Waking up to find normal included Prior Athan gave Hermitage a strong inclination to jump back in the sewer. That Nicodemus was standing next to him made him think that he was back in De’Ath’s Dingle. How could that have happened? Perhaps he had started drowning in that awful monastery and all the intervening time had been a dream. Or a nightmare. There was no King William, he wasn’t King’s Investigator. Back to normal then. What a truly horrible thought.
He looked around, dragging his terrified eyes away from Athan. Wat and Cwen were there, along with Brother Egbert and some other monk he’d never seen before who had his cowl pulled low over his face. So it was true, all his memories were accurate. King William was real, he was King’s Investigator and Athan was in this small room with them. There was another opening from the drain here but it seemed to be into a simple square stone room with no immediately obvious way out. Perhaps in was some feature of the drain’s construction. Nicodemus and Athan had obviously arrived some time earlier as they were bone dry and had two oil lamps burning to illuminate the drear scene. Definitely a nightmare then.
‘What?’ he managed to say.
‘We just dragged you from the tunnel full of water,’ Athan growled at him. ‘Although personally I’d have let you float away.’
Same old Athan then.
‘How? Who? When?’ the questions tripped over themselves as he found his voice.
Nicodemus brushed Athan aside and looked down at Hermitage who was still soaking all over the floor. ‘We too have been sent by the King, young Hermitage,’ Nicodemus said, in that manner that made Hermitage clasp his habit close before it was stolen from his back. ‘And fortunate that we were, it seems. Rescuing you and these,’ he waved a dismissive hand, ‘people from almost certain death.’
‘But, but, but,’ Hermitage butted. ‘At the monastery in De’Ath’s Dingle? The King? I thought…’ He thought that the King had put Nicodemus and Athan firmly in their place and that they might at least be in a dungeon somewhere by now. If not actually dead. It hadn’t even entered his head to think he would ever see either of them again. If it had, of course he would have worried himself sick over the prospect. Now he had to get sick very quickly. He tried telling himself that Athan wasn’t his prior anymore and so wouldn’t simply start hitting him again. He confirmed to his mind that he wasn’t in De’Ath’s Dingle anymore. That Wat and Cwen were here to protect him. It didn’t help much when Athan was glaring at him in that way he had. The way he looked at everyone.
‘Ah,’ said Nicodemus in his knowing way, ‘poor King Harold.’ He shook his head in the manner of a sad person but without any sadness. ‘Taken from us so soon after his encounter at De’Ath’s Dingle. And now King William.’ Nicodemus rubbed his hands. ‘He appears to have given us both work to do.’ Nicodemus smiled the smile of a toad in a bucket of worms.
Hermitage just swallowed. He looked at his companions and saw that they were not in a much better state than he was. They all looked bedraggled and had obviously shared his experience of Roman drainage. Cwen seemed a bit more alert and was glaring at Athan with the glare she only used on special occasions. It occurred to Hermitage that there must have been some discussion between people while he was out of his senses. From the look of that glare it had been a lively conversation and Cwen was still harbouring some ill intent towards Athan in particular. Cwen’s harbour for ill intent was a capacious facility.
Wat was looking generally disgusted. ‘I think I swallowed some,’ he said, with a grimace.
‘But at least you are alive, master weaver,’ Nicodemus sneered with disappointment. ‘You and your little friend.’ He waved a hand in Cwen’s direction.
Cwen held up a hand, bidding Nicodemus to wait a moment as she had something to say. She coughed and wiped her hair free of the water. ‘As soon as we’re fully recovered,’ she croaked and spluttered, ‘I’ll come over there and dip you in the drain until your head stops working.’
Athan took half a step forward and took the full brunt of that glare. ‘And you,’ she said, as if Athan had been scraped off the bottom of the sewer. ‘I’ve heard all about you from Hermitage.’ Athan had clearly been accused, tried and convicted in his absence. And now Cwen was ready to do the execution bit.
The ex-prior paused, perhaps seeing something in Cwen that reminded of himself. He contented himself with an inaudible grumble.
Wat interrupted the hostile atmosphere. ‘Charming as this reunion may be, any chance of discussing just what in God’s bristling beard is going on?’
