‘All I know, Miss,’ he said, ‘Is that this convent holds a secret bigger than all of us. What it is, I don’t know, and I don’t particularly want to know, But any madman, murderer, call them what you like, who thinks they can make the order of the Santa Rosa give up their secrets by threats of violence or even death, have a lot to learn.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Bernice.
‘Look, Sister,’ answered Max, ‘There are forces at work here that are greater than you or I can even begin to understand. This man, whoever he is, won’t be the first to threaten the order and probably won’t be the last, but he, like all the others, will get nowhere. Trust me, the order is more than capable of looking after itself.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Bernice, ‘How can a group of elderly women and novices unversed in the ways of the world overcome such a horrific threat?’
‘How long have you been here, Sister?’ asked Max.
‘Twenty two years.’
‘And what have they taught you in all that time?’
‘As in what way?’ she asked.
‘The history of the order,’ said Max.
‘Well, most of the time we spend in the worship of the Holy Mother….,’ said Bernice.
‘Yes, interrupted Max, ‘But what about the history of the order itself?’
‘Not much really, the role of the novice is to rejoice in the glory of the Holy Mother, and bring succour to the homeless and the needy. The history of the order is for the Senior Sisters only. I do know our history stretches back hundreds of years, right back to the time of the Normans.’
‘The Normans,’ said Max, sipping his tea thoughtfully.
‘Yes,’ said Bernice,’ The order was one of the first formed in the UK.’
‘What if I told you that this order reaches back almost a thousand years earlier.’
Bernice looked confused.
‘Your wrong,’ Max she said, ‘That would put our foundation as far back as the birth of our saviour himself. Even if we were the very first order in the UK, it couldn’t have been that early. At the very earliest it must have been after the visit of St Augustine.’
‘St Augustine?’
‘Yes, the revered catholic missionary who brought the light of the church to Britain in 597 AD. See, even if you are right, we cannot possibly be older than that as there were simply no representatives of the catholic church before that time.’
Max sipped his tea again, looking over the rim of his teacup in silence.
‘You don’t agree?’ said Bernice eventually.
Max placed the cup down and stood up.
‘Look, Sister,’ he said, ‘It’s not my place to give you history lessons here, but there is much you don’t know about your own order. Suffice to say, it is older than you can even imagine. Forget even the birth of Christ, for your order was old before he was born.’
‘Predates Christianity?’ she said cynically, ‘Now you’re being absurd. How on earth can any organisation predate that, which it is formed to revere?’ It doesn’t make sense.’
‘You make the assumption that your order exists for the worship of Christianity,’ he said.
‘Max,’ said Bernice, ‘I don’t want to be rude, but how on earth can you stand there and tell me that I have devoted most of my adult life to a lie.’
‘You misunderstand me, Sister,’ he replied, ‘I do not criticise your commitment or indeed your devotion. You worship that which is placed before you, yet it is but a veil that blurs the truth.’
‘You’re making no sense,’ said Bernice.
‘I have said enough,’ he said and turned to leave.
‘So why, Max,’ asked Bernice, ‘Why tell me this, now.’
The caretaker turned back around and stared back at her.’
‘Because I like you, Sister Bernice,’ said Max, ‘You have always been kind to me and see me as an equal, not a servant. The order is very strong with important friends across the world. They can look after themselves. But I feel times are changing, and not for the better. This new age of computers and the like is beyond me. I don’t claim to understand such things but what I do know is this. It is only a matter of time before the order’s secret is unveiled, and when that happens, I fear our secure little world will come crashing down around us. You don’t deserve to be caught in the fall out. Now, I have to go, but before I go, let me give you a piece of advice. You are a lovely person, Sister, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Do yourself a favour and keep your distance from the senior sisters.’
‘But Max…’
‘I have said enough,’ said Max, glancing down at the last sandwich, ‘Do you mind if I take this for Jacob?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Bernice.
‘Thank you, Sister,’ said Max, ‘Stay safe!’
Bernice watched him leave and sat for a while mulling over the strange conversation. Max seemed genuinely concerned for her safety, but rather than frighten her off his comments only aroused her curiosity. Her thoughts were racing and there were far too many unanswered questions to let the matter drop, and, by the time she left the kitchen to return to her cell, she had formed a rudimentary plan.
Brandon and Murray walked up to the closed gate blocking the road. They had driven around for hours looking for the convent but eventually had come across a farmer who had pointed them in the right direction. Finally they had found the right road and had travelled over half an hour along a winding country road before coming across the obstruction.
Beyond the gate, the road was un-surfaced and disappeared into a wood that spread as far as the eye could see. A brand new chain and padlock secured the gate to the post, its message absolutely clear. Keep out!
The two men climbed over the gate and walked towards the tree line, but hadn’t got within a hundred metres when a man emerged from the trees and walked towards them. Brandon and Murray slowed but continued walking.
The man was dressed in lightweight green trousers and a waxed Barbour jacket, with a pair of green Wellington boots on his feet and a deerstalker hat on his head in an obvious attempt to meet the cliched uniform of a gamekeeper, however, it was the shotgun cradled in the man’s arm that focussed their attention.
‘Can I help you?’ asked the man.
‘Yes, I’m looking for a convent,’ said Brandon, ‘I was told it was somewhere up here.’
‘Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said the man, ‘This is private property and I have to ask you to leave.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Brandon, ‘I didn’t realise. It’s just that I am doing some research for a book and was wondering what is actually up there.’
‘Nothing that concerns you,’ said the man, ‘Now if you don’t mind.’ He pointed back down the track, making the instruction to leave crystal clear.
‘What’s your problem?’ asked Murray to the gamekeeper, ‘We won’t cause any damage, can’t you allow us half an hour? You’re boss wouldn’t need to know.’
The man took a few paces towards him.
‘Sir,’ he said, ‘You have climbed over a locked gate and are on private property. I have already explained that we cannot help you. Now, I will ask you one more time to leave. Otherwise, I will have you removed by force.’
‘Oh yeah,’ snapped Murray, ‘I don’t see any signs saying private property, so I can walk wherever I damn well want to.’
‘Really, well this says otherwise,’ said the man un-cradling the shotgun.
‘Oh for fuck sake,’ said Murray, ‘Like you’re going to shoot us just for trespassing.’
Brandon grabbed his arm, holding the taxi driver back. As the gamekeeper had un-cradled his shotgun, his jacket had swung open slightly and he had seen the strap of a shoulder holster.
‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ he said, ‘You heard the man, it’s private property. Come on, let’s go.’
