The Carlswick Treasure (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 2)

by SL Beaumont

  “Yeah, about that. I wish I’d had a look at those guys. It’s been bugging me all night, but their voices sounded familiar. I think they might be the same guys who helped Alex escape. They had a truck parked outside the cellars at Knox Manor, which I hid under. If we can pull them out in the open again, I might recognise them,” she said.

  “Why does it always come back to bloody Alex Knox?” Matt wondered aloud.

  “Because, he told me that he would be back,” Stephanie said. “And it’s been four months without a word. He’s up to something, I just don’t know what.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay, when?”

  “Now?” Stephanie suggested.

  Matt groaned.

  “Look, we’ll be down there for two minutes,” she said.

  “What about ‘laces for a lady’ and ‘letters for a spy’?” Michael reminded her.

  “I just can’t work those two out,” Stephanie said, discouraged, pressing her fingers to her temples in frustration. “Let’s pop back to the cemetery and we’ll go from there.”

  “Steph, have you mentioned any of this to your dad?” Matt said.

  “No, but I might when he gets back from Legoland tonight,” she agreed.

  Matt laughed. “Max is at Legoland?” he asked. “Now that I would like to see.”

  “Yeah, he’s taken Mum and Toby. They all seem to be getting on extremely well,” Stephanie said.

  Matt sat up and studied her closely. “What does that mean and why didn’t you go?”

  “I have a heap of assignments to do—I’ve spent so much time hanging out with them that I’ll get behind if I’m not careful. So I’ve spent most of the day studying,” Stephanie replied, turning away.

  “Hey, not so fast.” Matt jumped up and put a hand on her arm. “What are you thinking? Your parents have always gotten on well.”

  “Yeah, it’s just that I’ve never noticed the, ah, chemistry, between them,” Stephanie said, screwing her nose up slightly.

  Matt cocked his head to one side. “Does it bother you?”

  “Kinda. She’s married to Pete, Toby’s dad.”

  “Well, sometimes these things are complicated,” Matt said. “You should talk to your mum if it’s really bothering you.”

  * * *

  The wind was bracing as they rounded the back of the church a short time later. Dusk was fast approaching and the church looked cold, grey and unwelcoming.

  “Miserable bloody place,” Matt muttered.

  Stephanie laughed, despite her chattering teeth, and pulled her coat tighter around her. “Are you coming down this time?”

  Matt shook his head. “Nuh, I will be the guard again.”

  “Don’t run off and leave us this time,” Michael said.

  “As if,” Matt replied, giving him a withering look.

  The ground around the entrance to the cave was covered with snow and again looked undisturbed. Together they heaved the heavy cover open and propped the branch against it. Michael and Stephanie dropped through the opening and switched on their flashlights. The cave was untouched from their previous visit. A quick search revealed nothing new, so they made their way through the low tunnel to the second chamber. They set up a powerful torch in one corner to illuminate the room as much as possible and methodically checked each crate. They were all empty. Michael searched in the low corners of the cave and Stephanie started moving the stack of small barrels which were propped up on their ends in one corner. They too were mostly empty, although a few still contained some liquid which sloshed around inside. Stephanie shone her torch along the wall behind her and stood up, rubbing her cold gloved fingers together.

  “There’s nothing here,” she said, disappointed.

  “Here neither,” said Michael from the other side of the room.

  “Help me stack these again. We probably don’t want to advertise our presence,” she said.

  Together they began moving the barrels back into place. Stephanie dropped one of the barrels as her fingers stiffened with the cold. It rolled away on the sloping floor of the room. She retrieved it and as she lifted it back onto the stack her glove caught under the metal rim.

  “Here, Michael. I’m snagged. Can you unhook me?” she asked, turning towards him.

  Michael bent to look at what she was caught on and broke into a grin.

  “What?” she asked.

  He gently unhooked her glove and turned the barrel over. There, on its base, secured by two rusty bent nails was a large, crudely made metal key.

