Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey Read Free Page B

Valentine’s Well, now regarded as a wishing well but in reality a pond about the size of a tennis court. It was not usual to find such a pond or well on a hilltop but this was due to the many springs in the area, some overflowing at high altitude from the huge water-filled caverns underground. This locality was almost a mile from the abbey whilst being deep within Nick’s recently inherited Ashwell Priory woodland. The casualty was therefore on Nick’s property. But he said nothing about that at this stage.
    As Barnaby’s tale unfolded under gentle questioning, he suggested the man would be difficult to find because he was lying in thick undergrowth, adding that he was not dressed in hiking gear but wore a dark green T-shirt, blue jeans and white canvas plimsolls. He said the man had white skin, dark hair and was about thirty years old. Barnaby had not noticed a rucksack nearby, neither had he seen a tent in the woods – but as he said, he had visited only a very small part of the entire woodland, which was rather isolated. Nick wondered whether he should call a doctor or even the county police, but decided it would be wise to first establish the true situation. Barnaby’s assessment might be faulty – the fellow might have been lying asleep or hiding in the hope of spotting a rare bird. Nick did not wish to cause undue alarm or unnecessary work by rushing headlong into the situation. A cautious approach was needed.
    ‘Barnaby, can we be sure this is a body? Could it be somebody asleep?’
    ‘First I thought he was asleep, Mr Rhea, and I tried to wake him to ask if he was all right but his cheek was cold and stiff so now I think he’s dead, so I do.’
    ‘Anything else? Did you notice anything else?’
    ‘A spot or two of blood near his head. Among the leaves. I never touched that, I swear.’
    ‘Blood? Where would it have come from? Any idea?’
    ‘It was near his head, on some leaves. I saw it. I never touched it, and I never did touch him either, so help me …’
    ‘I know you didn’t, Barnaby. You’ve done the right thing by telling us about it. So will you show us where he is?’
    The shock of the discovery must have alarmed poor Barnaby so it was rather surprising that he had responded by informing the police. It reminded Nick of the help Barnaby had given when young Simon Houghton had been trapped in the ruins of Ashwell Priory. Maybe in his maturity he was mellowing and coming to trust the police? Nick hoped so – Barnaby was good-hearted, if devious to a degree, but always nervous in the presence of police officers and priests.
    ‘Yes, I can take you there.’ And at that opportune moment, Father Alban Dale arrived. Tall, slim, fair-haired and in his forties, he was often called Allan after the Robin Hood character of Allan a’ Dale. One of his great ambitions was to visit every Marian shrine in the world, but this ancient pilgrimage site and its small well was dedicated to St Valentine so he hadn’t included that in his itinerary. Nonetheless, he had often visited the holy well for no other reason than it had once been the venue for pilgrimages. Equipped with portable radio sets, Father Alban, Barnaby and Nick used an abbey van to speed through the grounds towards Ashwell Priory woods.
    Father Alban parked near the old barns. They walked the final quarter of a mile and it took about twenty minutes to clamber up the steep hillside path as it snaked through the trees. Near the summit, Barnaby veered off the path to trudge through knee-deep undergrowth and bracken towards a patch of beech trees growing among very large boulders.
    ‘He’s over there,’ whispered Barnaby, pointing ahead towards the base of a very high cliff. ‘That’s where he was when I left. …’
    ‘Well, I hope he’s not there now,’ Nick commented. ‘I hope he’s alive and he’s woken up to continue his walk or whatever he came to do.’
    But the man was there; white-faced, still and deathly, just as Barnaby had