Herald of the Hidden Read Free

church. We exchanged casual, general conversation about the purpose of our visit, as he unlocked the tall barred railings guarding the Fitzgilbert crypt, and gestured for us to follow down shallow, worn stone steps.
    Electric light had been installed via one acorn-shaped lamp in a nook of the low ceiling, and this cast a brightness over the hushed, slumbering cell in which were interred the remains of a dynasty five hundred years old. I felt no particular distress about the confined presence of mortality, indeed I was reminded of a museum atmosphere, with its dusty exhibits estranged from any semblance to real flesh-and-blood people of times long ago. Ralph seemed absorbed in a close scrutiny of a number of fragmentary tomb slabs, and there was an expectant silence as Ronald Alwyn waited for him to finish. For my part, I merely stared vaguely about the crypt, feeling rather uncertain of my role here.
    After a while, my friend got up from his crouched position near a particular monument, nodded affably to our guide and led the way back up the steps. The gate was locked again behind us.
    ‘Thank you for allowing me this opportunity, it is very co-operative of you,’ Ralph commented, as we emerged. Then he turned directly to the particular cause of our call.
    ‘Mr Alwyn, I don’t want to sound unnecessarily mysterious, but am I not correct in saying there is rather more to the vandalism on the church roof than has been made public?’
    The Hon. Secretary cleared his throat. This bald assertion seemed to disconcert him a little.
    ‘Not at all,’ was his first wary response. ‘Why do you say that?’
    ‘I am sorry,’ returned Ralph, ‘I may sound like an outsider interfering. I realise the Trust must be careful to preserve the sanctity of the church and is anxious not to compromise its own credibility. But I do not believe vandals have been anywhere near this church in the manner which has been suggested. This means either that your contractors are less than competent and have caused the damage themselves, or . . .’ Ralph paused significantly. ‘Or is there another explanation?’
    Ronald Alwin sat down rather heavily on an ancient, polished pew. He seemed suddenly wearied.
    ‘I am not at liberty to discuss this matter,’ he began, unconvincingly.
    ‘Then I shall take my case to the newspaper. I must tell you that my own researches point in a rather alarming direction. I am sure it will prove extremely lurid attraction for a populist editor,’ was Ralph’s somewhat callous response.
    The ageing scholar sighed again.
    ‘You are most persistent,’ he objected in exasperation.
    There was a dull silence. Then:
    ‘Both of your alternatives might well apply. Our dilemma is this. The contractors whom we, the trustees, engaged to carry out the meticulous restoration work, have been most disappointing. They have progressed very slowly, with almost constant interruptions, and a negligence I regard as next to culpable. That is bad enough. But the excuses they give are equally disturbing from a company of supposedly professional reputation. They allege their work is being hindered all the while, and that some of their employees have refused to work on the site, because of . . . hummm, certain reasons.
    ‘At first we thought they were merely fabricating or exaggerating, to disguise their own faulty and plodding workmanship. Relations became very strained, and we took legal advice as to the possibility of dispensing with their services. At this point, their director insisted upon me speaking personally to some of his employees. What they told me, in no uncertain terms, has left me in something of a quandary. I do not know if I am misled most infamously, or if . . .’
    He broke off, as if in an agony of indecision.
    ‘Mr Alwyn,’ interjected Ralph, ‘I know you have been involved with this church and the village for a while now. You are also an authority on our regional history. So tell me if you know of a legend