  “No way,” she exclaimed, removing it from the nails that held it firm.

  They retrieved their torches and ran back along the tunnel and up the crate staircase.

  “Matt,” Stephanie called as she pulled herself out through the trap door. “Look what we found.”

  Matt was not alone. He was standing away from the entrance with a man on either side of him. One was average height, mid-twenties with greasy lank hair pushed back off his forehead. The older man was short and squat, with a blue knitted beanie covering his head. He had an unpleasant look on his face and a gun trained on Matt. Both men wore heavy boots and worn black overcoats.

  “Sorry, Steph,” Matt said. “He has a gun.”

  “And what have you found for us, Miss Cooper?” the older man asked, before breaking into a bout of chesty coughing.

  “Ah, nothing,” she said, taking a step back towards the trapdoor and letting the key slide through her fingers back into the cave below, for Michael to catch.

  The man looked annoyed. “I know you weren’t down there alone, so your friend needs to come up. Now,” he shouted. When Michael didn’t appear he added, “A bullet in the leg would end a promising rugby career.”

  “Come out now, Michael, and bring the key,” Stephanie called.

  Michael climbed out behind her and held a key out to the first man. “That’s all?” he asked, taking it from Michael. They nodded. The two men backed away, the gun still pointed at Matt and disappeared into the trees bordering the cemetery.

  Letting out a shaky breath, Stephanie rushed to Matt and hugged him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, they surprised me. I think we were followed. They knew that we were here. Are you alright?” he replied. She nodded.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Michael said.

  “Are you okay, Michael?” Stephanie asked, turning to look at him.

  “Better than okay,” he said and pulled the key that they had found on the barrel from his pocket. Stephanie stared at it.

  “What did you give them?” she asked in a whisper.

  “A key to the garage at home,” he replied.

  “Jeez, I hope they don’t know what the key should open or they will be back for the right one,” Matt said.

  “I don’t think they know. In fact I think, like us, they didn’t know what to look for,” Stephanie replied.

  “Did you recognise them?” Matt asked.

  Stephanie shook her head.

  Stephanie and Matt returned to Wakefield House just as Max, Marie and Toby arrived back from Legoland. Toby was over-excited, talking non-stop as he led them all inside carrying a new box of Lego.

  “Did you have a good day?” Stephanie asked her mother, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  “So much fun,” she replied. Stephanie couldn’t miss the look that passed between her parents. “Toby had a ball.”

  “And scored another box of Lego, I see,” Stephanie replied, smiling.

  “Max is a bit of a soft touch,” Marie said, laughing.

  Toby was still talking when they walked into the sitting room. Ellie was sitting in her favourite armchair as Toby waved his arms around, describing each of the rides that they had been on and how they were all so wet after one ride that they’d had to huddle in a big drying machine to get dry again. He crawled into Stephanie’s lap when she sat down on the sofa and spent the next half an hour on a one-subject monologue. At one stage Marie passed Toby her phone, so that he could show Steph
anie some of the photos they had taken. He expertly scrolled through them until he came to the dragon’s castle.

  “Look at this, Stephie. This castle has a dragon rollercoaster in it—it is so cool. We went on it five times and Mum screamed every time,” he giggled.

  “Mum,” Stephanie admonished. “It can’t have been that scary.”

  “Look at this one, Stephie. There were real knights and ladies.” He showed her a photo of him standing between two armour-clad knights. In the photo Toby was grinning broadly, brandishing his own foam sword. “Hey, Mum, where’s my sword?” he said suddenly, jumping off Stephanie’s knee.

  “It must still be in the car,” Marie said, standing up and taking his hand. “Let’s go and see.”

  Stephanie stared at the photo, but it wasn’t Toby or the knights she was seeing any more. It was the ‘ladies’ dressed in their finery standing at the entrance to the castle—long lace cuffs on the sleeves and around the neck of their dresses. “Laces for a lady,” she murmured, “Lady of the manor or castle.”

  “Yes, dear?” Ellie said from across the room.

