The Furness Secret

by Mark Williams

  The door of the lodging house was energetically flung open to reveal the King’s Treasurer surrounded by two protective men of arms.

  “Brother Allard, you have our promised guide?”

  He indicated Brother Robert with a measured incline of his head. The monk seemed to have regained some composure and nodded at the deputation in the doorway.

  “Come then. We need to make good speed to reach Swineshead Abbey by nightfall.”

  The monk rose from his seat and disappeared into the throng gathered round the door. The group gathered round him and they disappeared into the early morning mist. Allard turned to his comrades.

  “Well, no turning back now.”

  July 2010 – Repatriation

  Tom found himself back on the tri-star. But he was on the other side of the aircraft this time. He hadn’t lasted a full tour. But he could honestly say he wasn’t going to miss anything at all about Afghanistan. The plane jumped a little as it was hit by some gentle turbulence. Tom winced as a shard of pain shot through his leg. He’d be very glad to get back to the UK and get his wound looked at properly. The field hospital at Camp Bastion had got him over the worst, but he was sure his recovery would be greatly assisted by a comfy bed in England.

  A pang of guilt washed over him. What was he doing thinking about recovery? Gazing further down the cabin of the plane, two humps broke the even lines of the floor. Straps fastened tightly across the flag draped coffins. Stevie’s body was lying behind Biscuit’s. His had been the screams in the gully. Dead by the time the chopper arrived. There would be no recovery for either of them.

  September 2010 – Waiting for Tom’s Return

  Chloe looked down at the sleeping face of her beautiful baby daughter, who was lying beside her on the front room sofa. She looked from there to the picture of Tom that was standing on her father’s mantle piece. He was standing in front of a tent in the blazing desert sunshine. Strong, confident pose, with his tanned arms folded tightly across his chest. Chloe was relieved that their reconciliation had taken place before his…. She didn’t exactly know what to call it. Injury? Accident? Incident? Chloe was no Army wife. Apart from Tom, she had never even met anyone who had served in the armed forces. Let alone someone who’d been on active service.

  It had been over two months ago in the middle of the afternoon, when the worst had happened. Eve was sleeping in her little bed upstairs. She still liked a nap after her lunch. Chloe’s phone had gone off, and withheld number had flashed up.

  When the man on the phone introduced himself as Captain something, her world had stood still for a moment. Temporarily numbed, she couldn’t take in what his words were trying to tell her. She knew it was serious by the tone of the voice on the other end. Chloe forced herself to calm down and to listen to the explanation. She heard mortar attack, and then the dreaded word, fatalities. Her heart seemed to stop. She blurted out.

  “Is he….. Dead?”

  The reply restarted her heart. No, he was seriously injured. But there was nothing fatal. There was a problem with his leg, but so far they’d saved it. The voice said they would be in touch again the next day. Her hand was shaking as she put the phone down on the table. She collapsed onto the chair and her whole body began to shake with shock. Chloe was still in the same position when her dad got back from work an hour later.

  “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”

  There was a distinct tone of panic in his voice. When he found out the problem was an injured leg, he threw himself down on the sofa right next to her.

  “Don’t worry love. He’ll be OK. They’d have been here in person if there was any real danger.”

  Her dad’s words proved prophetic. Four days later they had spoken to Tom from Afghanistan. He sounded just like his usual self. In a few days, he would be on the way back to the UK, to Selly Oak Hospital. He was out of danger. And even better his leg had been saved. There was going to be a long period of rehab. And it might not be possible for him to return to frontline action. But he would be back home in maybe eight weeks. And calling from the UK hospital before the week was out. Chloe went to bed that night feeling hugely relieved. And as a bonus, her dad had offered to have Tom stay with them for a few days, when he finally got out of hospital. Until he found a place of his own.

  It had now been nearly ten weeks since the Captain’s call. Tom was due home later that week. Chloe couldn’t wait to see him again, and show him how much his daughter had come on. The only cloud on her horizon was that Eve seemed a bit troubled in her bed that evening. She hadn’t been sleeping soundly for a week now. That was why Chloe had taken Eve out of her room and had her lie for a while on the sofa next to her. She resolved to take her to the surgery in the morning. The little girl gave a muffled moan and started to cry. Still seated, Chloe picked up her up for a quick cuddle.

  “Hush, hush my sweetheart. Daddy will be home soon.”

  September 2010 – At the Surgery

  Chloe knew there was something wrong. She may have been only nineteen, but her mother’s instincts were sharply honed.

  Her doctor was a middle-aged woman, maybe forty, or a little older. She was a little dumpy, with hair that was just starting to turn grey. Lately, she had taken to wearing glasses in the surgery. The GP had been the only doctor that Chloe had ever known. She was the person who Chloe had gone to with colds, flu, and other minor ailments. When Chloe had fallen from a tree at the age of ten, she had been the doctor who had reassured Chloe that nothing had been broken. And of course it was her GP who Chloe had seen throughout her pregnancy. The doctor had been a comforting female adult presence throughout her life. That day, the GP had been her usual cheery self when Chloe walked in with her daughter. She gave Eve a smile.

