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

looks: bones and clothes and mouldystuff they couldn't finish. And there was a burrow up from one corner: animalwork, with a live smell coming down it. Sort of sweaty pork. We... didn'treally have time to investigate that....’

‘Good,’said Samuel, covering their discomfort. ‘I think we've already met it. You didthe right thing.’

‘Mentionthe wall,’ interjected a soldier - who wasn't going to have some boy soundinglike his officer.

‘Ohyeah,’ said Cook, ‘that too. Someone's decorated a whole big wall there: like amural.’

‘Of?’

‘Um...one of those things there was a statue of in the corridor....’

‘Giant,crowned, triumphant: striding over a landscape.’ The soldier had butted inagain. Samuel remembered this man now: the dark-horse educated one from theinterview with their 'lost sheep'. ‘Looked like Devon to me,’ he wenton. ‘The demi-demon was leading an army and blackening the land.’

‘Humanityin retreat?’ Trevan suggested. ‘The rout of Christendom?’ He could well guess.

‘Prettymuch. Superb detail. There's been a fine artist down here somewhen: totalcontrast to the surrounding squalor. Oh - and he had that symbol business onhis crown: a human skull and bull's horns plus that symbol.’

‘He?’Samuel asked. Above-ground would want every detail. There arrived anuncalled-for image of the Sicarii sinking his teeth into any gap.

‘Definitely!’said the soldier. ‘Huge cocker rampant! And there was a great orange egg-shellcracking-....’

‘Andan eye and teardrop,’ said Cook, trying to elbow his way back into thede-brief. ‘And toppled crosses and-....’

Religion,religion, religion - ever the bane of Samuel's life. He suspected that here hadnever ceased to be a religious house - of one sort or another.

‘Right,’he said, cutting across it all before everyone wanted a go. ‘I get the picture:if you'll excuse the pun. Leaving the decor aside, what more do we know? Theplan's standard you say?’

‘Ithink so,’ answered Cook.

‘Sothe heart of the place will be where?’

‘Down- and tending west-wards. That's where the main parts will sit.’

‘Like?’

‘Well,um... the high altar, the quire, maybe the abbot’s quarters and....’

 ‘And the way there?’

Trevanwas keeping up the pace, but meanwhile Wulfstan was a whisker off incandescentat being so marginalized.

‘Youdon't need no book-study to tell you that!’ he said. ‘I scent a down-draught:outside and west-ways: I mean to say: left-ward. That's our path.’

‘Yep,’Cook chipped in, liking his new prominence after years of dogsbody-dom. ‘We sawa deeper black outside on our way here: only we were hurrying and didn't-....’

‘Don'ttread on my heels, boy,’ snapped Wulfstan. ‘I mentioned her first.’

Theslave's rebellion was crushed and the senior engineer present redeemed himselfby being spot on when they checked.

Thestairs were broad and gracious - once upon a time. Now they were old andblemished by slapdash repairs. Their careless inheritors had stained them innumberless ways and the party weaved round various pools and packages,declining to enquire. The sordid descent continued for fifty steps.

Theythen arrived at the edge of a square landing, just small enough to be declaredempty by their torches. Corridors bisected the other three walls. Samuel hadthem form circle whilst the two engineer factions argued the way ahead.

Wulfstanand Cook engaged in bitter whispers about which avenue to take, thusproclaiming neither was really sure.

‘Forwardin column,’ Trevan ordered - since that happened to be the direction he wasfacing.

Itled on for a fair while through dust and dinge. Sometimes the way broadenedinto vacant rooms; other times they had to squeeze close, shoulder to shoulder.Samuel had Wulfstan as his partner. The Saxon was now grimly focused on beingright and Trevan noted it for future reference. Injured pride seemed to be amarvellous motivator.

‘Ithink maybe we should have gone-….’ Wulfstan started to express doubts but thenbit the words to death as their random path was rewarded.

Thecorridor ended in an enormous chamber, though not quite so high and cavernousas the cloister cave. It was also far more elongated. One side wall comprised along row of narrow doors.

‘Thedormitories, or ‘dorter’,’ said Cook, from some way back. ‘Where themonks slept. There'll be a little cell behind each door.’

Well,it was always good to learn new words, but the schooling could stop there. Witha shock, Samuel found that his natural curiosity had withered, leaving only aboundless indifference about how Time had treated the monks' rooms. Doubtlessthey had new occupants and uses but he could live without finding out. He hopedthat that was just caution, not cowardice….

Eitherway, maybe the wobble was detected for, just as Samuel framed the thought andsurprised himself, a fixture of the accommodation came out to say hello. Sortof.

Shemust have been standing very still out in the darkness, listening to them, orperhaps watching with acclimatised eyes. When she did move her Judas chaininstantly betrayed her presence.

Thegirl ought to have been grateful not to be shot; a pale, clanking figuresuddenly staggering into the light. But thereagain, given her plight, perhapsthat would have been welcomed.

Thesoldiers initially found grounds to hold fire in her gender and nakedness. Thenit became clear she was more a subject for pity than fear.

‘Canyou speak, my love?’ asked one of the softer-hearted men.

Shecould and did. Sing-song words came from the beautiful but slack face, tumblingout of a meaningless radiant smile. They listened carefully but could notunderstand.

‘Welsh,I think,’ said Wulfstan. ‘Or maybe Kernoack.’

‘Anyonespeak that?’ asked Trevan. This was unforeseen. Given his past experiences he'ddemanded only fluent English speakers for this trip.

‘No,’said the Wizard, not troubling to disguise his top-to-toe appraisal of thepotentially pretty form. ‘But I misdoubt discourse would profit us in any case.Listen again.’

Theydid. The chorus continued and soon became samey.

‘It'sjust repeated phrases,’ the Wizard confirmed. ‘A song or poem I reckon. Poorgorgeous raven-hair is no really longer with us, are you sweetie?’

Shelooked through, round or over his direct question.

‘Ithought not,’ he answered himself, and began a circle of inspection of thegirl. ‘She's seen too much - or are you a devotee? Or else - oh, I say!’

Samuelhesitated, but then looked as directed. A bright red and blue target waspainted - or perhaps tattooed - over the cheeks of her backside. The soldiersforgot dignity and compassion and orders to scramble for a goggle.

‘Andwho keeps you in such servitude I wonder?’ asked the Wizard, not expecting anyreply. He lifted the delicate silver coils of her chain with two fingers. Ittrailed back from her elegant