The Legend of the Black Monk

by Nigel Cubbage

  ‘Magnificent creatures, aren’t they?’ Daedalus was standing in the doorway, watching the dogs, a glacial smile playing about his cruel, thin mouth. ‘Calm, loyal and so full of menace. I have seen them attack a deer, bring it down and stand over it, waiting patiently to be allowed to tear its throat out.’ Rupert could hardly breathe, let alone respond, his knuckles white as they gripped the bed. Daedalus eyed him.

  ‘Helmut, Hida … weg!’ At a sharp command from their master, the two dogs left the room instantly. Daedalus watched them go and closed the door. He walked over and stood in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘Now, would you like to tell me what you know about the gold… or shall I go outside and ask the dogs to come back in?’

  Rupert was scared but perhaps he could still buy some time. ‘Look, I really don’t know anything. All the message said was to find something he had left for me at the Manor. We turned it upside down but found nothing.’ He had a sudden flash of inspiration.

  ‘When we got there, there was a smashed window and glass all over the floor in his study. Maybe somebody got there before us and found whatever it was we were supposed to find.’

  Daedalus paused momentarily, perhaps pondering whether the boy might indeed be speaking the truth. Rupert decided to go for broke. ‘We even thought it was one of your lot. We saw this monk in the woods and chased him but he got away.’ Daedalus looked at him for a long time in silence. He put his hand on the door handle. Rupert prayed he would now leave. ‘You would be foolish to conceal anything from me.’ Daedalus opened the door.

  The two dogs sat outside, staring in, as if waiting on an instruction to launch themselves.

  Rupert swallowed, his throat dry, his pulse thumping. The message was crystal clear.

  The door closed on Daedalus and the dogs. Rupert sank back onto the bed, blew out his cheeks and closed his eyes in relief. Outside in the corridor a monk appeared out of the shadows and stood awaiting Daedalus’ orders.

  ‘Is our other guest with us yet?’

  ‘He is expected shortly, Father.’

  ‘When he arrives, put them together and observe them. Perhaps they will tell each other something they won’t tell us. The boy has told me nothing so far. I am convinced he knows more than he is saying.’

  * * *

  At a junction in the windy lane out of St Morwenna’s, by a signpost where five narrow lanes met, Drew leant on his handlebars, considering his options. One particularly steep-looking track, with grass growing in the middle, led to somewhere called Grizzlecott. He was three quarters of a mile from Helgabron and, in the opposite direction, the forbidding Hangman’s Gallows. ‘Well I’ll not be going there … and McOwan reckoned Scottish place names were strange,’ he muttered.

  Rebecca and Laura would be on their way to the chapel, a long ride away. Too far.

  He was only a mile or so from Tregenna and Von Krankl’s hotel. The old man was expecting them this morning in order to plan the next move. He turned his bike towards Tregenna and pedalled off down the hill.

  Tregenna and the George Hotel were quiet as he pulled into the small car park and propped the bike against the wall. Inside, he walked up to the reception desk, where a girl of about eighteen sat at a computer. She turned a dazzling smile on him as he leaned against the desk. Drew felt himself blush and stood up straight.

  ‘Er, I’d like to see Mr Wood, please.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed him. Where’s that gorgeous accent from?’

  Drew blushed even deeper. ‘Oh, er, Argyll … gone out, has he?’

  ‘Checked out, sir … where is Argyll?’

  ‘Really?’ Drew’s jaw dropped. ‘When?’

  ‘First thing. The gentleman who settled his bill said he would not be returning. They left together.’

  ‘I … oh, er, thanks ... Argyll’s in Scotland ... like Cornwall but with midges.’

  ‘Pleasure.’ The smile fixed uncertainly on him again but this time Drew was too preoccupied. Back in the car park he climbed onto his bike and leaned on the handlebars.

  Drew had little doubt that Sky was the mystery man who had come and settled Von Krankl’s bill. But where had he taken him? He turned out into the street and started back up the hill. At the junction onto the main road, he was about to set off when a red car roared round the corner and forced him to jam his brakes on. He glared towards the driver as the car passed, then his eyes opened wide. At the wheel was Sky. In the back sat Von Krankl.

