Stones of Fire

Sandwiched between two pairs of armed men, she and C?dmon moved off in a north-easterly direction. In front of them about two hundred yards in the distance was a dense grove of trees. As they trudged across the field, Edie wondered if Philippa of Canterbury had had any notion of the deadly train of events she would someday trigger with her quatrains.

More than likely she had guessed. Why else would the noblewoman-cum-nun have gone to such lengths to hide her dead husband’s gold arca? Philippa had survived the horror of the plague and no doubt blamed the Ark for the deadly pestilence that had swept across England.

Last night C?dmon told her that Philippa had belonged to the Gilbertines, an order of nuns founded in England. In the span of only six years, Philippa had risen through the ranks, eventually becoming the priory cellaress, a position in which she oversaw all of the food production. A capable woman with a flair for management, she could have easily arranged for the Ark of the Covenant to have been brought to Swanley. Maybe she let her fellow nuns in on the secret. Since they lived a life devoted to worship and contemplative prayer, there was little fear that the secret would be revealed to nosy outsiders.

The GPS receiver held in his right hand, Harliss led them through the grove of trees, the gnarled leafless limbs like so many arthritic hands.

Just beyond the bare boughs, Edie glimpsed a stone wall.

‘I see it!’ she exclaimed, raising her right hand and pointing, inexplicably excited. ‘It’s over there.’

‘Roger that,’ Harliss responded, leading them towards to the right.

A few moments later they entered a clearing.

Edie glanced from side to side.

‘Oh God… It’s been destroyed.’

65

Stunned, the six of them stood rooted in place.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Braxton muttered, expressing what everyone in the group was no doubt thinking, all that remained of the Priory of the Blessed Virgin Mary being three stone walls punctuated with arched windows, tangled strands of dead ivy cascading from the glassless openings.

‘It looks like it was hit by mortar fire.’ This from MacFarlane, his leathery cheeks flushed with what Edie assumed to be barely contained rage.

‘My guess is that the priory was destroyed during the Reformation,’ C?dmon stated quietly. ‘In 1538, Parliament, at the behest of Henry VIII, issued an edict known as the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The law enabled Henry to confiscate all property owned by the monastic orders. Aided by many in the general population, who hoped that Church riches would stick to their greedy hands, many monastic buildings were demolished and the stone reused for secular building projects.’

Edie stared at the eerie remains: the gouged Gothic shell open to the heavens, the sheaves of ice-laden grass shimmering jewel-like. Perhaps it was the early-morning mist, but she could have sworn that a ghostly hint of incense and candles and chanted prayers still lingered.

She turned and glanced at C?dmon, asking the silent question: What if the next clue was contained in a piece of stained glass that had been smashed to smithereens centuries ago? With an almost imperceptible shake of the head, he warned her against voicing her query. He then pointedly glanced at Stanford MacFarlane. Edie got the message loud and clear. If MacFarlane thought the game was up, she and C?dmon would be killed on the spot. No matter what, they had to maintain the pretext that it was still game on.

Startled by a screech, Edie turned.

Perched on the branch of a leafless tree was a raven.

Although not a superstitious person by nature, she considered the raven a very bad omen.

66

‘Not to worry,’ C?dmon announced, affecting a tone of bluff good cheer. ‘The fact that the priory has been destroyed will not impede our progress in the least. In fact, it should make the task far easier.’

‘Do you think I suddenly went loco? There’s nothing here,’ MacFarlane argued, gesturing to the empty space within the three stone walls.

‘Ah! “They have eyes, but they do not see.”’

‘And what does King David have to do with anything?’

Knowing that he needed to produce a rabbit from his hat, C?dmon replied, ‘The king’s observation is most appropriate. For while the untrained eye sees nothing but overgrown grass and three stone walls, the trained eye sees the nunnery as it once stood.’

Several seconds passed in silence.

‘Go ahead. I’m listening,’ MacFarlane said, rather grudgingly.

Relieved that he passed the initial audition, C?dmon cast Edie a quick, reassuring glance.

Don’t worry, love. I can do this. I can buy us the time we need.

He gestured to the meadow adjacent to the walls. ‘If you care to join me, I would like to take what the archaeologists call a field walk. Since we don’t have the benefit of an aerial photograph, by slowly walking the site we should be able to detect slight fluctuations and anomalies in the ground surface. These fluctuations and anomalies will enable us to reconstruct the plan of the original nunnery. Once we’ve done that, we’ll be in a much better position to know where to begin the search.’

Although MacFarlane nodded his assent, a silent addendum was included — You better come up with something fast.

C?dmon commenced the tour. ‘First, a quick primer in monastic layout. The majority of medieval priories followed a standard prototype of three buildings, usually two storeys in height, arranged in a U shape. This U- shaped configuration would have abutted a church.’ He gestured to the three stone walls. ‘As you can see, the demolished church is all that remains of the Priory of the Blessed Virgin Mary.’

‘So, if I’m imaging this correctly, the church and the U-shaped buildings would have enclosed some sort of courtyard,’ Edie remarked.

‘Quite correct. The garth, or cloister as it is more commonly called, was the large open space within the enclosed buildings. The cloister was primarily used for gardening and the interment of the dead.’

A definite spark of interest in his eyes, MacFarlane clearly recognized the possibilities that the cloister presented. ‘I’m guessing that no one would have thought twice about a deep hole being dug in the courtyard.’

‘Precisely. Furthermore, only nuns and novices were permitted inside the cloister, thus making it the perfect place for Philippa to bury the Ark of the Covenant.’ Arms spread wide, C?dmon gestured to the open meadow that moments ago MacFarlane had been so quick to dismiss. ‘Here, Philippa could have secreted the Ark from the outside world and at the same time kept an eye on it. Shall we begin our stroll around the cloister?’

Taking the lead, he walked to the other side of the small meadow, MacFarlane on his heels, Edie and the rest in tow.

‘This, I believe, is where the refectory would have been situated,’ he said, gesturing to an area of overgrown weeds and tangled grass. ‘The refectory was, as you undoubtedly know, the hall where all meals were taken.’

‘Aka the penguins’ mess tent,’ one of MacFarlane’s henchmen snickered.

Ignoring this contribution, C?dmon marched forward approximately fifteen yards. ‘And this would have been the lavatorium.’

‘The wash area, right?’

He nodded at Edie. ‘That’s correct.’ He then walked another fifteen yards. ‘Here would have stood the kitchen area.’