  “Well, haven’t you grown young lady?”

  Eve wasn’t having a good day and just sat on her mother’s lap with her face clamped tightly to her chest. The doctor looked at the girl’s notes on the computer screen and then at Chloe.

  “It’s been a while since you were last here. Since Eve had conjunctivitis last Christmas. What’s the problem today?”

  “It’s her stomach. There’s something down there that I’m not quite happy with.”

  “Right. Pop her down on the table and let’s take a quick look at her.”

  The doctor needed all of her bedside manner to prize the little girl from her mother, and to lay her down flat on the black plastic couch in the surgery. Then she felt around the girl’s abdomen, and kept feeling. Her casual joviality dissolved. She became more business like and serious.

  “Mmm….. I think we may need to do a few tests here. Twenty-four hour urine to start with I’d think. I’ll send a letter off to the General to get you an appointment. Should be within a month.”

  The journey home was a bit of a blur. Eve was left in the middle of the kitchen, still strapped in her trolley. Chloe raced straight to the laptop. A quick google of stomach, lump and twenty-four hour urine test, did absolutely nothing to reassure her.

  The next morning saw Chloe and Eve, back at the GP’s surgery. This time Chloe didn’t wait to be asked.

  “A month won’t do. I need to get her tested right now.”

  The doctor just nodded. She hadn’t been entirely happy with her decision from yesterday. The best choice would have been to provide more timely escalation in this case. She reached for the phone, already decided on which consultant to call.

  October 12th 1216 A.D. Midday – Crossing the Wash

  Allard urged his horse past the first of the two wheeled, ponderous wooden carts. The Treasurer was riding alongside the wagon unwilling to let it out of his sight. It had been left as nondescript as possible. No one would guess at the value of its cargo. It had been Allard’s idea to place the wagon at the rear of the baggage train. His reasoning had been that it would be easier to defend, as the King’s men and the Templars could surround it in the event of any attack.

  The Treasurer had not been entirely re
assured. But he yielded to Allard’s greater military expertise. And had the great Earl of Pembroke, the King’s most loyal servant, not personally vouched for the knight? The Treasurer also felt more secure that the contents of the wagon were secret. No one, other than himself, the three knights and a servant far away at Corfe Castle had any idea of what the cart held.

  At the head of the train, thirty or so wagons in front, the monk Robert was slowing walking over the sands of the Wash, prodding the ground carefully with his long staff. From the height of the sun in the sky, he had the time until the next tide carefully calculated. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to the captain of the King’s Guard who was riding at the head of the line.

  “Look, you can see the far bank from here.”

  He pointed with his staff. The Captain followed the direction with his gaze. He could see the bank with his own eyes. He gave a relieved sigh. On the shore he could see a group of mounted horsemen. Presumably they had already made the crossing safely.

  The King’s man had never been particularly keen on this short cut. But John had insisted that they reach him that night. He had not wanted them making camp out on the wilds of the marshy wasteland. Indeed, the Captain could see the argument in getting the court and all its supporters to the safety of the Abbey for the overnight stop. Brother Robert was continuing to indicate the way ahead with his staff.

  “From here, the sand is firm. Please, ride on with your carts. I will remain here to check that none of the wagons have problems reaching this point.”

  The soldier grunted his agreement and set out with the rest of the baggage train following behind him. The monk however did not remain where he was. Unremarked, he made his way in the other direction. All of the drivers of the carts were focused on following the vehicle in front and no one paid him any attention.

  At the rear, Allard and Henry nodded at each other. Henry pulled up the horse and the wagon ground to a halt. Allard and the Treasurer stopped at the same time. Henry pointed down to the wheel on the far side of the cart.

  “Brother Allard, this wheel appears to be sticking. Can you please take a look and check that there is no problem with the axle?”

  Allard got down from his horse and let the reins fall to the floor. He crouched down at the side of the cart and began to make elaborate inspections of the underside. The Treasurer was looking on anxiously.

  At the same time excited cries could be heard from the front of the convoy. The leading group was actually many hundreds of yards away by now. Henry had stopped his cart some time ago and even the last wagon in the train was now nearly out of sight.

  “Look! Look! The waters are coming!”

  The Treasurer and his two guards wheeled round in the direction of the shouts. Clearly there was something wrong. As they turned back to the three Templars, they were astonished to find the men had drawn their swords.

  “What….”

  Before the Treasurer had time to say any more, Allard had run him through with his weapon. His fellow knights had taken similar care of the two guards. They had been allowed no time to shout for help. But in any case all of the men at arms accompanying the baggage train were fully engaged in trying to turn around the heavy wagons. They were desperate to save themselves and their cargoes from being swept away by the tidal waters.

  Time was of the essence. Allard’s cart was still a good hundred yards from the near shore. Henry whipped the horses into action and turned the vehicle back in the direction from which they had come. As he urged the horses onward to safety, Allard and James rode by the side. Behind them scurried a red-faced Brother Robert who had managed to escape the mayhem and had joined them.

