The Green Stone

by Graham Phillips

  The Joshua figure on horseback held a long lance to his side, but the other figures held their swords, or, in Samson’s case, the jawbone, above their heads in an awkward horizontal position.

  ‘That’s the only thing that strikes me as unusual about the pictures,’ continued Graham. ‘They are all holding their weapons in the same way.’

  Andy studied the paintings and nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘it does seem odd. And I can’t help thinking I’ve seen that somewhere before.’

  Graham then suggested that they discover who it was that had commissioned the paintings. Was it really Humphrey Pakington as Joanna had claimed?

  ‘Let’s ask the guide,’ said Andy.

  The Pakington family had owned Harvington since 1529, when the property was bought by John Pakington, a rich lawyer much favoured by Henry VIII. But the first reference to the family living in the Hall is a letter dated January 1582-3, when Humphrey Pakington had taken up residence and begun the rebuilding.

  The Pakingtons were one of many Worcestershire families who refused to give allegiance to the Protestant Church during the reign of Elizabeth I, and had remained loyal to the Catholic Church.

  In the reign of Elizabeth I, severe punishments were inflicted in an attempt to suppress the Roman Catholic religion. Every priest was ordered to quit the kingdom on pain of death. The penalty for saying Mass included life imprisonment; to help or harbour a priest was a felony and as such punishable by hanging. Every Catholic was ordered to attend the Protestant parish church on Sunday or incur heavy fines if they refused. Those who did attend were known as Recusants. Humphrey Pakington was one such Recusant.

  But what about Humphrey Pakington and the Gunpowder Plot? Evidently, he had not been implicated, although he had spent many years confined to Harvington following the conspiracy. However, this had been a general policy for many of the Catholic gentry.

  So was this a possible explanation for the coded message, assuming it existed? If Pakington had been confined to Harvington, then he would have been unable to take the Stone out of the country. But perhaps there was no one else he felt he could trust. If, after all, the Stone was what Joanna had claimed, then his reluctance was understandable.

  On the other hand, he was more than likely being watched at every turn, and any messages would have been immediately intercepted.

  When questioned about Pakington’s later life, the guide explained that he had spent some years under house arrest. When eventually released, he had travelled to France, remaining there for some years before returning to Harvington, where he died in 1631.

  No one knew for sure who had commissioned the painting of the Nine Worthies, but it was certain to have been during Pakington’s time at the Hall.

  One particularly interesting point that the guide did mention concerning the Worthies, was the exceptional circumstances that had allowed the paintings to survive for so long. It seemed that in or around the year 1660, Pakington’s daughter Lady Mary Yate had the paintings whitewashed over. Why she should have done this is something of a mystery.

  The banqueting room at Harvington Hall

  If the Stone existed and Pakington had played his part as Joanna had claimed, then why was it never recovered? The most likely answer was that Pakington had not been a figure of major importance in the mystical society that Joanna had referred to, namely the Rosicrucians. Obviously, he knew quite a lot, including the Rosicrucian involvement, but perhaps not enough to know who the Rosicrucian fraternity really were. Otherwise he would have informed them of the whereabouts of the Stone upon his release from custody. This seemed pretty certain.

  Perhaps Pakington had been given the names of Rosicrucian members in 1605, but by the time of his release from house arrest during the 1620s it was possible that they were no longer living, or he was unable to locate them. Possibly his time in France was spent trying to make contact with the Rosicrucians.

  So it seemed likely that Pakington was merely an accessory called upon to help by Gertrude Wyntour, and perhaps the only person she could trust at a time when she herself was in grave peril.

  Andy and Graham left Harvington with more than enough to continue the search. As each new piece of evidence emerged, the Joanna story became more and more likely, not least the information regarding the whitewashing of the Nine Worthies. If Pakington’s daughter knew of the importance of the paintings, she may well have attempted to preserve them as best she could.