  “Nothing, Grandma, just popping upstairs. Matt, come on,” Stephanie raced to her room and grabbed her notebook off the desk and read her earlier notes.

  A Man must stand by his Master –cave beneath the two crypts

  When once he has pledged his word—refers to the church?

  Brandy for the Parson—key on the brandy barrel

  She hesitated with her pen hovering over the next line—Laces for a lady and wrote Carlswick Castle. That left just one line of the poem to crack.

  Letters for a spy

  Matt followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. “What’s up, cuz?”

  She sat back on the little sofa, chewing on her pencil, and patted the seat beside her.

  “I think the ‘laces for a lady’ line could be a reference to Carlswick Castle. I don’t suppose there are any doors left at the castle ruins to use a key on?” she said.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Matt replied.

  “Still, maybe we should all go and explore the ruins tomorrow. Toby would like that,” she suggested.

  “You’ll have to count me out. I promised Dad that I’d help him out on the farm tomorrow.”

  “That’s a shame. But since you’re here now you can help me look into who Masters and Mann were,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  Stephanie grabbed her laptop and opened the Carlswick Museum’s website and entered ‘Masters’ in the search box.

  “Anything?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah. Looks like the family goes back generations in the Carlswick area,” she said as she scrolled through a long list of names. “I don’t know what I’m looking for, though.”

  “Try the date of the crypt. Wasn’t that around 1750?” Matt suggested.

  Together they read through several biographies on various family members.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Stephanie sighed, clicking to the top of the family tree and a man named Sir George Masters.

  “Hey, they had a lord. Click on his avatar,” Matt said, pointing at the screen. “What does it say?”

  “Sir George Masters was in the service of the Earl of Carlswick from 1435 to 1462,” she read.

  “Huh.” Matt slung his arm across the back on the sofa, his long legs spread out in front of him. “Try the other family, but start at the beginning this time.”

  Stephanie entered Mann into the search box and scrolled to the top of the family tree. “You’re not going to believe this, but Sir Francis Mann also served the Earl of Carlswick during the same period.”

  “Really?” Matt sat up.

  She broke into a grin. “And look at the Earl of Carlswick’s emblem.” She turned the laptop so that Matt could see. Filling the screen was a stylised rose—exactly the same rose that had been carved into the trapdoor at the graveyard.

  “That’s too much of a coincidence,” Matt said. “You are on to something. Masters and Mann pledging their oaths to the Earl of Carlswick. The laces for a lady reference—this has something to do with Carlswick Castle.”

  Chapter 17

  Morning, Wednesday 28th December

  Over breakfast, around the large wooden table in the kitchen, Max filled Stephanie in on the history of Carlswick Castle. He sipped his coffee as he leant back in his chair reading from a dusty guidebook he’d brought to the table, after Stephanie had suggested they take Toby to visit the ruins.

  “Carlswick Castle is situated on a hill at the northern edge of the village. It is a ruin now, under the care of English Heritage, but in its day it would have looked impressive, built on the top of a hill looking out across the bay. Edward III constructed the castle in the 1300s on the site of a former Roman fort, to solidify his power base in the south of England as he continued his campaign to become King of France. In those days, the castle dominated the landscape, but now the coastline has silted up, leaving the castle several hundred metres from the shoreline. The walls of the massive round keep, bailey and twin-towered gatehouse are mostly still standing and remain visible for miles.”

  Max continued to provide a running commentary as they drove in his sleek black Mercedes CLS through the village and up the hill to the castle. “Carlswick Castle has been important throughout history with many kings and queens such as Richard II and Edward IV residing there at times. Elizabeth I is rumoured to have slept in the castle on more than one occasion. The castle was refortified in 1587, in view of the threat from the Spanish Armada, with earthen gun emplacements built for six cannons. But the site was abandoned shortly after and fell into ruin and it wasn’t until the fall of France in 1940 that the castle resumed its military purpose to protect England’s coast; this time from the threat of German invasion. The towers of the medieval castle and the walls facing towards the coast were fortified and fitted for machine gun defence and it was used by the US Army as a radio centre later in the war. In the years since, the castle has fallen into disrepair, although many of the towers still stand in varying degrees of decay. Fortunately, conservation work has begun over the past few years and the site has opened for visitors during the summer months.”