Hermitage’s state was such that he couldn’t even raise objection to Wat’s usual profane language. Athan was in a small room with him. All of his terrors were running around the inside of his head, trying to decide which one of them should take charge.
‘Of course,’ Nicodemus was suddenly all lightness and charm, as if considering what colour they should paint the walls. ‘Someone is trying kill you,’ he said simply.
‘Not you?’ Hermitage blurted out, before he could stop himself.
‘No,’ said Nicodemus, not in the least disturbed by the accusation. ‘Someone else altogether. Now normally this would not worry me at all, but they appear to be trying to kill me as well.’
‘That I can understand,’ said Wat.
‘The questions are why and who?’ Nicodemus went on.
‘I think my question is what the devil you are doing here?’ Wat appeared to have recovered most quickly of all of them. ‘Last time we saw you two the King had just expressed a very low opinion of the pair of you. I find it hard to believe King William has taken you into his trust. At least not if he has the faintest idea what sort of people he’s dealing with.’
Nicodemus waved the criticism away.
‘And of course this is the Monasterium Tene-what-not,’ Wat went on. ‘Supposedly a repository of great treasure. I can only assume that you are here to get your hands on it.’
Nicodemus and Athan looked like they weren’t listening.
‘The King sent Brody off to get Hermitage here,’ Wat was thinking as he went. ‘We came to look into the death of Ignatius.’ He narrowed his eyes and drilled them at Nicodemus as if he could drag the truth out of the man. ‘I reckon you happened to hear about it and came of your own accord. Trying to better yourself at the expense of others. As usual.’ He smiled, content with his own deductions. ‘And who’s your little friend?’ he gestured at the cowled monk who looked like he was trying to vanish into the stonework.
‘No idea,’ Nicodemus replied. ‘Just some monk.’
Egbert dragged himself to his feet, water running from his habit which was just as soaked as Hermitage’s. He stepped over to the monk and whipped the cowl back without any ceremony. ‘Brother Lefric? What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Aha,’ Brother Lefric looked surprised to find himself in this dim and dingy hole, as if he had wandered in when he wasn’t looking where he was going. ‘Just, sort of, erm, caught up, you know.’
‘Caught up?’ Egbert examined Lefric’s habit. ‘You’re bone dry. You must have come in with these two.’
‘Erm,’ Lefric looked around, perhaps hoping that the answer to the question was written on the wall somewhere - which would be no help anyway as he couldn’t read. ‘Just showing them around.’
‘Showing them around?’ Egbert was aghast. ‘Just showing some total strangers around the most secret monastery in the kingdom?’
‘Well,’ Lefric began, but went no further.
‘And ending up in some underground chamber with the sea running by underneath?’
‘Ah,’ Lefric seemed to appreciate the true depth and breadth of hole he was in.
‘We shall have words, Brother,’ Egbert said, making it quite clear the words weren’t going to be nice ones. He turned to Nicodemus and Athan. ‘And what do you mean, someone’s trying to kill us?’
Nicodemus held his hands out, an innocent look on his face saying that he was only reporting facts. Unfortunately, innocent looks didn’t fit on Nicodemus’s face and he looked like he’d just robbed his grandmother’s grave and was selling the contents to his grandfather. ‘I think someone opened the sea gate while you were in the tunnel,’ he said. ‘And believe me, if I’d done it I wouldn’t hesitate to take the credit.’
Egbert frowned at the suggestion but had no immediate reply.
‘And,’ Nicodemus continued, ‘I suspect this may be the same person who removed a tie stone in the chapel wall which nearly made us fall to our deaths.’
Egbert glared for an explanation.
‘We just happened to be passing by the inside of the chapel wall,’ Nicodemus observed, as if they’d been strolling in the woods. ‘We were sort of up near the roof and when we came down again, someone had taken away one of the steps.’
‘Up in the roof of the chapel listening to us,’ Wat concluded. ‘Before hurrying down to the drain before us in order to steal whatever there was and be off.’
‘Nothing of the kind,’ Nicodemus reassured them. ‘In fact you’re lucky we were here or you’d all be the drowned bodies frightening the monks in their privies by now.’
‘Yes,’ said Hermitage, trying to move the conversation on as he was always uncomfortable when the people around him weren’t getting on. He also hoped it would take his mind of Athan. ‘What is this place?’
