April 1324 A.D. – Furness – At the Castle

The grey stone building squatted on top of the craggy hill. It wasn’t the most impressive castle in England. It was far too small and simple for that. And the contrast with the magnificent construction of the Abbey was striking. But Abbot John Comsbrook had pronounced himself satisfied with the outcome.

He stood with the builder in front of the small entrance door on the side. John had hired this mason from Preston, many miles to the south, on strong recommendations. And the experience told in the speed with which the keep had been constructed. The craftsman walked up to the step and entered the south side of the new castle keep, followed by the monk.

The structure itself was two storeys high. A spiral staircase rose from the corner of the ground floor room. There was a small narrow window half way up which allowed for the taking up of a good defensive position. Comsbrook knew that the roof of the keep was flat to allow defenders a secure vantage point from any attacking force. He was pleased with the overall construction and its position close to where the old vicar’s house had been situated. It would certainly give the town a better chance if the traitorous barbarians from the north should pay another visit.

Protecting the town was not the only purpose the Abbot had in mind for the castle. He had other plans. The mason had added a secret feature during the construction. Working during this period with only two other trusted companions.

The far wall contained a false section that had been constructed of softer sandstone. It had been blended skilfully into the rest of the surface. It was only a small area close to floor level. It was the opinion of the builder and the Abbot that the only chance of detection was if someone was to tap all round the foot of the wall with a pick or staff. And even then, they would need to be looking for something faintly unusual in the sound.

Behind the false section lay a small gap, sufficient only for a head to reach through. But beneath a hollowed out cellar had been constructed. And inside, piled on top of each other were the Templars’ chests from the chamber beneath the Abbey’s church.

Abbot John returned to the Abbey chamber that afternoon. The room was transformed from when the chests had been originally hidden. It had a dank musty smell and a melancholy, forlorn appearance. The skilfully crafted doors to the lockers were all hanging off. Little care had been taken of them when removing their contents. John noticed a piece of jagged metal lying on the dirt floor.

Picking it up he had a sudden thought, that the chamber that had guarded the wealth for so long deserved an epitaph. He moved across to the last locker in the row and scratched into the wood with the end of the spike. He didn’t have much time so he just etched the town to where the hoard had been moved. He added the date as a final thought.