  October 12 1216 A.D. – Swineshead Abbey

  The morning mist had receded and the King appeared in good heart as the royal party left the town of Lynn. They crossed the Wellstream at Walsoken, farther inland than the route taken by Allard and made their way to Wisbech. Although the majority of the royal court and their luggage were taking the route agreed the previous evening, the King was nonetheless accompanied by four large carts containing armour and weapons that John needed to get to his forces in the north east.

  He had sent word ahead from Lynn and eight boatmen were waiting for them at Wisbech. The contents of the wagons were unloaded and the boatmen engaged to ship the cargo to Grimsby. That business completed, King John was ready to meet with the Marshal’s son before he continued on his way to Swineshead Abbey.

  The Marshal was glad of the diversion with the boatmen. Even with his vast experience of plots and intrigue, his nerves were frayed. It required enormous concentration to keep his face relaxed throughout their journey. Still he was glad to see his son at their resting point. William the Younger had arrived with some information regarding the make up of the English forces that were supporting Prince Louis. King John had listened assiduously and appeared grateful to the Marshal’s son for his inside information.

  At the Abbey, the situation was tense. Hugh the Abbot, was seated in the refectory. Prayers had been said according to their usual daily rhythm, but the Abbot could take no part. Swineshead was a daughter house of the one at Furness and he had received a visit from his fellow Abbot Ambrose of Furness earlier that summer. He had been shown the instruction from Pope Innocent to provide any and all assistance the Templars might require.

  But Hugh had a problem with his part in this plan. He was not required merely to provide a storage facility. But he would also need to ensure that the King of England himself, consume a drink that would be provided by the Order of the Templars. He was quite sure that nothing pleasant would be concealed within. Further than that, he had been informed that the King would be arriving in a state of some excitement.

  Abbot Hugh, of Swineshead, had been told to remain indoors throughout the morning. He was to expect visitors in the afternoon. The sun was getting low in the sky and the level of apprehension within him was growing rapidly. The door to the cloisters opened suddenly, breaking the atmosphere of still and quiet. He recognised his Cellerar.

  “Brother Abbot we have visitors. Two of the Templar knights. They have a monk accompanying them.”

  He hardly needed to have spoken, as the three men had entered the refectory before he had finished. The first of the Templars wasted no time on explanations.

  “You were expecting our arrival?”

  Hugh indicated that this was indeed the case.

  “We have been at the Wellstream. A calamity has occurred. The King’s baggage train has been caught by the tide. All have perished. There are no survivors.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “I have seen it with my own eyes.”

  “And you will tell King John on his arrival?”

  The Templar indicated the monk at his side.

  “Brother Simon here will be the bearer of the news.”

  The Abbot looked at the monk. At first glance, nothing appeared unusual. He was dressed in the customary white habit of a Cistercian monk. His hair cut in the familiar tonsure pattern. But on a closer examination there was something incongruous in his appearance. He had broad shoulders tapering to his waist and a hard look in his eyes. The Templar observed the Abbot’s searching look.

  “There is no need to concern yourself with my companion. He is well capable of doing what is required.”

  I’m sure he is, the Abbot thought to himself.

  October 5th 2010 – The Return

  The town didn’t look at its best from the train window on the final approach to the station. There was too much graffiti on the bridges. All sorts of litter spread out on the embankments. Detritus scattered over the backyards of the terraces that backed onto the tracks. The young soldier was glad to be back though. It seemed as though the last six months had encompassed a full lifetime.

  He pressed the button to open the door and threw his bags out on the platform. He couldn’t wait to see Eve and Chloe. But he was a bit worried about how they would react to h
is leg.

  Tom spotted them waiting by the wall. Chloe was sitting down with the trolley facing her. She seemed oblivious to the fact that the train had arrived. Tom thought she had lost weight, and her face looked pale and pinched. He gingerly stepped onto the platform with his good leg. Picking up his stick, he took a deep breath and walked over.

  “I’m back!”

  Chloe turned her face to him. It held a lost and haunted expression. Her gaze turned to her daughter. He looked down at the little girl’s face in the trolley. Shit, thought Tom. There was something seriously wrong here. He sat down next to them on the seat and listened to what had happened.

  October 16th 1216 A.D. – Swineshead – Receiving the News

  King John was in rare good humour. These days he often descended into a dark mood, brought on by news from the war. But the information from the Marshal’s son seemed to indicate that the campaign was turning in his favour. His jovial mood was however, about to evaporate.

  As the King and William Marshal, the Earl of Pembroke rode side by side up to the Abbey at Swineshead, where they were to overnight, they could see a knight, dressed in a Templar’s mantle, racing down the road towards them. William took a deep breath. This was where he would find out if Allard had succeeded.

  The knight galloped right up to the royal party, pulling hard on the reins as he brought the sweaty animal to an abrupt halt.

  “Your Majesty. You must hurry. There is dreadful news awaiting you at the Abbey.”

  King John looked at William who returned his stare. The two men kicked their heels. Their mounts surged forward and they followed the Templar who had already turned and was twenty yards away in the distance.

  As soon as they had arrived, the monk Brother Simon was summoned into John’s presence. He was required to give an account of what he had seen from the bank of the Wellstream. His vivid description of the terrible events shocked everyone in the room, apart of course from the Marshal.