Mystery: The Laird's Labyrinth: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 4)

by Victoria Benchley

  "That's the surrounding countryside and they're original to the hall, although my father had them restored. The three running down each edge are my ancestors," Reginald volunteered.

  Duncan shifted his gaze to the sides of the ceiling. Triangular, diamond-shaped and oblong frames contained portraits of ladies and men in Tudor or Elizabethan dress. As he reached the center of the room, the paintings appeared upside down and he realized they were now orientated for people entering the hall from the other end. He felt slightly dizzy and stood still as he shifted his eyes from above to straight ahead. He then noticed the furnishings. Two wing back chairs, upholstered in a rich green velvet, sat facing their partners on each side of the hearth. Matching Art Deco floor lamps provided extra light. A long table beyond the fireplace stretched towards the far wall.

  "It's quite a place, isn't it, Laddie?" Donald said, adding, "fit for a laird."

  The investigator turned his attention to his friend and agreed, "It's beautiful," nodding his head.

  He hadn't expected to find this level of decoration in the heap he first saw from a distance moments earlier. The chapel ruins so close to the house affected his first impression.

  "Please, you two have a seat while I fetch my grandfather's notes," Reginald said, gesturing to the wingbacks by the hearth.

  Donald and Duncan took chairs opposite each other and waited while their host disappeared through one of the doors at the far end of the hall.

  "Have you spent much time here, Donald?"

  "Aye, on and off. Every few years we'd come fir a visit. Emma, Reggie's wife, and Aggie were great together, and we made a wonderful foursome. We're both widowers now, Lad."

  The innkeeper's voice trailed off, as the older man stared at the fire. Duncan knew how much he missed his wife.

  "Don't wait too late in life to settle down, Duncan," he added with a grin. He continued, "Ye need a steady occupation that serves the community and a wife to make ye happy in the long run, dae ye ken?"

  Duncan pondered what his friend was getting at and was about to ask for clarification when Reginald scurried back into the room. Their host did everything with an alacrity not often matched by younger men.

  "I'm so glad I had the fire lit. This storm has really chilled things," Reggie said, taking the chair next to Duncan.

  He held a leather bound book in his hand.

  "I think I should begin with the important bits of history regarding Holy Island and this house. Don't you agree?" he asked, looking at Donald.

  "Whatever ye think is best, Reggie," Donald answered, while Duncan nodded.

  "Quite right. As you must know, Lindisfarne was a spiritual center. Eadfrith produced the famous Lindisfarne Gospels here in the late seventh century. Some of his magnificent designs are unfinished, intimating he died while working on the illuminated manuscript. In 1753, the Gospels were donated to the British Library, but there's a good quality partial facsimile in the Heritage Centre here on the island. You should take a look at it while you’re here, Duncan."

  Reginald paused to emphasize the importance of his last statement. Duncan nodded to encourage his host to continue, glancing at Donald. He noticed his friend bobbed his head in agreement with Reggie.

  "Eadfrith died in 721 and by 793 strange portents appeared. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle even states that dragons were seen flying in the sky."

  To Duncan's amazement, Reginald continued as if these accounts were normal.

  "The Vikings weren't far behind, plundering. Then, in 875, the Norsemen raided again and the monks fled with Saint Cuthbert's bones. Cuthbert had been bishop here, renowned for his holiness. My grandfather believed that when the monks returned after the Viking attack, they established a place to hide their treasures, should another raid occur. He supposed the clerics consigned any riches they couldn't carry off to this location when the invaders came back. The church re-established the priory in 1093, but by then the spot may have been lost to time."

  "That's an interesting premise, Reggie, but is there evidence to suggest any of this is true? I mean, couldn't the monks have fled with all their wealth when the raiders reappeared?"

  The older men beamed at each other and then at Duncan. Donald's chest puffed with pride and Reginald squirmed in his chair.

  "He's getting to that, Lad."

