Free The Tintern Treasure by Kate Sedley Page A

so.
    â€˜Master Chapman,’ he said, ‘you look a sturdy, broad-shouldered fellow. Perhaps you would accompany me. Meanwhile, Brother Mark, rouse some of the other brothers and come after us, although I feel certain you’re starting at shadows. If there is anyone there, there will be a perfectly sound explanation for it.’
    â€˜I’ll come as well,’ the goldsmith offered, rising briskly from his seat. He looked enquiringly at the others. ‘Anyone else?’
    No one volunteered. I couldn’t blame them. We could all hear the rain hammering down outside.
    Gilbert Foliot shrugged. ‘Lead the way, then, Lord Abbot. Master Chapman and I will be right behind you.’
    We followed the abbot out of doors, leaving the warmth of candle- and firelight to be soaked in the first two minutes by sharp spears of rain falling from a storm-riven sky. Fortunately it was only a short walk across a patch of muddy ground, past a couple of outhouses, before the abbot paused in front of a two-storey building, listened for a moment, then motioned us to accompany him round to the front. Here, there were two rows of three windows apiece, all being closed and silent except for one on the ground floor, which did indeed show chinks of light between the slats of the shutters. We moved closer.
    â€˜Brother Mark is right,’ the abbot said. ‘There is someone in there. One of the novices, no doubt, up to some mischief.’
    He squared his shoulders, marching back around the corner to a side door which he pushed open with a resounding crack, before leading the way along a short passage to another door on the left. But just as he was about to fling this wide, words of reprimand on his lips, it was jerked open from inside and a figure stood framed in the doorway.
    The abbot gasped and we all fell back a pace, startled by this sudden apparition, but that momentary hesitation was our undoing. The young man – for, despite the hood pulled well forward to obscure his face, there was no doubting either his youth or sex – simply charged between us and out into the night. I was the first to recover and, pushing Master Foliot unceremoniously aside, rushed after him. By this time, however, reinforcements had arrived in the shape of Brother Mark and an intrepid band of his fellow monks who, on sighting their quarry, gave an excited whoop and set off in pursuit. Confident that the intruder would soon be caught, I returned to the abbot’s old lodging to discover what had been going on there.
    This was immediately apparent. Several tiles had been prised loose from around the hearthstone, revealing a gaping hole beneath. The abbot and Gilbert Foliot were standing over it, regarding the empty space, but the latter turned his head sharply at my entrance. ‘Did you catch him?’
    â€˜No. But don’t worry. Brother Mark and his posse are hard on his heels.’ I, too, stared into the hole. ‘Is this the . . . er . . .?’
    The goldsmith nodded. ‘Yes, this is the secret hiding place that was accidentally found fourteen years ago.’
    The abbot chewed a thumbnail. ‘But why would anybody want to open it up again? Everything that was in there was removed when it was discovered. Everyone knows that.’
    â€˜I wonder,’ I mused. ‘Is what we can see of the hole all that there is, Father?’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜I’m wondering if the hiding place is perhaps bigger than was thought at the time. If it was properly explored back then.’
    The abbot looked bewildered, but Gilbert Foliot nodded excitedly. ‘I see what you’re getting at, Chapman. You mean that when the account books and scraps of old diary were found, nothing else was searched for. It was assumed that that was all there was.’
    â€˜Yes.’ I dropped to my knees and, leaning forward, thrust my arm into the aperture, bending lower so that I could probe sideways. Sure