  ‘The important thing is to understand Humphrey Pakington,’ said Andy, as they drove away from Harvington. ‘Get to know his lifestyle, his movements, his friends, his situation. The more we know about Pakington, the more chance we have of beginning to think Pakington Logic.’

  ‘Pakington Logic?’ Graham repeated.

  ‘Yes. Put ourselves in his shoes. Think what we would have done in his situation. Decide where we would have hidden the Stone.’

  ‘So where do we go from here?’

  ‘Well, we know what happened to Pakington after the Gunpowder Plot, so let’s see what we can find out about Gertrude Wyntour.’

  The next stage in the search would therefore have to be Huddington Court, which still stands today. Unlike Harvington, however, Huddington is now a private residence tucked away in the Worcestershire countryside.

  The Gunpowder Plot had ended, as Joanna had described, with the last parting of the small band of conspirators from Huddington Court. All the people mentioned in the trance account had also existed, but so far nothing had been discovered about the Green Stone itself. Andy’s inquiries had so far shed no light on the mysterious Gertrude Wyntour, wife of conspirator Robert Wyntour, the country squire of Huddington. Following the ill-fated parting of her husband and the others there was a blank. What had befallen her?

  Chapter 6

  Pakington Logic

  About ten miles south-east of Harvington is the old Tudor court of Huddington, standing a little way back from a quiet country lane. The tiny hamlet of Huddington consists of only a few farm buildings and the occasional tithe cottage.

  On the old iron gates was the well-weathered sign, ‘Huddington Court’. The gates were jammed open by long grass and undergrowth that encroached upon the narrow driveway between tall unkempt hedgerows to either side. From the road the Court itself could not be seen. The trees that surrounded it were still well foliated with unfallen leaves. Could this centuries-old building hold a long-forgotten secret? Was there some local legend, some seldom narrated country tale of hidden treasure? A precious green gemstone hidden somewhere in the house? A priceless jewel that many had tried to find?

  Huddington Court

  Leaving the car to obtain a better view, they could make out a tall decorated chimney pot, like a finger pointing in accusation at the sky, standing alone above the thick foliage. The smell of the Autumn air, the soft breeze rustling through the trees and blowing the occasional falling leaf against the car. The atmosphere was one of romantic adventure, a sense of impending excitement and perhaps fulfilment.

  ‘Who lives here?’ Graham asked.

  Andy shrugged. ‘Joanna perhaps,’ he said, with a smile.

  And they both laughed.

  Following the driveway, the old manor slowly revealed itself. First the tall Elizabethan chimneys, then the uneven roof and the black timbers contrasting against the white walls. From without Huddington Court appeared almost as it must have looked to the ill-fated Gunpowder conspirators.

  The manor was neatly painted and the leaded bay windows unbroken. The driveway led to a second set of iron gates, and a full view of the Court.

  ‘The last known whereabouts of the Meonia Stone,’ said Andy, leaning over the gate.

  The wide driveway leading some thirty or forty yards from them towards the house was well kept, as was the neatly cut lawn which led to a wall ornamented with Grecian urns.

  As they gazed towards the old manor with its majestic gables, they could not help but picture that fateful day almost four centu
ries ago. Before dawn on a cold November morning, the dispirited band of conspirators had mounted their horses. Although frightened, some were still prepared to die for their faith, while others no longer cared. All were aware that their attempted flight to safety stood little chance of success. It must have been a moving sight. Robert Wyntour, who surely knew little of Catesby’s crazy intentions, embraced his wife and children for the last time. As he joined his comrades on the journey that would eventually lead him to the gallows, he no doubt gazed back to see Gertrude standing bravely, forcing back her tears. Perhaps Robert Catesby, the chief conspirator, also halted his mount at the gateway for a last look at Gertrude clasping the precious gemstone he had entrusted to her. The sacred relic that had meant so much to so many for so long, passed on for centuries to vanish for ever from that mysterious sect as Catesby turned his horse and rode away into the early morning mists. Now, three hundred and seventy-four years later, two young men had arrived at the same gateway, prompted by some unimaginable force to return and reclaim the Meonia Stone.