  “Dad, if the law thing doesn’t work out, you could get a job as a tour guide,” Stephanie teased.

  “Am I being a history nerd again?” Max asked, smiling.

  “’S’okay, you’re in good company,” Stephanie replied.

  Max pulled in alongside three 4WDs and a common white van. A number of people were milling around the vehicles, and several members of the group were carrying heavy bags of equipment up a steep pathway to the gatehouse entrance to the castle.

  A balding man with a long snow-white beard and a rather unattractive comb-over, wearing tattered trousers and heavy hiking boots, seemed to be the group’s leader, if the reverence in which he was being held as he spoke was any indication. A slightly younger man with greasy-looking long hair hanging limply from beneath a cowboy hat, wearing denim shorts and a checked shirt appeared to be his deputy. His broad Somerset accent rang out in the crisp winter air as he issued instructions to the younger members of the team, a group of four men and two women.

  Stephanie caught the eye of one young woman who was carrying a large box of equipment, and smiled. When she returned the smile, Stephanie wandered over. She was around her age, and wore a stripy woollen beanie from which two dyed platinum plaits protruded.

  “Hi. This looks interesting. What are you guys doing?” Stephanie asked.

  “We’re doing a short archaeological survey over the holidays,” the girl replied.

  “I hope you don’t have to dig—the ground will be frozen solid,” Stephanie said.

  The girl laughed. “No, thank God. It’s an explorative assessment only. We’re from the University of Bristol and we’re looking at the link between the original Roman fort on this site, the 16th Century fort and the refortifications that were made during World War II. The Prof has wanted
to do this for ages but the funding has only just appeared from some private donor, so here we are.”

  “That’s fascinating—I’m studying history at uni—so I just love all of these old sites. We’re taking my little brother for a walk around the castle, I hope we won’t be in your way.”

  “Oh no. We are just setting up today—we won’t get properly underway until tomorrow,” the girl replied.

  “Okay—good luck,” Stephanie said as she walked to catch up to her family, who were slowly making their way up the path to the remains of the two gatehouses marking the castle’s entrance.

  “Why don’t you come back and see us in a couple of days and I can show you what we’re doing, if you’re interested,” the girl called after her. “I’m Kerry, by the way.”

  “Stephanie. Thanks, I will,” she replied.

  “They’re a team of archaeologists,” Stephanie explained to her parents.

  “This is so cool.” Toby ran ahead brandishing his foam Legoland sword. “Do you think any dragons used to live in this castle?”

  “Depends how many mother-in-laws lived here,” Max said with a sly look at Marie.

  “Max,” Marie admonished. “If my mother heard that…”

  Max laughed. “My point exactly—I rest my case.”

  The outer curtain wall of the castle remained largely intact. The austere grey brickwork towered above them as they entered, passing between the ruined gatehouses.

  “These towers would originally have been twice this height, with an overhead bridge from which a metal spiked gate, called a portcullis, was raised and lowered,” Stephanie explained, stopping to read from a visitor information plaque attached to one wall of the gatehouse.

  The grounds inside the castle walls were covered in neatly mown grass and the parts of the ruins that were sheltered from the sun contained pockets of snow. They followed the path inside the walls, stopping to look at the remains of the World War II gun emplacements and to read a sign indicating that this part of the low wall was from the original Roman fort. An inner wall followed the same circular pattern as the outer wall. Further on, the pathway turned and they walked under an archway into a large courtyard, at the centre of which stood an imposing round tower. It rose over six levels and contained many small glassed-in windows. An enormous Christmas tree covered in gold balls and small gold lights had been erected in the centre of the courtyard.