In amongst the lunatic and plain weird postings were several stories, photographs and references from news sites and research journals. Dr Minerva Finch, it turned out, had been a brilliant and acclaimed expert on the Roman Empire, and early medieval and Byzantine history, a historian, archaeologist and artefact collector. She had been tipped to become the youngest professor to hold the Augustan Chair of History and Archaeology at Oxford University.
But then things had started to go wrong. She had led a media drive to make ancient history more accessible to the general public, trying to show how similar we all are as human beings then and now, just with different conventions. But she had also started to suggest that some of the ancient texts she was studying contained hidden knowledge about sources of great power, now lost or destroyed.
Her academic colleagues, however, had become jealous of her growing fame and regular TV appearances. They’d begun to pour scorn on her scholarship and belittled her at international conferences. Finally, she was accused of plagiarism by bitter academic rivals. After that, although she was cleared of these accusations, things did not return to normal. Dr Finch had all her funding and academic connections severed by disapproving institutions and it seems that even her friends had deserted her. She then disappeared from public life.
But two years ago, her name suddenly surfaced in an article in the Washington Post that linked Dr Finch to the disappearance of a priceless gold ikon, recently recovered in Istanbul’s Basilica Cisterns, hidden in the deep dark subterranean pools of old Constantinople. The sacred ikon was pure gold, its holy figures were intricately made with brightly coloured enamels and silver and gold inlay, all surrounded by precious gemstones. There had been huge excitement because it was rumoured that this was the ikon referenced in ancient Justinian scriptures and was said to have had a tiny, hinged, metal door through which, if opened, the holder would have a direct connection to God.
It sounded incredible, a bit scary and obviously not true. But then again, he wondered if Dr Finch had thought the same and so had been tempted to open the little door, daring to look on the face of God, or whatever was behind the door, and it had sent her insane. Alfie tried to imagine what on earth he’d say or see if he had been in her position to be able to open the door. There might be nothing there, just an image, a mirror or something. Or there might be something else altogether… After some thought, he quickly decided that it was definitely not a good thing to do. Best to keep it closed, and even hidden. Maybe that was the real reason why it had been buried so deep in the catacombs and cisterns of Istanbul.
But then again, what if…
His mind went on to spark other ideas, and his thoughts turned to what he’d heard and seen in the wood. What if that really was Dr Finch near the old Abbey? And what if she really did think the Grail was hidden here somewhere and was planning to take it? What if the Grail is real? What if it really has magical powers? And he couldn’t not think it: what if I could find the Grail first and it was able to save Mum?
He suddenly felt a little foolish and desperate, blushing at his own thoughts. So he determined that he wouldn’t let anyone else know about this desolate hope, they’d all think he was bonkers, and then he’d end up being referred to social services. But he knew in his heart that he had to try, the alternative was too awful, watching his mother slowly fade away. The summer holidays were due to start in a few days’ time, and he still needed to choose a project to work on.
This is it… he thought, my project will be to find the Grail. I have to find the Grail before Dr Finch.