eyes twinkling with mirth. His cheeks were ruddy with the cold and his ears stuck out incongruously beneath his navy blue school cap. He had a dark coat and scarf and knee length shorts. His grey socks almos
t met the shorts but chapped red knees peeped from the gap between the two garments. Rob thought how cold he must be, but the lad seemed not to be aware. His appearance made them both smile.

  *

  “So, what do you need me for now? I thought we had finished all of this?” he asked.

  “It’s the chalice, we lost it!” admitted Rob.

  “Lost it? You’re having me on!”

  Nate shook his head and looked sadly at Rob.

  “That is not good!” George commented.

  “No, we know that George. Dixon and his lot took it from the hiding place. We couldn’t do a thing about it,” said Rob.

  “What we gonna do then?”

  “Er we hoped you might know… the monk said you’d help!”

  George grimaced.

  “Well… I’ll try but I’m a bit fuzzy… I keep having really rotten headaches… should I know where it is?”

  The two brothers glanced quickly at each other. This must be the illness John Stell had alluded to.