Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (19 page)

‘We’ll soon find him,’ I heard Father Will tell Elaine as they moved slowly along the darkening passage and into the network of ruined cottage-style cells.

Then a strange thing happened. Prior Tuck’s voice rose above the gentle chatter of the audience and the remaining helpers and monkstables lapsed into silence.

‘Everyone, pray silence for a moment. I want all the monkstables to offer two minutes of silent personal prayer for the success of this operation, and then immediately afterwards I shall ask everyone to join in a prayer known to us all – Pater Noster, otherwise known as the Our Father. We shall say it in English.’

Amazingly everyone became still and silent as the searchers moved slowly into the depths. Heads were bowed as people considered their own thoughts. After a couple minutes, Prior Tuck began the Our Father with everyone joining in.

And in the silence of the moments that followed, they all said ‘Amen’.

By then, Father Will and Elaine had disappeared with only their long white tails of rope indicating their progress ever deeper into the dark, dank labyrinth.

I
WASN’T SURE
how long we were expected to remain quiet, but we watched in silence as the rescuers disappeared into the darkness of the ancient buried corridors. From our vantage point, the reflected light of their bobbing torches marked the progress and we could see some old cells that were close to us. They glistened with dampness between patches of bright green moss which must support various kinds of subterranean wild life. The onlookers began to whisper to one another, but the sense of tension remained as we all settled down for what might become a long and nervous wait.

As my eyes became accustomed to the exposed areas of gloom, I could see there was water in the passage they had used. Some of the footway seemed to be standing in several inches with the other parts being thick with mud and
unidentified
debris. I began to wonder if any of the areas further inside were flooded, if so to what depth? Were there dangerous pits and pools? It was probable that any drainage system would have become blocked after centuries without
maintenance
, with the ever-present water finding its own levels and outlets.

So far as we could tell, Elaine and Father Will had not confronted any problems as they continued into the depths occasionally calling the names of Simon and the dogs. At our distance we could not hear whether or not they received replies but were aware of their voices gradually diminishing in volume. I wondered if they would be able to hear any sounds
from the network of walls and corridors but the searchers were now beyond the buzz of the waiting crowd.

Prior Tuck remained at my side. Suddenly he said, ‘Nick, we don’t have a doctor on site. Really we should have one here, there may be injuries.’

‘You have one or two in the monastery, I believe,’ I responded.

‘Yes, Father Raymund qualified. I’ll contact him. He’s not one of the monkstables but I shouldn’t have any trouble finding him.’

‘He sounds ideal. How do we get in touch with him from here?’

‘I’ll ask Father Alban, he’s one of the monkstables standing over there. I prefer to keep Father Miller here in case we need his strength in a rescue attempt.’

Father Alban Dale, one of the monkstables and a slightly built man in his early fifties, had been very quiet throughout the day’s events. I knew him to be a thoughtful man who enjoyed nothing better than a quiet pint in a traditional English village pub. One of his ambitions was to visit every Marian shrine in Britain and Ireland and compile a book about them, and it was his determination to achieve that aim that took him into many village inns for his meals and a pint of local ale. There were stories of him being challenged by local drinkers to games of darts or billiards – his dog collar attracted that kind of attention. He would accept such challenges and then go on to win every game – he was a former champion snooker and billiards player, a keen darts player. He had also been known to lead singing sessions in some pubs.

‘Father Alban,’ Prior Tuck called to him. ‘Can you find Father Raymund and ask him to join us? Explain what it’s all about and say we need him to stand-by as a doctor – and it’s time to chase up the ambulance.’

And so, with Oscar Blaketon sitting in the driving seat of the police dog van with Ventress at his side, both listening for any communications from Elaine, we all settled down among an ever-increasing crowd of spectators. Now that Father Will and
Elaine had disappeared from view and were out of ear-shot we began to talk more freely. A powerful atmosphere of
expectation
and hope enveloped us as eventually the topics for conversations were exhausted and long silences followed. A natural sense of anticipation followed as we awaited news. I wondered how the team would cope if they encountered a blockage anywhere but was confident they would summon help if necessary. I could hear the call-signs of the occasional radio signal being transmitted to the police dog van but it was too far away from me to hear anything. I thought the calls would be from Elaine as she kept in touch with Oscar to announce they were proceeding deeper into the labyrinth without any problems and without any more positive news. It was a pity we could not map out their route from above, but that was impossible. As the tension increased, I walked away from the gathering, not to distance myself from any action that might follow but to reflect on what I was witnessing. After all, I had a very great interest in this location.

