The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

you tonight, Dead-yet, my friend. Mind you leave some pennies forfood this week.’

‘Yousound like my old girl, rest her soul. Sing another song, boy. I shall drink asI please. In-comer Trevan pays my tally tonight.’

‘Oh,does he now?’ That was both a relief and puzzle, for the Landlord had nevernoticed his guest be either sociable or generous before. However, he didn'tcare to look up, for fear he and Trevan should lock glances in challenge.‘Well, that's nice. Though I notice he's too tired to come fetch it for you.’

‘Iain't dead yet! Don't you worry about me. I can still walk.’

Indeedhe could - at a shuffling pace, hindered by creaking joints and the weight of years.His tankard required both shaky claws to ferry it safe back to the bar parlour.

Samuelwas waiting for him: impatiently.

‘Whathave you been doing? Brewing it?’

‘Iain't so fleet on me pins as former. I gets where I want soon enough. I ain'tdead yet.’

‘Soyou keep saying. Sit down and carry on.’

Itwas a labour for the ancient to set his drink down and lever himself back intothe high-backed chair. He wasn't used to this corner, though he'd beencoming to the Forge all his life.Samuel's character had altered such that it never occurred to him to help.

‘Carryon what, mister?’

Trevanclosed his eyes on the scene for a second.

‘Saveus but this is hard work!’

‘Andso he shall save us, the Lord Jesus,’ the old man chose to misconstrue. ‘Thatis our sure and certain hope. The priest told I at school and I keep that by my'eart. But I don't see where hard work comes into-....’

‘Themines, Mr Dead-yet: you were telling me about the mines.’

‘That'smy nickname, child: you can't put mister in front of her. And those mines, I'vetold you all I know.’

‘Whichisn't a lot, it transpires.’

‘Ifyou find anyone 'oo knows more, you go buy them ale. But you won't find a soul.I've outlived all. All them who were boys with I are gorn. Long gorn.’

Somethingabout that achievement, a sense of triumph or perspective perhaps, made the oldman laugh into his beer. The head of froth bubbled accordingly.

‘Fairenough.’ Samuel liked to hear things put starkly. ‘So you're sure about thegold bit then?’

Thetankard was slowly, carefully, lowered to the table.

‘Somy father told me; and he span no yarns. But it were from before his time. Goldmine or gold store, there were stories saying both: I don't judge 'tween 'em.All I recall is about the gold, and that a flood came - of foul waters: eachsaid that - and drown-ded all.’

Samuelbarely tolerated the pause as the old man took more refreshment, but it wasworth the wait. 'Dead-yet' stopped drinking as a fresh notion occurred to him.

‘Isuppose,’ he said slowly, ‘it must still be down there with 'em. I marvel thestory don't get round more; that people don't go looking for it....’

Samuel'sface was a mask of innocence.

‘Yes,odd, isn't it,’ he agreed. ‘Have another drink.’

************

Fromthat night on, from some unknown source, old 'Dead-yet' seemed to have comeinto money. Suddenly, the adequate, though hardly ample, basic Church pensionwas no longer a ball and chain on his way of life.

Beinga man of limited ambitions, he simply chose to indulge his thirst to the full,without hindrance, without counting the cost; to the exclusion of all else. Noone was over-shocked: he'd always been inclined that way, when funds permitted.

Soonhis ruddy face turned purple; he moved and said less and less. What he did saywas slurred and made no sense. His decline was rapid. Within a surprisinglyshort while, some years ahead of time, old 'Dead-Yet' was.

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

cHAPTER 20

‘ToWhom It May Concern.

 

The bearer, Mr Samuel Melchizedek Trevan, is an 'excluded person', undermy supervision. Whilst, obviously, I can therefore offer no assurances as tohis piety or character, I am desirous that he should find a wholesome outletfor his undoubted energies. He has expressed an interest in the history of hisbirthplace, which I state to be the village of Welcombe in Devonshire.

So long as his researches are restricted to such innocuous matters, Iwould be grateful if every assistance could be extended to him - and thereby tome.

 

Yourservant in Christ

+ Richard,Abbott of St Nectan's Abbey, Hartland, Devon, England.

‘It'sa letter of recommendation,’ said Samuel, smiling down upon thelibrarian-brother, ‘sort of.’ He accepted the parchment scroll back. Itscontents were well known to him: he was past taking offence.

‘Asyou say,’ the monk replied, neither face nor tone passing judgement. ‘Are youfamiliar with books?’

Thatdid manage to slide painfully under Samuel's skin. Was it malicious? Hecouldn't tell. Monks were notoriously light on social niceties; Samuel had comeacross that before. Supposedly, their best attentions were focused elsewhere.Sense should have favoured giving the benefit of the doubt.

‘Whatdo you mean by that?’ The growl was part and parcel of his reply.

‘Exactlywhat I said, Mr Trevan. Are you an practised scholar and researcher?’

‘DoI look like one?’

‘No.’

‘Wellthen.’

Themonk took up Samuel's hard gaze, held it - and shoved it back at him. Trevanwas impressed and warmed to the man. Apparently he hadn't sheltered allhis life amongst bookshelves.

‘Wellthen,’ the brother returned the words also, ‘in that case, I shall be happyto guide you.’

Andso he did, beckoning the visitor out of the administrative antechamber, throughguarded double-doors and into the presence of more books than an abashed SamuelTrevan had ever seen before.

************

Thefamous painted dome helped enforce quiet, for it emphasised and repeated everysound, every footstep. People stepped gently and spoke in reverential whispers.Thus the atmosphere in Exeter Cathedral Library was every bit as church-like,and maybe even more serious minded, than the ancient house of God to which itwas joined. The characters depicted in Lely's renowned 'Day of Judgement'looked down upon the scholars and gave them additional food for thought.Several times Samuel caught himself gawping round like some Scot in theVatican. He forced himself to be more blasé, but it was difficult. Happily,there was distraction in being schooled.

‘...and each volume is indexed sequentially within the year of receipt - notpublication - which can lead to some confusion for neophytes or in the case ofofferings from remoter parts. I suggest consultation of the index for twoadjacent years to the suspected publication date, but if perplexity persiststhen