Agnes’s hand flew to her mouth and nose to block the stench of burning flesh. A movement near the cross caught her eye and she saw a man stood a few yards away from the fire, half hidden in the darkness, swathed in a hooded cloak staring up at her. Sister Agnes fell back against the wall in shock.
‘Holy Mother protect us,’ she intoned.
‘What is it?’ asked Sister Adele.
Agnes looked up and done some rapid thinking.
‘Call the Seniors to the great hall,’ she said, ‘We have to meet them straight away.
‘What about me?’ asked Bernice, ‘What should I do?’
Sister Agnes retrieved a set of keys from beneath her habit and gave them to Bernice.
‘Check the outer doors are all double locked,’ she said, ‘Then lock all the Sisters in their cells.’ Seeing the look of concern on Bernice’s face she quickly explained.
‘It’s for their own good,’ she said. ‘There is a madman out there and though the doors are solid, there is no knowing what lengths he will undertake to get in. Lock them in and then wait in your cell until we call you.’
All three descended the stairs and separated at the great hall. The two Seniors entered the giant doors while Bernice hurried along the corridor to do as she was told. Within the hour she had carried out her instructions but before returning to her cell, realised that she had possession of the keys and, as the doors were now all locked, she should return them to Sister Agnes. She made her way back to the great hall and knocked on the heavy doors. When there was no reply, she knocked again only harder. Again there was no answer so she tried the handle but found it locked.
Bernice looked down at the keys in her hand and in particular the ornate hall key. With only slight hesitation, she placed the key in the door. At first there was some resistance but with another shove the key rammed home into the lock. She heard a metallic thud on the other side, but pushed the door open anyway and entered the great hall. Bernice looked around. The hall was well lit from the dozens of candles that were burning ready for the now abandoned morning prayers, and it took her only a moment to see the hall was empty. She realised the Senior Sisters must have gone elsewhere and turned to leave the hall but as she did, her feet hit something on the floor. Looking down, she saw another small bunch of keys and realised that she had pushed these out of the lock with her own set when she had unlocked the door.
She bent over to pick them up, stopping suddenly, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. If these keys were in the lock, that meant that the doors must have been locked from the inside, yet…
Sister Bernice looked around the hall again. It was definitely empty and there was no other door that she knew of. She did a quick circuit around the room, checking once more, passing the image of the Holy Mother on the way but as she already knew, there was no sign of anyone. In confusion, she hurriedly left the hall and locked it from the outside, leaving the second bunch of keys on the floor inside. Finally she returned to her cell, and locking her door behind her, sat on the edge of her bed, confused and scared.
Chapter 21
England 2010
Brandon and India sat at the back of the church, waiting for the service to end. It was a typical village church and the congregation was quite healthy bearing in mind the apathy to religion that seemed to be the norm across the country. Finally the service came to an end and the people filed out, dropping their donations onto a copper plate as they left. Eventually there were just the two of them and the vicar left.
‘Hello,’ said the vicar, ‘I don’t think I have seen you here before. Are you new to the village?’
‘No, not really,’ said India, ‘What I mean is, we don’t actually live here, we were looking to speak to you, if you have the time.’
‘What about?’ asked the vicar.
‘I am India, and this is Brandon,’ she said. ‘We are writing a book about the village history of middle England and were told you may be able to help in our research.’
‘In what way?’
‘We are interested in the Temple at Weycock hill. I believe it was built in the first century and some of the stones were used in the building of this church. Is that correct?’
‘Indeed it is,’ said the vicar, ‘Some of the masonry can be seen in the lower courses of the church walls.’
‘How old is the church?’ asked Brandon.
‘Built in 1672,’ said the vicar, ‘Though there was a place of worship here hundreds of years before that in many different guises.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Brandon.
‘Oh the village stretches back thousands of years,’ said the vicar, ‘The remains of a stone age fort have been found nearby, ‘As well as the Roman ruins. It has been dominated by Romans, raided by Vikings and supplied no end of archers during the Norman conquest.’
‘Is there anything you can tell me about the Temple?’ asked India.
‘Not much to tell, really. Experts reckon it was built in the first century AD. That’s a bit special in itself really, as there are no others from that era. Many were built in the few hundred years after that but it was thought the area was still too volatile at the time for a standalone Temple outside of any defended town, yet it seems it was still there a few hundred years later, until of course the Romans left.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Brandon.
‘There was a stone coffin found in one of the excavations with the inscription 474 AD inscribed on the lid. It was obviously the burial of someone important as it was within the boundary of the Temple, but in order to be buried there, it must have been still standing at that time.’
‘But how did it last so long?’ asked India.
‘Who knows?’ said the vicar, ‘But the Romans weren’t always tyrants to the locals you know. And by then, the population had probably become Romanised anyway. Probably even worshiped at the Temple themselves.’
‘Who would have been the Gods at that time?’ asked Brandon.
‘Some people say the whole Pantheon would have been worshiped there?’ said the vicar, ‘But the locals insist it is a Vestal Temple. An early one I agree, but a Vestal Temple nonetheless.’
‘Why are they so insistent?’ asked India.
‘I don’t know, really,’ said the vicar, ‘But it has always been so. There are even mentions of the Temple in the parish records going back hundreds of years. And of course, the legend of the white lady goes back long before that.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Brandon.
‘Oh I believe it is a Vestal Temple,’ said the vicar.
‘
‘Not really, but it is so embedded in the local Psyche then it just seems right. Of course, there’s also the carving.’
Both heads span towards him
‘What carving?’ asked Brandon, a little too quickly.
‘Many buildings were built from the stone of the Temple said the vicar and over the centuries anything of archaeological value has been lost but there is one carving that survived showing a Priestess.’
‘Can we see it?’ asked India.
‘Oh it’s not here,’ said the vicar.
‘I suppose it’s in a museum,’ said Brandon.
‘I doubt it,’ said the vicar, ‘It is built into the walls of the church of St Giles in Tockenham.’
‘Where’s that?’ asked Brandon, hardly daring to breathe.
‘Fifty miles or so away,’ said the vicar.
Despite their excitement both India and Brandon managed to keep the pretence going a bit longer before making their excuses and leaving. A couple of hours later they were stood outside the gates of St Giles, reading
