Mortuus Virgo (28 page)

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.

‘
Really
?’ said Brandon in mild surprise, ‘Any particular reason?

‘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.’

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 the opening times displayed in the notice board.

‘Closed!’ said India in disappointment. ‘Open again on Thursday morning for a private christening and next week for Sunday service.’

‘What sort of church closes on a Sunday?’ snapped Brandon in frustration.

‘Well, it is five o’clock,’ said India, shaking the gate in vain, ‘Besides, it’s a sign of the times. We are turning into a nation of atheists.’

She paused momentarily before taking his hand and clambering up the dry stone walling. They dropped down into the cemetery beyond and made their way around the wall to the arched doors of the main entrance. Brandon quickly knelt down and fiddled around with the strange tool before selecting a suitable candidate.

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ mumbled India. She looked around nervously while Brandon fished around in the keyhole with his lock pick. A few seconds later they heard the satisfying clunk of a falling lever and Brandon smiled up at India.

‘Sign of a disaffected childhood,’ he said, and pushed the door slowly inward.

----

Chapter 22

England 2010

The Nuns gathered in the great hall, eating their meal in relative silence. It had been two days since the tragedy and though they knew the Mother Superior had died, they had been told it had been natural causes. Sister Bernice had been sworn to secrecy, the explanation being that there was no need to worry the rest of the order. None of the Nuns were allowed outside of the walls after dark, and Maximillian and his son, Jacob, patrolled the corridors at night. Despite all this, Bernice still felt uneasy. She had never questioned the way of the order before but could not understand why they just didn’t call the police. Agnes had spent a lot of time with her in the last two days, trying to convince her that it was in everybody’s interest to keep the tragedy within the realms of the order, though despite Bernice’s protestations, she would not tell her exactly why. All she would say is that they nurtured a sacred secret and if the outside world came snooping around, then that secret could be lost forever. Bernice was also reassured that steps had been taken to protect the order and that very soon she would be initiated into the senior order, and, when that happened, everything would be revealed to her.

The meal continued in silence. Every thought was with the mother superior, now laying at rest in the order’s crypt beneath their feet. The seals had been replaced on the crypt and the Sisters were partaking of their last meal before a day of fasting. Once again Bernice sat alongside Sister Suzanna.

Bernice stared at her friend, desperate to blurt out the true horror of what she had seen yet keeping her silence due to her loyalty to the order.

‘Oh, Sister,’ she said, ‘One day, when this is all over perhaps I will share my burden with you. In the meantime, I just need to get through the next few days. I may need your support.’

Suzanna took her hand and smiled.

‘I am here for you Bernice,’ she said and they both turned back to their meagre meal.

----

Brandon and India walked around the inner walls of the church looking for any sign of the carving. Ten minutes later they met again near the altar.

‘I could but will take a while,’ he said. ‘Tell me, why is it so important we find this carving? It’s not as if it is the actual Palladium.’

‘No but if it proves the Temple was actually a Vestal Temple then it may prove that Rubria came here all that time ago. If we can prove that, we are one step nearer finding the Palladium.’

‘Come on then,’ sighed Brandon, ‘Let’s get started.’

For the next few hours they searched the small church for any sign of the carving without any luck. Finally they came back to the seats before the altar and sat on one of the pews.

‘No time!’ he said, Come on, there has to be another way out. He led her back towards the rear of the church, following the short corridor towards a single door.’

‘We don’t have time to pick the lock,’ said India.

‘No need,’ said, Brandon with a smirk and pointed at the chrome push bar that looked so out of place on the old oak door. ‘Fire-escape,’ he said simply, ‘Good old heath and safety!’ He operated the mechanism and led her out of the door into the cemetery at the rear of the church.

‘Quickly!’ said Brandon and pulled her along the wall towards the wooded area of the cemetery. Suddenly India tripped and sprawled into the undergrowth of an unkempt grave.

‘Let me help,’ he said.’ He bent down to help her to her feet, but as she looked up at him her gaze focussed on something behind his head.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

‘Look!’ said India, ‘Up there on the wall. All that searching and it was outside all this time.’

Brandon followed her gaze and for a few moments, both people stood gazing up at the relief of a figure, set into the church wall a few feet above their heads.