  The place looked deserted as they rang the doorbell. At first there was no answer. They rang again. An elderly lady leant out of one of the ground-floor windows. Andy told her they were researching for magazine feature.

  ‘We’re investigating a local historical mystery about the Gunpowder Plot. Can we speak with the present owner of the house, please?’

  They were not the first people inquiring into the history of Huddington Court. The woman said that the owner was in the garden and would be pleased to help them, if possible. They made their way into the grounds behind the house, following the narrow path, flanked by privet hedges and rhododendron bushes, and crossed a stone bridge spanning the slow-moving stream that wound its way past the house towards the River Avon. On the other side of the stream the garden became a little wilder, with an old sundial, statuettes and a summer house. They had almost given up hope of locating anyone in the maze of gravel-covered pathways, when, as if from nowhere, an elderly gentleman appeared.

  Andy quickly told his story and their belief that a jewel or stone might have been hidden after the Gunpowder Plot.

  The old man had never heard of any such legend, although he knew about the events of the plot concerning his house. However, he did know something about Gertrude Wyntour.

  Gertrude had not been implicated in the plot, and the authorities had been satisfied that she was ignorant of her husband’s and brother-in-law’s activities. Her younger brother-in-law, John Wyntour, had been condemned to death, for no reason other than because he was their brother. Like Pakington, Gertrude was confined to house arrest and spent the rest of her life at Huddington.

  Andy and Graham asked him about the later life of Gertrude Wyntour. Had she perhaps left anything behind, a portrait maybe, or something she had made or commissioned? Yes, she had, replied the old man. A set of Mass vestments on which she had spent much of her time during her imprisonment at Huddington. Could these possibly hold some sort of clue? Unlikely, but worth a try. The vestments were now at the Roman Catholic chapel at Kemerton in Gloucestershire.

  Before they left, the owner told them that one of the windows, the east window of the old dining hall, is still called ‘Lady Wyntour’s Window’. Tradition says that from there she watched for her husband’s return. And more. Her ghost had been seen on a number of occasions. The spectral apparition of a dark-clad woman gazing forlornly from the window.

  As they drove away from Huddington, Andy and Graham looked up at the window, half expecting Lady Wyntour’s ghost to manifest and help them solve the mystery.

  As the days passed, many hours were spent researching the tumultuous years of history surrounding the Gunpowder Plot, but nowhere was there evidence or record of the illusive Green Stone.

  Graham spent many hours poring over the pictures of the Nine Worthies, while Andy telephoned or visited different experts known to them through Parasearch. Authorities on the occult and Rosicrucian history were consulted, but nothing new emerged. Phone calls to the psychics who had forwarded the messages over the weeks also proved fruitless.

  When Terry Shotton arrived at the headquarters that Thursday evening, 18 October, he found the front room office littered with maps, charts and open books.

  Andy had tried another line of inquiry. Had anyone else, apart from Pakington and Gertrude, known the secret and imparted information about the location of the Stone? What about the surviving conspirators rounded up at Holbeach? Perhaps they had attempted to send word in code of its hiding place during their interrogations? Their statements would have been read aloud at the trials. But once again this drew a blank, apart from the mention by Thomas Wyntour, extracted under torture in the Tower of London, that before his death Catesby had ‘took from his neck a cross of gold which he always used to wear about him’. Perhaps Catesby had once worn the Stone in the cross around his neck? (1)

  Terry had felt that Alan Beard’s vision of the Stone and Berry Ring was significant, and he decided to visit the old fort to see it for himself. He reasoned that perhaps the Stone was hidden at Berry Ring. Indeed, three of them had already been instructed to go there by Joanna at midnight on 12 October, and Alan’s vision had linked the Stone and the ancient fort. Maybe he would receive a psychic impression.