  Neither looked in his direction and Drew pulled his hood across his face quickly, to avoid recognition. As soon as the car went by, he set off as fast as he could in pursuit. As his legs raced, so did his mind.

  Why had Sky come for Von Krankl and how did he know where to find him? Why had Von Krankl gone with him? Perhaps he had been given no choice but could they be absolutely certain Von Krankl was on their side and not in league with Sky? Straining his eyes, he just glimpsed the car disappearing onto the road towards the moor and the monastery. He gritted his teeth and pushed on, turning off a few minutes later in the same direction.

  Chapter 22

  Through the Arched Window

  The Smugglers’ Chapel was deserted. Sunshine filtered through the trees, casting long beams of light onto the grey-stone building. The breeze off the sea carried the cries of seagulls. As it rustled through the trees in the woods, more leaves fell to join the carpet at their feet. Rebecca and Laura entered the cool of the chapel and went through to the chancel. They stared up admiringly at the magnificent stained glass window. Sunlight streamed in through it, playing beautiful coloured beams across the floor and walls of the thirteenth century building.

  ‘No Reverend Hendricks this morning?’ Rebecca looked around, the faintest hint of relief in her voice. ‘Might make life a bit easier to go poking about, as charming as the old boy is.’

  ‘What are we looking for?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Rebecca briskly and brightly. ‘What is the window supposed to show? Is there a leaflet anywhere which explains?’

  ‘I saw some on the way in, hold on.’ Laura disappeared back through the nave to the porch, returning clutching a small book triumphantly.

  ‘Well done!’ said Rebecca, taking it from her before she could open it, much to Laura’s chagrin. ‘Now, let’s see … window, window … ah!

  Stained Glass Window.

  The magnificent stained glass window at the southern end of the chancel depicts scenes from the Crusades. The central pane shows Sir Lytton Hobbe, twelfth century Lord of the Manor, who fought in the successful campaign against the Ayyubids and Saladin, which saw the fall of the Saladin Empire in 1193. The seven adjoining panes are scenes of battle. The minor panes around the edge are considered to be mainly decorative.

  ‘A bit warlike for a church window, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it show religious biblical stuff, saints and the like?’ Laura pursed her lips.

  ‘Fundamental cornerstone of religious history, the Holy War or Jihad. Our God is better than yours. Kept people fighting for thousands of years … still does. I mean, the Crusaders were Christians, out there, spreading the word. Sort of early Jehovah’s witnesses, except with swords rather than copies of the Watchtower.’

  ‘Can you see a clue anywhere?’

  Rebecca put down the book. The window looked magnificent in the sunshine, the bright light picking out every subtle nuance of colour and contrast. But with regard to any clues left by Jurgen Kraus, nothing was immediately obvious. There was no sign of a signature or writing. ‘Hmmm. If the clue is here, it doesn’t leap out,’ said Rebecca. ‘Maybe we do need old Jimmy Hendrix after all. I bet he knows all about it.’

  ‘I’m not exactly brilliant at history but even I know the Crusades are nothing to do with Napoleon,’ said Laura.

  ‘Indeed not. Yes, the Napoleonic thing in Kraus’ message … puzzling.’

  ‘I bet Rupert would know. He’s such a brainbox.’

  ‘Swot,’ corrected Rebecca. ‘Maybe, but he’s
not here is he?’

  ‘Men,’ said Laura.

  ‘Where are they when for that one time in a million you actually do need them?’

  ‘Busy being somebody else’s inconvenience, Aunt Kitty would say.’

  * * *

  Hot and perspiring, Drew skidded to a halt on the lane overlooking the old monastery.

  It was a fine view of Druid’s Rock and the coast, with the azure blue sea sparkling beyond cliffs.

  He had ridden as hard as he could from Tregenna pursuing the red car, pushing the ancient bicycle well beyond its rickety limits. He leaned forward to catch his breath, scanning the area around the monastery for signs of life. Nobody was about. He would proceed cautiously to avoid being discovered. He hid the bike in bushes near the gatehouse by the bridge and had just emerged when a lorry swung round the corner from the direction of the monastery, so quickly that he had to jump up the bank to avoid being knocked down.