  "Quite right. Bear with me, Duncan," Reginald paused and gave the investigator a smile before continuing, "the reason I mention the Lindisfarne Gospels is because many of the illuminated letters, or carpets as some refer to them, resemble labyrinths. Are you familiar with labyrinths, Duncan?"

  "Aren't they garden mazes or walled follies?" he answered.

  "No, Lad. There's a difference," Donald volunteered. "A maze has dead ends and is devised as an entertainment, a game of sorts. A labyrinth has no dead ends, other than its center. They have a spiritual purpose. Dae ye ken?"

  Huh? Duncan tried to remember everything he'd ever heard regarding labyrinths. There was a fantasy movie by that name, and he recalled something about the cathedral at Chartres, France.

  "Yes, there's a maze, er labyrinth, at Chartres Cathedral, isn't there?"

  "Quite right, Duncan. That labyrinth is very well known. Many were covered up or destroyed during the reformation, or in our case, during the reign of Henry the VIII, but the one at Chartres survived." Reginald took a deep breath before continuing, "Henry had the Catholic Church outlawed and named himself head of the Church in England. He seized the possessions of the monasteries and gave their properties to his supporters. Many churches were ransacked or destroyed. The ruins of the island's priory still stand near the village, and there's a modern labyrinth, grown from shrubs, on its grounds. This property," Reginald paused and gestured to signify their surroundings, "belonged to the monastery and included a Gothic chapel built over older ancient ruins in the 1200s. That's where Grandfather supposed our labyrinth and treasure map were located. King Henry had the priory and our buildings ransacked and gave them to one of his cronies, who built Norcroft Manor. Another friend of Henry's, the Earl of Rutland, built the Castle. Both utilized stones from the priory and chapel in the new structures. Because this was an unstable area politically, being so close to Scotland, Henry demanded that the castle be fortified should the Scots invade. Later, Elizabeth continued this policy. By the time James I came to the throne, Scotland and England combined into one kingdom, and our neighbors to the north were no longer a threat."

  "Reggie, tell him about the Gospels," the innkeeper urged.

  "Yes, quite right. My grandfather spent time at the British Library studying the Lindisfarne Gospels. He thought they resembled labyrinths. That's why it might be helpful for you to take a look at the copy here. It seems the monks became obsessed with labyrinths and considered utilizing them a spiritual discipline. My grandmother told my father that Grandpapa had made some sort of discovery in the family archives that excited him. This was only a day before he disappeared. She always assumed he was racing off the island to tell someone about his breakthrough or get help unearthing the treasure when the tide got him. There is a page missing from one of the ledgers he was reading."

  "Can you tell me more about the purpose of a labyrinth? You mentioned they're used in a spiritual discipline," Duncan said.

  Reginald tapped the book in his lap absent-mindedly before answering, "Labyrinths are representative of a spiritual journey. Take the one at Chartres. It's circular, as most are. A pilgrim will follow its path which weaves around eleven concentric circles until the middle is reached. Walking the labyrinth involved prayer, mediation, and most believe music, such as singing. Labyrinths predate Christianity, but were incorporated by the church into religious practice. Those who couldn't go on a crusade to Jerusalem could symbolically participate in the journey by praying through a labyrinth. Most scholars think the middle of the pattern at Chartres represents death, so those traveling towards the center would repent of their sins and reflect upon Christ's sacrifice on the cross. The only way out of the laby
rinth is the way in, so that journey represented the route to life, re-birth, salvation and life after death. The Christian would meditate, pray, and sing praises to God on his way out of the labyrinth."

  Duncan tried to picture the design Reggie spoke of.

  "I don't understand the eleven concentric circles," he stated, running his fingers through his hair.

  "Have you ever heard of Sacred Geometry, Lad?" Donald asked.

  "Yes, but I'm not sure what it means."

  Donald nodded at Reginald, signaling that his friend should explain.