They all looked around the room and could see no obvious function. Through the hole in the floor the sea water still bubbled and frothed, although the first strength of its arrival had faded. At least it wasn’t coming up to join them.
‘Must be part of the drain construction,’ Wat speculated. ‘Perhaps an overflow, or somewhere the builders used when they were putting the thing together in the first place.’
‘There doesn’t seem to be a way out,’ Hermitage observed. Well, there was, but it was full of sea water now and he was pretty sure that he would not be able to swim back underwater to the point they came in. He’d be able to drown quite easily but that defeated the object rather.
The stones of this chamber were very closely packed and any gaps that there were had mortar pressed neatly into every joint. The ceiling, the floor and the walls were all the same. There appeared to be no door and there was certainly no window.
‘How do we get out?’ Hermitage asked.
‘Wait ‘till the sea goes down again?’ Egbert suggested.
‘Why would it do that?’ Wat asked. ‘Now that it’s been let in.’
‘Low tide?’ said Egbert.
‘I think we’d need Moses to make this sea go that low.’
Hermitage tutted at the suggestion. He was starting to feel his old self again. ‘Is it getting warm in here?’ he asked.
The others looked at him and the expressions on their faces said that yes, they were starting to feel a bit warmer.
‘Probably all the people,’ said Cwen. ‘Why don’t these three jump in the water?’ she waved a hand to cover Nicodemus, Athan and Lefric.
‘Why don’t we throw you in,’ said Athan. ‘You’re already wet.’
‘This is not helpful,’ Egbert tried to exert some authority. ‘There are quite a few of us in a confined space with the water blocking the only way out. We just need to think.’
Hermitage did so. ‘I say,’ he burbled with enthusiasm, ‘I think I’ve just had a thought.’
‘Oh God,’ Athan mumbled, not really to himself. ‘I’d forgotten just how annoying he could be.’
Egbert waved him to silence. ‘What is it brother?’
‘I think we’re suffocating,’ Hermitage said, brightly. Very pleased at having worked this out so quickly.
‘We’re what?’
‘Suffocating?’ Hermitage sounded fascinated. ‘From suffocare, to choke? Itself from sub, below and fauces, the throat. You see the room is tightly sealed all around us and the water is filling the hole below. This means that no life-giving humours can get it in.’
They all looked completely lost.
‘It’s been well known for many years,’ Hermitage explained. ‘The ancient Greeks understood. The four humours?’ he was disappointed that his audience appeared completely ignorant of these very basic facts. ‘Blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm.’
‘Which have what do with air?’ Wat asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
Hermitage shook his head. He really was going to have to go back to basics. ‘The humour, blood, is associated with the element air. Earth, air, fire and water, yes?’ There were at least some half-hearted nods at this. ‘We all know blood is produced by the liver.’ No nods this time. ‘So therefore, if there is no air our livers will stop working, we’ll run out of blood and we’ll die. Suffocation. See?’
‘Oh great,’ said Cwen. ‘Nice to have it explained.’
‘So we just need to get some air. Our livers are over-excited and are making us hot.’
‘And how do we get air in a sealed box?’ Athan demanded.
Hermitage didn’t have an answer to that. He thought he’d explained the problem very well, surely he didn’t have to think of everything.
‘Knock a hole in the wall?’ Egbert offered.
‘Be my guest,’ Nicodemus gestured to the solid walls that surrounded them and the complete absence of hole-knocking tools.
‘Search the walls,’ Wat instructed them all. ‘See if you can find a loose stone or some weak spot we can have a go at.’
They all moved, slowly and with much panting, to the walls and started to examine them closely. They were now blinking sweat out of their eyes and found simply standing up to be quite exhausting.
‘They’re very well made,’ said Hermitage, admiring the quality of the workmanship that had gone into what might turn out to be their tomb.
Nobody was saying anything as they gave their attention to the task right in front of their eyes.
‘Anything?’ Wat asked the room.
Mumbled negatives filled the air.
‘Well,’ said Cwen, from her corner, ‘it’s not a gap but I don’t know what it is.’
The whole group made their way to the section of wall Cwen was pointing at. Having seven people crowding round one small section of wall was not conducive to seeing anything at all.