  He got back to his feet and dusted himself down. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he muttered, watching it disappear down the road. He tilted his head slightly to one side. ‘Now why would that lorry be delivering to the monk?’ The truck bore the legend ‘Aerospace and Marine Fuels’.

  He kept to the trees. Between the branches he caught sight of the red car, stopped at the gatehouse. Presumably leaving having dropped the old man off, he mused. As he came nearer, he heard voices.

  ‘Don’t worry, he isn’t going anywhere. Now we have them both, one of them is bound to talk.’ Sky’s tones were unmistakeable.

  ‘I knew it!’ Drew muttered, triumphantly. ‘I bet that means you have Rupe and Von Krankl banged up somewhere inside. Sky is definitely in on it! I have to get inside and find them.’ He paused, gathering himself to scramble over the wall at the boundary of the monastery’s grounds and try to find a way across the bridge. He was all ready to leap forth when something made him stop. He shook his head and grimaced. ‘I know what she’ll say if I get caught,’ he spoke out loud. He remembered a telephone box back at the crossroads and felt some coins in his pocket. Drew waited until he saw the red car come out of the gates and roar off down the road, before retrieving his bike and heading back up the lane.

  * * *

  Rebecca’s mobile phone started ringing. Surprised, she took it out and looked at the display. ‘Don’t recognise this number … hello? … Campbell! Where are you? … I see … Right … right decision, blimey! … yes, we’re trying to work out this blasted window – without much success it has to be said. Look, get yourself back here … Okay … bye.’

  Rebecca turned to Laura. ‘Our intrepid cyclist. Reckons he’s found Rupert and that’s not all he’s got to tell us, apparently, so he’s on his way here.’

  Chapter 23

  Pointers and Signals

  ‘ Hello again, young Rupert.’

  Rupert’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he looked at the man in the doorway to the small, bare room. ‘What are you doing here?’ Von Krankl slowly wheeled his chair inside and a monk slammed the door shut behind him, the key turning in the lock. He came over to Rupert, put a finger against his lips, scribbled something on a small notepad he took from his jacket and handed it to Rupert.

  Cover the air vent.

  He looked at Von Krankl in bemusement. The old man held out his coat and gestured for Rupert to use it, pointing at an air vent by his feet. Rupert did as he was asked and turned back to the old man, who was now over by the fireplace.

  Von Krankl spoke to Rupert in a hoarse whisper. ‘They can listen in … the vents connect each room. Put in when the monastery was built. A cynic might say so that the fathers could check nobody was breaking their vow of silence. They will hear us if we talk normally but the coat should muffle whispers.’ He sat back and spoke again in his normal voice.

  ‘I was not the person you expected to see. Don’t worry, I am on your side. I am not in with these monks, which is why they have locked me in here too. How did you come to be here?’ He raised his eyebrows to Rupert and mouthed the word ‘Careful!’

  Rupert cottoned on immediately. They could talk as long as they gave nothing away but needed to talk anyway so as not to arouse the suspicions of their unseen audience.

  ‘They want me to tell them where the gold is but I really don’t know. They want me to tell them what was in the message but I never read it. Sky locked me up in my room before I could go and look for it.’

  Von Krankl smiled, nodding approval. He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  ‘Very convincing. I almost believe you myself! I cannot explain everything but I have met with Laura, Rebecca and Drew. I believe they trust me and I hope you will too. I am Werner Von Krankl. I was on the German submarine which your Grandfather’s boat sank. I have long been his trusted friend and, as you know, I am the executor of his will.’ He paused as footsteps passed by outside.

  ‘Now, we need to find a way out of here. Luckily, I know this monastery well. I believe this is the room once occupied by the Black Monk himself.’

  ‘What!’ gasped Rupert.

  ‘The story goes that there is a secret door somewhere leading down into the caves. Look around, but be quiet. I hope you are not afraid of ghosts?’ A smile flickered on the old man’s face.