  As he stood alone in the cattle field that is now the central plateau of the ring, he felt something indescribable, a feeling that somehow it had all happened before, that same indistinct but nevertheless real sense that the others had felt when, at dead of night, they too had journeyed there.

  Terry decided to visit the medium, Penny Blackwill, to see if she had had another psychic impression that could help. She had not. Nor could Alan Beard help further. Terry then felt that it might be a good idea to sweep Berry Ring with a metal detector; if the Stone was set in a pewter ring then a detector would find it. However, because of the time involved, he decided to await further developments that might positively indicate that Berry Ring was the correct site.

  As the three of them sat talking late into the evening they felt a sense of urgency. But why? If the Stone had lain hidden for nearly four centuries, then it could surely wait a little longer. Or could it? Joanna had said that it must be found by 31 October, because others were also searching for it. Perhaps it was only Joanna’s words which gave them this sense of urgency. Or was there perhaps something more?

  ‘Why the hell should the thirty-first of October be important?’ asked Terry.

  ‘It’s Halloween,’ said Andy, half seriously.

  ‘The night of witches,’ joked Terry.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Andy. ‘I don’t think we should underestimate the wisdom of the ancients, who believed that magical powers could be invoked on Halloween.’ (2)

  Was Joanna implying that on this day the Stone could call upon these primeval forces? And was there really some opposite group also seeking the Stone? These questions would have to wait; now they must concentrate on their search. What should be their next step?

  They decided that their best hope of solving the riddle was to put themselves into Pakington’s and Gertrude Wyntour’s situation.

  It seemed certain that Pakington had only become involved unwittingly, and the same probably applied to Gertrude. Both knew to whom they had to take the Stone, but as Catholics closely associated with the conspirators they were arrested. They had little time to act. So had there been a pre-arranged hiding place for the Stone, agreed with the Rosicrucians? Probably not, for the plot had backfired at the last moment.

  It was probable that Catesby had instructed Gertrude Wyntour to take the Stone to a specific person, but the urgency of the situation had prevented this. She had therefore sought the aid of her close friend and fellow Catholic Humphrey Pakington.

  Perhaps a messenger had arrived at Harvington Hall and told Pakington to make haste to Huddington. There Gertrude and Pakington devised a plan to hide the Stone. But if so, why had they not despatched a messenger to the Rosicrucian contact? Most likel
y they could find no trustworthy person. The discovery of the Catholic plot would have cast suspicion on the employees as government informers, and even if they were not they knew they were likely to suffer interrogation. The threat of the rack and other tortures would be sufficient to make them bargain for their freedom in order to prove their loyalty to the Crown. What better hope for clemency than to deliver a secret message into the hands of the government? What could Gertrude and Pakington do in such fearful circumstances?

  ‘We must think Pakington logic,’ Andy repeated.

  Where would they decide to hide the Stone? In some place that the Rosicrucians would be able to find, assuming they knew enough to understand the symbolism and traditions.

  At the time of hiding the Stone, Pakington would not know he would live to leave a permanent message. That came later. The Stone’s hiding place needed to be obvious to their Rosicrucian colleagues.

  ‘But they did live,’ protested Terry, ‘and they may have moved it from its original place when they had more time.’

  ‘I disagree,’ said Andy. ‘I believe they couldn’t risk collecting it because they were being watched. They were also prevented from getting a message or the Stone itself out.’

  ‘Unless it was in the house somewhere,’ said Terry.

  ‘Again, too much of a risk. They might have been searched.’

  So where could Pakington and Gertrude have hidden the Stone? Did they believe that any hiding place would have to remain undiscovered for many years? If so, this would have influenced their choice.

  What were the possibilities? Where would they have hidden the Stone? In an old building, beneath a statue, a wayside cross, in a tomb or vault, or merely buried it in the ground?

  The researchers tried to imagine, as Pakington must have done, a Rosicrucian messenger arriving one day in the future in search of the Meonia Stone. What had happened to it? Surely their comrades must have deposited it somewhere where it could be found?