  "The circles aren't exactly circles." Reggie tapped his book again, then continued, "You'll understand when I show you my grandfather's sketches. It is believed the number eleven represents sin because there are ten commandments and there were twelve apostles. Hence, the pilgrim walked over the eleven concentric circles as they repented of their sins. Architects of the cathedrals incorporated measurements from the Bible into their designs. It's of interest to note that when a handful of knights returned from a decade of excavating on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem in the early 1100s, architecture changed dramatically. Those men later formed the Knights Templar. Many believe they discovered something on the Mount that led to these changes. They were championed by Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, who stated that cathedrals should incorporate proportion, not decoration. The proportions they used often came from the Bible."

  "There's much mystery and symbolism built into ancient cathedrals, and people study that aspect of their construction to this day," Donald interjected.

  Reginald opened the leather bound tome on his lap and leaning near Duncan asked, "What does this look like to you?"

  "It's a crude drawing of a human brain with its stem," the investigator proclaimed at first glance.

  It was obvious.

  "Ah, I thought you might think that, and perhaps it is," Reginald said before continuing, "but it's also a drawing of a labyrinth."

  The older man smiled and raised his eyebrows at Duncan.

  "I think they're related," he added.

  "Do tell."

  Intrigued to know more and feeling somewhat like a schoolboy, Duncan enjoyed Reginald's lessons.

  "While it might be simplistic to believe the left and right hemispheres of the brain have rigid control of one's logic or creativity, there seems to be scientific evidence to support that one's left side proves more responsible for logic, numbers, sequencing, et cetera. The right side bears more responsibility for special awareness, imagination, rhythm, and creativity. When one practices the spiritual discipline of walking a labyrinth, both sides of the brain are utilized at once! Do you see how this can benefit a person? How would people know this in the middle ages?" Reginald said, his voice quivering with excitement.

  Duncan pondered the sketch, tracing between its lines with his forefinger. He thought over the points his host had made.

  "And realize that medieval scholars believed the quadrivium held the most important elements of knowledge: music, number theory, geometry, and astronomy. All of these components can be part of a labyrinth walk," Reginald added, his enthusiasm contagious.

  "It's like peeling an onion, isn't it? I mean, there seem to be layers upon layers to these theories," Duncan observed.

  "Oh, they're not just theories, Duncan. I think he's ready to see my little discovery, don't you, Donny?"

  "Aye, the lad is ready."

  Reginald drew the book away from Duncan and closed it.

  He rose and said, "This way, if you please," heading towards one of the doors at the back of the hall.

  Duncan followed, with Donald bringing up the rear.

  "Can I examine more of your grandfather's notebook?" Duncan asked, unsettled by seeing the book shut.

  "Of course. I'd like you to go through it. If you're free, after lunch you can have at it," Reginald said as he held the door for his guests.

  -5-

  Illumination

  Ahead, Duncan could see a long passageway. This area had not been refurbished. As the three progressed, the light grew dim and the hallway seemed to narrow.

  "This is part of the rabbit warren, I'm afraid," Reginald remarked.

  Now, he understood his client's earlier comment, as they turned left and right, each corridor more tapered than the last, before stopping at a small door. The three created a crowd in the constricted space, and the investigator experienced a touch of claustrophobia.

  "Prepare yourself," Reginald said with excitement before pushing the diminutive door open.

  A bright light temporarily blinded the investigator to what lay within the room. Reginald entered, stepping down, and Duncan waited for his eyes to adjust before ducking through the doorway. Donald followed the others. He smelled earth and something he could only describe as a musty dampness. He heard a sharp metallic sound like iron scraping across a hard surface. As his vision changed to accommodate the light, he joined Reggie.

  Opposite the doorway, stood a large round west-facing window. It had once held stained glass, but its colors had long ago faded to dingy white due to the chemistry employed by its maker. A wide ledge around the perimeter of the area remained, while a pit of sorts had been dug in the middle. Along the edges of the room, stacked high stones stood next to mounds of soil. The southern wall held tall, slender rectangular windows, imbedded in cross-shaped indentations. In a corner, a man leaned against the wall, one leg crossed over the other. Dressed in work clothes, he appeared disheveled and dirty. Duncan guessed he was a few years younger than himself. The man had a sturdy build, as if accustomed to hard labor, a thick neck, dark brown curls that fell to his jaw, and a face that looked a day overdue for a shave.