As the new owner, I would become responsible for
maintaining
the old site and making it safe even if its visitors were trespassers. I knew enough about the law to realize that landowners owed a duty of care to everyone who ventured onto their property, including those not invited. It could be an expensive asset! I had no money to maintain it even though, according to my solicitor, there was a cash inheritance of around £55,000 and a house in Scotland. Maybe I should sell my Scottish interests? But something as simple and basic as the installation of safety features and a new security fence would require most of my available cash. As I tried to
anticipate
how I would cope with my new responsibilities, I was aware of someone approaching me. It was Abbot Merryman.

‘Nick, I saw you there looking thoughtful so I thought I’d have a quick word. I’ve just spoken to Prior Tuck and he’s updated me. He tells me the monkstables have played a very significant part in this and in the murder investigation. As you’ll understand, I have to compile a written report for our trustees,
so I wondered what your reactions are? I only need it verbally at this stage, because the trustees have already started ringing for my comments! I am amazed at how rapidly word spreads!’

‘Who is spreading the news?’ was my immediate reaction.

‘One of our trustees lives in Maddleskirk, Nick, and he was told by a friend who works for the college. I have to provide an accurate account of Simon’s disappearance and the murder investigation.’

‘So much for trying to keep this story under wraps,’ I said. ‘Rumours and wild stories are easily generated – I’m surprised no newspaper or local radio station has been on to us.’

‘They have. I’ve already taken a call from a news agency in York. I dealt with it – told them it was nothing more than a training exercise for our fledgling constables. That appeared to satisfy him as he knew about the monkstables because he’d covered the story at their inception. He asked no further
questions
and wished us luck. Surprisingly, he didn’t mention the murder.’

‘Good, well, I can update you from my own point of view and I’ll begin by praising all the monkstables – I know the task isn’t over but they’ve done extremely well so far,’ and I outlined the entire operation as I had seen it, hoping I had not omitted anything of importance.

As I talked to him, the small crowd of onlookers moved to encircle the police dog van where Oscar Blaketon and Alf Ventress were virtually running a minor police control room with regular input from Elaine and Father Will. We could all hear their progress so we were not standing around and awaiting results; those closest to the van could hear the best.

‘They’re all captivated,’ smiled the abbot. ‘This is real, not a TV drama.’

‘Father Prior is in charge.’ I felt I should stress that. ‘He’s got the monkstables performing crowd control. But now for
something
quite different, Father Abbot. Have you time to listen to something important, perhaps almost under the seal of
confession
?’

‘Of course, Nick. What on earth’s happened?’

We walked away to distance ourselves from any listeners but I was not sure how to begin. I did not want to take up too much of his valuable time but felt he should now be aware of my inheritance. Satisfied we were out of hearing, I began. ‘Father Abbot, suppose I mentioned the abbey’s relationship with the owners of Ashwell Priory, and all that goes with it – the woodland, the holy well, those old barns….’

‘There’s hardly any relationship, Nick, certainly not a meaningful one. The owners won’t talk to us. They don’t maintain the site and it was we who erected that wire fence to keep our trespassing students safe. The owners don’t visit the area or acknowledge our correspondence. You know their history? That they are an old Scottish Protestant landowning family.’

I paused for a few moments.

‘Yes, Mr Cheslington told me. Father, suppose I told you that I’m going to be the new owner of Ashwell Priory Estate? Only a few days ago, and as a complete shock, I received news of an inheritance. It was a bolt from the blue. I had no idea I had Scottish ancestors, let alone those who were estate owners. Mr Cheslington, with whom I believe you are acquainted, is acting on my behalf.’

He stared at me as if I had confessed to the murder of Prior Tuck and I heard a brief expulsion of his breath. ‘Are you serious, Nick? You’ve taken the wind right out of my sails.’

‘I’m serious, Father.’ I told him about the original owners’ family line becoming extinct, and how I had been traced as the eldest male of an obscure line of cousins. All the religious restrictions placed on the inheritance of Ashwell Priory had been wiped out with the end of the main family line, leaving me as the surprised beneficiary.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘I thought you ought to know, in confidence. You’ve treated me with respect in telling me about Simon’s true family, so I am now returning the compliment.’

