‘Maybe she could enlighten us as to why we might find a heap of candle remnants and a ton of old bottles piled up at the foot of the door then?’ Ted paused, ‘and there are two inscriptions, amongst a plethora of scribblings on the walls.’
Charley frowned. ‘What do they say?’
‘They are in Latin,’ Ted said, leaning towards her conspiringly. ‘I only know it’s Latin because Fred over there is a total geek; he allus has been, even at school.’
‘You went to school together?’
‘We did.’ On hearing his name one of the volunteers, a red-faced, rotund, jolly-looking character raised a hand, and Ted beckoned him to join them. Fred dabbed the beads of sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief.
‘Tell ’em what the motto said in English, will you,’ said Ted.
The phrase ‘facilis descensus Averno,’ rolled easily off the bearded man’s tongue. ‘Basically, it means the descent to Hell is easy.’
‘I suspect that Tunnel B to the graveyard is a later edition.’ Ted paused for a moment as if in thought. ‘Although why the hell you’d want two tunnels going to nearly the same place only Him upstairs knows.’
Fred lifted a shoulder, and hunching his back, he leaned towards Annie, with one eye tightly shut. He gave her an icy stare with the other, his voice nothing short of that of a chilling demon, ‘With ghostly looking caches, suggestive of ancient castles in the days of the Knighthood, connecting this house to a tomb!’
Annie’s stared at Fred, her eyes large and unbelieving.
‘Ignore him. He’s got a sick sense of humour. The translation of the other inscription, please?’ said Ted, nodding at Fred to do his bit.
Fred pulled a face at Ted. ‘Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras, hoc opus, hic labor est.’
‘What does that translate as?’ asked Charley, matter-of-factly.
‘It’s from Virgil, and it means something like, to get out of Hell, that’s where the hard work lies.’
For the moment it seemed as if the world stood still for the SIO. Why would anyone inscribe such things? And who was supposed to read it?
Ted lifted his boot, and stamped it down. Annie jumped, such was her reverie. ‘The tunnel’s floor is hard-packed clay. The walls are uniform and solid. It’s an absolute credit to the workmanship of those who created it.’
‘Who do you think might have done?’ said Charley.
‘Rumour has it that it was dug by Seth, Jeremiah Alderman’s youngest son. I heard that his mental instability was caused by schizophrenia,’ said Fred.
‘A type of psychosis,’ said Mike. ‘Which might explain his dependency on drink and drugs if he was feeling upset or anxious, or even angry and suspicious of those around him; all traits of schizophrenia, I believe.’
Charley’s eyes were thoughtful as she absorbed what Mike had said. ‘Schizophrenia tends to run in families too, doesn’t it? Which might explain the murderous actions of his father and brother, Felix, before him.’
Fred was sombre. ‘I was disappointed we couldn’t leave the second tunnel B by its intended exit. It would have been satisfying to see where that led.’
‘What was stopping you?’ asked Mike.
‘We think that the soil, beyond a wooden door that appeared to be an entrance to where we do not know, has collapsed, probably due to the lack of beams placed at specific points like in the church tunnel A, which was obviously designed and built to stand the pressure,’ said Ted.
‘There were no other bodies or bones in the tunnels then?’ asked Annie, disappointment written all over her face.
‘Not that we could see,’ Ted’s smile was wide. ‘As far as underground ventures go, this one proved to be quite uneventful for us. The ground beneath our feet was relatively even, it was dry, just dark, and not half as intimidating with the right equipment and me mates alongside me. Like I said afore, a credit to them that built it.’
‘Now we may never know where the second tunnel leads,’ mused Mike.
Ted’s eyes lit up. ‘Now, I didn’t say that, did I? What I haven’t told you is that we managed to push a metal rod up through the tunnel roof to the ground above, which, we suspect, if my calculations are right, should appear, like I said before somewhere in the graveyard, we just don’t know where exactly.’
Charley’s stomach did several back-flips. ‘What are we waiting for?’ she said, beckoning them forward with a wave of her hand. ‘The more sets of eyes looking for the rod, the better! We need confirmation about that tunnel’s final destination.’
The investigative team which crossed the main road in haste didn’t go unnoticed by those gathered outside, whose sole interest was in what the coppers were doing at Crownest. Annie followed Charley in single file, where the overgrown pathway that led to the graveyard from the main road narrowed. Ted and Fred’s booted feet could be heard, as they walked with a purpose, crunching the frozen leaves fifty yards behind.
When Charley turned she could see a couple of hangers-on from the press in their wake, but the landscape and proximity of the church graveyard meant that they were unable to conceal themselves.
Charley and Annie stood at the gate to the graveyard waiting for the others to catch up, and for Annie to catch her breath. Charley offered Annie a mint from her coat pocket. Annie spoke up as she took one, ‘I wonder if it’s true, that people were employed to hang about in graveyards, waiting for “the dead” to ring their bell should they wake?’
Charley nearly choked on her sweet. ‘How does your mind work, Annie Glover?’ she scoffed.
Annie’s cheeks were red from exertion, and the cold. ‘It’s true, I read that in the olden days they thought the dead might be just “sleeping”, so they put a bell above the ground, near the coffin, attached to a piece of string so that if the person