  "This is Julien Townsend, my caretaker and all around man on the spot," Reginald said. "Julien, this is Duncan Dewar. He'll be around the old place for a while."

  "Hallo, Julien, pleased to meet you," Duncan said, observing the caretaker's shrewd brown eyes.

  The investigator took several steps towards the younger man, extending his hand in greeting.

  "The same," Julien answered, without moving a muscle.

  Duncan got the message and retracted his arm. He also caught an unusual accent in those two words.

  "Well, Lad, what do ye think?" Donald asked, an impatient note in his voice.

  I think he's a rude bloke.

  Duncan glanced around the room. The handyman had been refurbishing an old floor, removing some bits of slate. Under the slate, a layer of rock peeked out, and beneath that, soil. The various strata looked to measure about a meter deep, combined. Something caught his eye that looked like a miniature version of the Nazca lines in Peru, except in color. He moved near the partial image, revealed where the levels of flooring had been removed.

  "What's this?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the design.

  "That's the labyrinth of Lindisfarne!" Reginald exclaimed.

  "It doesn't look like those in your grandfather's book," Duncan pointed out, raising his eyebrows and straining to get a better look at the design. "So, this was the location of the original chapel?"

  "Quite right. Grandfather had its location all wrong, and you are correct, it doesn't look like his sketches. But, it does resemble the carpets in the Lindisfarne Gospels, Duncan."

  "That's right, Laddie. What the laird has here is a real discovery."

  The investigator scrutinized the patterns formed by tiny mosaic tiles of muted orange, gold, green, and cream, just visible under a layer of dust. Slate, soil, and other materials had been removed from one corner of the dig to its opposite, on the diagonal, revealing a large triangle of flooring. An equivalent triangular space of stone, dirt and debris still covered the rest of the design.

  What Duncan could make out was what may have been the bottom and right side of a cross, as well as part of its center axis. The mosaic needed a good cleaning. Attached to each corner of the bottom of the cross was a small square which held a concentric design. One could definitely pass in and out of these squares if
following a path without crossing any lines. He could see the right arm of the cross in its entirety and it contained what could be part of a labyrinth, as did its foot. The rest had yet to be exhumed, and he guessed he saw less than half of the intersection of the foot and arm. He estimated the entire mosaic measured seven by ten meters, not as large as the room but still a good size.

  "You know, the area on the right resembles Peru's Nazca lines, don't you?" Duncan asked, looking from Reginald to Donald.

  "Exactly!" The two older men exclaimed in unison.

  "And the Nazcas were around as late as 700 AD, the same time our monks were busy on Holy Island. I believe the Nazca lines are giant labyrinths that the natives walked," Reginald stated.

  "But don't the Nazca lines point to the heavens?" Duncan asked.

  "The theories are numerous. But, labyrinths also have references to the heavens, the elements, et cetera. If you recall, the quadrivium of knowledge medieval scholars emphasized included astronomy. Researchers are almost certain the labyrinth at Chartres contains references to earth, fire, water, and air, which can, of course, be interpreted to contain the heavens. That circle has 112 cogs around its circumference. Geber, the father of Arab chemistry believed there were exactly 112 sub classifications of the elements. I can't think that's a coincidence," Reginald added.

  "What about the base? It's a series of Greek keys, if I'm not mistaken," Duncan said, bending his knees to get a closer view of the design.

  "That's what it looks like," Reginald said, grinning.

  All during this discourse, Julien worked quietly at removing more slate. The investigator watched as he pried up the tiles with his hands and placed them along the perimeter of the room. The dust began to irritate Duncan's throat and he developed a cough.