  ‘What am I looking for?’ whispered Rupert, looking disbelievingly at the bare walls.

  Von Krankl raised both palms towards the ceiling. He spoke louder for the benefit of the air vent. ‘I am tired. They got me out of bed very early and I am not as young as I was. If you will excuse me, I am going to close my eyes for a while. We can talk later.’

  The walls were solid and unbroken. The only obvious place in the room which might conceivably conceal a door or entry of some sort was the wide open hearth. A wooden mantelpiece surrounded the edge, with various carved wooden designs. Rupert ran his finger over the head of a horse, shrugged his shoulders and turned back to Von Krankl.

  ‘What is that?’ croaked the old man, craning his neck forward.

  Rupert looked back over his shoulder. ‘What? That? A horse’s head.’

  Von Krankl shook his head impatiently. ‘No, not that. Next to it. Those signs mean something. Push me in closer.’

  Rupert grabbed the wheelchair handles but Von Krankl stopped him and got to his feet. Rupert’s mouth dropped open for the second time in a few minutes. ‘What? How?’

  ‘No time to explain now but they don’t know.’ He jerked his thumb towards the air vent. Von Krankl examined a small row of carvings at one side of the fireplace.

  ‘I will never run in the Olympic Games, but I can still get about. I thought so! Signals code, flags. The navy used them to send messages in olden times.’

  ‘What? You mean like Nelson, Trafalgar, England expects and all that?’

  ‘Exactly that. I was a signals officer when I joined the navy, although my memory is a bit rusty now. But these, if I am not mistaken, mean “close” and these here “open”.’

  ‘Open a door do you think?’ Rupert’s voice started to rise, his eyes shining with excitement.

  ‘Shh! Remember they are listening!’ Von Krankl hissed. ‘Perhaps it moves somehow and opens our door.’

  Each carved section was about four inches long and protruded from the wall. He felt all around them with his fingers and pressed. Nothing happened, so he grasped hold of the whole row with both hands and tried to turn it. After a few seconds, it moved sharply to the side! For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was a clunk, as if something had been released. A small section of the wall at one side slid back silently, revealing a cavity behind. Von Krankl and Rupert looked at one another in astonishment.

  ‘Good grief! The Black Monk’s secret door?’ Rupert could barely contain his excitement.

  Von Krankl nodded, amazed. A cold, dank smell seeped from the opening. Rupert leaned through and peered into the gloom. He could only see a few feet inside but enough to discover a narrow passage with a brick wall on the far side.

  He put his mouth cl
ose to Von Krankl’s ear to whisper. ‘We should go now, while they think you are resting.’

  ‘You go,’ whispered the old man. ‘I must stay here. If you are not back in one hour, I shall assume you have managed to escape. It makes sense to have one man on the inside to keep an eye on them. Besides, if I go, my cover is blown.’ He pointed to the wheelchair.

  ‘While they think I cannot walk, I am not a threat to them.’

  Rupert saw the sense in this. ‘What will you say about how I got out?’

  ‘The old ignorance ploy. That I thought they had simply come and taken you while I was sleeping. Now if you escape, you must do something for me. You know the wreck out in the bay?’

  Rupert nodded, puzzled. Von Krankl hesitated, eyeing Rupert strangely.

  ‘You … there is an … accomplice of mine there, in hiding from our religious Nazi friends. I have been taking him food each day. He dare not go ashore and risk being seen, for his life would be in the gravest danger. He will wonder what has happened when I do not come tonight. You must tell him.’

  ‘That’s why the wheelchair was in the bushes by the boathouse! You borrowed the boat, didn’t you? Who is he?’

  Von Krankl pursed his lips. ‘Forgive me … I cannot tell you … not yet. All in good time. You must trust me.’

  By now Rupert was certain he could trust the old man. ‘Whatever you say. But will you be okay here?’

  ‘These men hold no fears for me. I have known their like for too many years. Now go, go! Before they get suspicious and come marching in here.’ Von Krankl put a hand on Rupert’s back, encouraging him towards the hole in the wall.