‘What are your plans?’ he waved his hands around in a grand gesture.

‘I have absolutely no idea. I’ve not had time to think about it, but seeing all this carnage has made me realize that I could have inherited some serious problems and responsibilities.’

‘Are you actually the owner of this now?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘I’m not sure whether I became the owner at the moment the original owner died, or when my particular circumstances were determined, or when I sign on the dotted line. All I can say at the moment is that I have not signed anything but expect to do so next week.’

‘I don’t really know what to say, except perhaps
congratulations
,’ admitted the abbot. ‘I’m stunned. Thank you telling me, it gives me time to adjust to the idea that, at last, Ashwell Priory has returned to Catholic ownership as it was in the beginning. I am presuming you are aware of our long term interest in it?’

‘I am indeed, Father Abbot, but now that I am its owner, I am not sure how I shall deal with it.’

‘I’ll keep this to myself of course, but once the paperwork is complete, perhaps you’ll get in touch? That’s if you want to discuss it further! After all, it is really nothing to do with me or the abbey trustees but I hope you will keep in mind our interest in that patch of land.’

‘I’ll keep in touch,’ I promised. ‘I might want your help and advice.’

As we ended our conversation, there was a burst of activity at van as its radio burst into life with Elaine’s voice. All further conversation was terminated as we hurried closer to hear what was happening.

I heard Elaine’s distinct voice. ‘Sierra Two Five to base, are you receiving? Over.’

‘Receiving, go ahead. Over,’ replied Oscar. Everyone lapsed into a deep silence at this exchange. Blaketon had turned up the volume so that everyone, including the bystanders, could hear what was being said.

‘Sierra Two Five to base, we think we have found a body. We cannot be certain; we cannot reach it without moving a lot of debris. It is in darkness and beyond the effective reach of our lights. Over.’

‘Do you need assistance? Over?’

‘Not at this point, we need to examine it from a closer range, but we have found Holmes.’ The relief was clear in Elaine’s tearful voice as she added in a lower voice. ‘He is guarding his discovery and did not speak because it is not living.’

‘Keep your radio open all the time,’ suggested Blaketon as all around him lapsed into a deep silence. ‘Can you give us a verbal account as you make your approach? Talk naturally to your colleague, we shall hear both of you.’

I wondered why the dog had not ‘spoken’ when making this awful discovery but perhaps he had, and perhaps he had been too far away, or too deep inside the ruins for any of us to hear him. With these thoughts, I lapsed into silence as did everyone else, all focusing on the van and its crew of police pensioners who were staffing the radio.

Listening to Father Will and Elaine discussing their moves and plans was eerie in the extreme and highly emotional. They had to move a lot of branches and tree trunks, stones and mud and it was slow progress. Then Father Will’s voice came through loud and clear. ‘Sorry for the false alarm,’ he breathed. ‘It’s not a body Holmes has been guarding. It looks like a dead body, but in fact it’s a stone statue of a young man or boy, about three-quarters life size and in surprisingly good condition.’

‘A statue? Is it moveable?’ asked Oscar.

‘Yes, but it will be heavy and we wouldn’t want to use the stretcher.’

‘Have you further details?’

‘Not many, but it is beautifully carved and seems to
represent
a saint.’

‘The missing St Luke …’ whispered the Abbot. ‘I wonder if there is a winged ox near it?’ I had no idea what he meant by that comment. St Luke and a winged ox?

Oscar Blaketon broke into my thoughts as he spoke into his microphone. ‘We’ll have it examined when it is recovered. I’m sure we can prevail upon our construction helpers to fetch it out. It needs to be removed as it’s probably causing an
obstruction
and might cause difficulties when we bring Simon out. I’ll arrange some means of transporting it out of there. Are you able to continue your search in the meantime?’

‘Yes, we can step over it. We are now resuming our patrol and are proceeding towards our objective. Sierra Two Five out.’

Oscar Blaketon turned in his seat to look at the crowd now gathered around him. He saw me with the abbot.

‘Did you hear that?’ he asked of anyone who might respond. The sense of relief was clear in his voice.

Many in the crowd shouted ‘Yes’ and some added ‘Thank you’.