‘Get back, get back,’ said Wat, pushing them all away. When there was space he looked at the wall. ‘What?’ he demanded of Cwen, not seeing anything at all.
‘That,’ said Cwen, pointing at one of the large stones of the wall which had a definite symbol carved in its surface.
‘So?’ Wat asked, not seeing anything that was going to help his liver.
‘Well, I don’t know do I?’ Cwen snapped back. ‘It’s different from the rest though.’
Hermitage pressed his way through the crowd to see what the fuss was. ‘Ah,’ he said, seeing the image carved on the stone, ‘that’s the Fasces.’ The shape on the stone was a series of parallel lines, each closed off at both ends with the clear outline of an axe head at one end of the lines.
‘Faskays,’ Wat repeated. ‘And that helps how?’
‘No idea,’ said Hermitage. ‘But as Cwen says it is different.’
‘I expect,’ said Athan with enough weight in his voice to sink through the floor, ‘Brother Hermitage is going to explain what it is.’
Of course he was. ‘It’s a bundle of rods bound together with an axe in the middle.’
‘Excellent,’ said Athan. ‘That’s explained that then.’
‘Generally a symbol of authority,’ Hermitage went on, invited or not. ‘The magistratum or court would use it as a mark of their status.’
‘So what’s it doing there?’ Cwen asked. ‘Who’d have a court down here? Fishes?’
‘Well, no one,’ Hermitage acknowledged. He thought that it was indeed a very strange place to bother with a mark of this sort. Perhaps the stone had been somewhere else originally and was re-used for the drain. Or perhaps… ‘This could be what Ignatius sent us to find,’ he said, with excitement.
‘A stone with a mark on it in a drain?’ Wat asked, clearly thinking that Ignatius must have been very stupid indeed.
‘Yes, but what a mark. And here. And us directed down here by the book.’ Hermitage thought it was obvious. It didn’t look like anyone else did. He stepped forward to examine the stone more closely. The mortar around it still looked firm and even but the texture of the stone itself seemed more worn than its neighbours. ‘So,’ he said, very slowly, as his thoughts ordered themselves. ‘Someone stuck down here might demand an exit with some authority.’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Wat, seeing where he was going but thinking it was completely ridiculous.
Hermitage gave a weak smile and stepped right up to the stone. He placed both hands on the symbol of the Fasces and pushed. The stone slid smoothly backwards into the wall and a rush of fresh air blew across their faces, stimulating their livers no end. They all took grateful breaths, pleased that their blood started to cool down quite quickly.
‘Do we get out this way?’ Cwen asked, looking at the size of the stone which might be enough to squeeze her though but there wasn’t anyone else in the room who’d make it.
Hermitage examined the stones surrounding the symbol. ‘I think the rest of these will move as well.’
Egbert, Wat and Athan stepped up now and pushed the stones below the Fasces which all slid neatly backwards and off to the left. Once they were clear a staircase could be seen behind, leading up out of the room.
‘Perhaps we should go up this?’ Hermitage suggested.
‘I think we should,’ said Cwen with some urgency.
‘Very well,’ said Hermitage.
‘Because for some reason,’ Cwen went on, ‘the sea seems quite keen on coming in now.’
They all turned and saw that the sea from the tunnel was bubbling up and over the edge of the hole and seemed determined to fill the chamber up quite quickly.
‘Up, up,’ Wat commanded, ushering everyone out of the room and up the stairs.
There were only half a dozen steep stone steps until the passage ended at a slab of wooden panelling.
‘It’s shut,’ Cwen called back to those behind her.
‘Shut,’ Athan scoffed. ‘Let me through.’
They all shuffled about a bit until Athan could get at the wood. He examined it briefly, took a slight swing back and threw his shoulder at it. Like most things facing an angry Athan it collapsed completely and splintered out of the way.
The whole group swarmed through the opening and away from the still rising sea. They burst into a simple room but at least a normal one this time. It looked like nothing more than a straightforward monk’s cell, albeit a large on. A barred window ahead of them let in the grey light of the moon and a further door out into the corridor stood open.
The only remarkable thing about the room was the cot in the corner. The cot which had the Abbot on it, blubbering and pointing at the huge crowd that has just climbed out of his wall.