CHAPTER TEN

The tiny scrap of parchment did indeed give the name of a monastery and a rough map of the area. It lay sixty miles north east of their present position. No problem in itself, Jack told her, except that it led them directly up into the Alps.

‘The going may get a little rough,’ he said as he returned from the back of the house with several bundles under his arm and the bag of groceries he’d bought at the store.

‘What are we going to need all that stuff for?’

‘Better to be prepared. There are no filling stations or restaurants where we are going.’

Angela hoped he wouldn’t expect her to cross rough terrain. True, her legs were improving every day but she continued to have bad days when weather or a certain form of exercise set her back. She rubbed her hands over the stick she still carried as a precaution.

They had driven down the track to the farm and were heading back down the road to the next valley. In the village they took a left fork and after following it for several miles turned into a narrow, single-file road that wound up into the mountains.

It took three hours to cover the tortuous road upward. Then they were travelling through deep frost just below the snow line. They had passed two restaurants on the way up which belied Jack’s warning and Angela was feeling more confident.

The trees ahead of them parted and a view of huge white mountains disappearing into the clouds rose on all sides of them. The road had long since deteriorated into a track of stones. Jack drove on and the little car bounced forward.

Another half-an-hour passed and a flat, stony area opened out on the right. Poised above it, virtually hanging on the cliff face, was a castle-like edifice, without the turrets. Three rows of tiny windows looked down on them.

‘Is that it?’ Angela wanted to know. ‘How do we get in?’

She was stretching her neck as she looked up from the car window.

‘We should decide first what we are going to say.’

Jack sat back in his seat, his hands lying idly over the steering-wheel.

‘We tell them that we need the jewellery to save our lives,’ she replied matter-of-factly.

‘First we must establish that they have it. Then we show them the locket and map and explain your family connection. The rest you leave to me in my official capacity. Is that agreed?’

Angela was nodding her head.

‘Yes, of course,’ she said still studying the building.

They followed a rough path around the cliff to where the ground levelled off at the front of the monastery. The only opening in this wall was a large, solid oak gate with a small grating in its centre. To one side of this gate hung a long shaft of metal with a handle on the end of it.

Jack walked forward and, gripping the metal handle, pulled downward. Inside the walls a bell tolled. Jack turned and smiled encouragement at her as she came forward. He set her to one side then turned back to face the grating. Behind it the little door opened with protest telling them that visitors were few and far between.

Jack spoke to the monkey-like face of the tiny monk, in his own rapid tongue. In a squeaky voice the monk asked a series of questions. Jack’s replies were obviously satisfactory and the huge gate was drawn back giving entry into a cobbled courtyard.

When the monk saw Angela he hesitated and attempted to block her path but Jack managed to calm his panic and after a few minutes they were on their way to see the abbot. It was growing dark as they followed the monk through the deeply-shadowed cloisters. They climbed many stone stairs until Angela was convinced that she could go no farther. At last they came to a heavy door and were shown into the office of the abbot.

The room was sparsely furnished but what was there would have been the pride and joy of the most wealthy collector. There was a large desk, two straight-backed chairs, two beautiful tapestries on the walls. A heavily-carved chest with bold brass fittings stood beneath a picture of a stern-faced man of the sixteenth century, his cap and cape in burgundy, with a parchment in his hand and two dogs at his feet.

The abbot looked up from his reading and nodded to the monk who left immediately. The hands on the book were old and twisted with arthritis. His face was drawn and wrinkled but the eyes that looked out at them were the eyes of a much younger man.

‘How can I help you?’

His voice was soft and melodious.

For all Angela’s improving Italian she could not understand the ensuing conversation, other than to pick out odd words. Although the abbot’s expression did not change as Jack talked, his eyes did. The humour that had danced behind his piercing blue gaze was soon veiled with a shadow of wariness.

‘You are the step-daughter of Hugo Pagelli?’

Angela was caught by surprise.

‘Si, Father.’

‘You are the owner of the locket in question?’

‘Si, Father.’

‘May I see it?’

Her hands flew to her neck before she realised Jack still had the locket in his possession. He brought it out of his pocket and handed it to the holy man. The abbot inspected the scroll on the front of the locket then handed it back.

‘What did he say?’

Angela was keen to know once they had been dismissed and they were following a tall, thin monk along a series of narrow passages. Jack put his forefinger to his lips and Angela drew in her breath with frustration. They entered a refectory where fifteen to twenty monks sat at a long table. They were led to the end of this table and sat down.

Several minutes passed in silence then the abbot appeared and began prayers. This over, they were served bread and soup, then a large platter of some sort of meat was placed on the table and the monks placed slices between hunks of bread and ate with enthusiasm.

More prayers followed then they were shown to two small cells on the ground floor and left to themselves. Letting out a long sigh, Angela stared around the small room. A cot minus spring mattress, a wooden chair and chest, a small kneeling stool with an icon above it and a woven mat on the floor alongside the bed was all it contained. She plonked down on the bed.

‘Well, can you tell me now what the abbot said to you?’

Jack was standing in the doorway to her room.

‘I’ve had to give them the car keys and they’ll bring our bags to us. They wouldn’t let me go out and get them myself.’

He ran a hand over his hair.

‘What did the abbot say? Is he going to give us the jewellery?’ Angela persisted and she noticed a nervous twitch flicking along Jack’s jaw.

‘I don’t know. He said he would need to think about it and that we were welcome to wait here for his decision.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Angela groaned, casting a weary eye over the accommodation. ‘I’m cold and hungry and not really tired enough for bed, especially that one.’

Just at that moment there was a scuffle and dragging sound in the passage outside. Then a cheery voice called out.

‘Hello, don’t look so grim. I’ve brought you your sleeping bags as well as your other things.’

A cheerful little man with red cheeks and a bald head with a fringe of fair hair was peering around the doorpost. He was laden with their belongings and Jack reached forward to help him into the room.

‘We’re used to the cold up here but I thought perhaps you might need a little comfort.’

His grin spread from ear to ear and his dark brown eyes were full of warmth. Angela could have kissed him.

They shook his hand and introduced themselves. He chatted for a short while then made his excuses and left.

Jack sorted through the bundles, tossing a sleeping bag on to her bed then opening up a haversack containing fruit, chocolate and half a chicken from the day before. A packet of biscuits and a flask of coffee completed the feast. Angela felt as though she could eat the lot.

‘Not all at once,’ Jack warned. ‘We don’t know how long we may be here.’

The hand holding the apple dropped to her lap.

‘What do you mean? How long does he intend thinking about our request?’

Jack poured the coffee into the two cups from the top of the flask.

‘They have been guarding this inheritance for over one hundred years. It was given to them by the then head of the house of Benedetti, Hugo’s great uncle. They take their guardianship very seriously.’

‘They must have known that someone would come for it one day.’

‘I’m sure they do but we aren’t exactly what they were led to expect, are we? Neither of us has any real connection to the family at all.’

‘I suppose not,’ Angela agreed.

They talked and ate quietly for a while, discovering similar likes and dislikes. They talked in a general way avoiding personalities then Jack repacked his bags and carried them to his room next door.

He came back to make sure she had everything she wanted and was settled for the night. She straightened the sleeping bag on the bed.

‘I don’t suppose you have seen anything resembling a bathroom around here,’ she asked.

‘I’ve just returned from making use of it. If you follow me I’ll show you where it is.’

She collected her soap bag and a towel he had given her earlier and followed him down the passage. The last door on the left had a symbol she didn’t recognise marked on it and she leaned against the stone wall to one side.

‘Thank you, and thanks for all your help so far. I know I haven’t been very appreciative, ungrateful I suppose.’

She hung her head and stared at the pattern on his brown brogues. A finger slid under her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze.

‘You’re one gutsy lady, signorina.’

Warm lips brushed her brow then he was walking away down the passage. Angela watched him go with a frown. She had been convinced he was going to kiss her properly, yet she knew if he had she would have withdrawn. He belonged to Claudia.

She turned into the bathroom and came to a sudden halt. Her eyes widened as she gaped at the large hole in the floor covered only by a grating with two metal handles, one on either side! A long, stone trough took up a whole wall, with a plug hole at one end and a pump at the other. She blinked rapidly and tried to believe she was imagining it all, but it was real and she had better make the most of it.