The Demon in the Bones: Book 1 of the Mrs. Pendlebury Series

CHAPTER 1

1991

Sir? Why are we going to the Cathedral? asked Harriet.

Because we can learn a huge amount about history, R.S., art and music all in one place, replied Mr. Adams.

So what are we going to do when we get there, apart from learn, I mean? asked James.

We are having a guided tour from the Cathedral’s education officer, to start with. He will tell us some of the history of the building and the people who made it what it is today, answered Mr. Adams.

Is that all? asked James.

No. We hope that the cathedral organist will be available to show us a bit about the organ. He may be too busy of course, because I believe it is Voice Trials today, said Mr. Adams.

What are Voice Trials? asked Harriet.

That’s when the little boys and girls who want to be in the Cathedral Choir, come to be interviewed by and sing to the organist. So he has a very busy day today, but he has said he will squeeze us in for a few minutes at about four o’clock, if he possibly can. After that we will have a drink and a biscuit, then maybe I’ll let you wander around the Cathedral on your own for a few minutes, before we attend Choral Evensong, explained Mr. Adams.

The children went quiet for a while. It was obvious that they were not exactly enthusiastic about the prospect of the visit. However, it was part of the Headmaster’s new policy to get the children out into the community to learn at first hand whenever possible, especially the bright ones.

By now of course, boredom had set in. The initial excitement of an afternoon off school had worn off. The coach, on which they were travelling, was being driven extremely slowly. What should have been a twenty minute journey, had already taken half an hour and they were still on the outskirts of the city. Mr. Adams reflected that once they were off the coach, it would probably be all he could do to persuade them to act in a civilised way. It was therefore just as well that Mr. Thomas was also on the coach. Even with only twenty children, two members of staff were necessary. There were so many possibilities for problems when you had young people out of school. Granted, Exechester was not London, but there was no doubting it, the world was full of strange people, not all of whom meant well.

Do you know the organist? asked Mr. Thomas.

No, I’ve never met him. He hasn’t been there long has he? asked Mr. Adams.

No, only about a year, but I believe he is already making his presence felt, replied Mr. Thomas.

In what way? enquired Mr. Adams.

He was interrupted by loud noises from the rear of the coach. Both men turned around.

Emily! yelled Mr. Thomas. Sit down!

George! shouted Mr. Adams. Turn around and be quiet.

The noise subsided. Both men relaxed.

I was hoping not to have come today, Mr. Thomas said.

Why? Are you not interested? asked Mr. Adams.

Oh yes! Fascinated. But you know how it is? I’ve had to cancel orchestra, which is a pain so close to a school concert. And then there is all the work one has to set for ones classes that one is going to miss, explained Mr. Thomas.

And mark, added Mr. Adams.

Quite, agreed Mr. Thomas.

The Headmaster really has no idea, reflected Mr. Adams. It is a great idea in principle, but he never consults anyone about timing does he?

No! Never! agreed Mr. Adams. In fact, he never consults anyone about anything.

Sir? came a whinging voice from the middle of the coach.

Mr. Adams turned around. Yes Katie?

William keeps pulling my hair Sir! Katie complained.

Huh! replied William indignantly. I didn’t. It was Michael.

Liar! accused Michael.

All right! All right! soothed Mr. Adams. Just behave, all of you.

But Sir? Katie whinged again.

Enough! snapped Mr. Adams. Things went quiet.

Sir? asked Harriet.

Yes Harriet? asked Mr. Thomas, trying to be patient.

Are we nearly there yet?

Yes, only another couple of minutes, Mr. Thomas replied.

The noise from the pupils subsided to a general murmur.

Going back to what we were saying before we were rudely interrupted, said Mr. Thomas.

Yes? encouraged Adams.

I am looking forward to the Cathedral visit; it’s just having this lot with us I don’t like, continued Mr. Thomas. There’s nothing like a group of kids for spoiling things.

Quite right. Just think how quiet school would be without them! responded Mr. Adams, only half joking.

Blissful! mused Mr. Thomas.

They were roused from their daydream by the slowing down of the coach as it approached the turning into the Cathedral Close.

Right! yelled Mr. Adams. Quiet!

There were various Sssh-ing noises from the pupils. Some continued to talk.

George! Be quiet! ordered Mr. Thomas.

The noise died away.

Once the coach has stopped, began Mr. Adams, stay still until we tell you to move. When we do get off, don’t rush off, stay by the coach until we’re all off. Then we go all together.

Year 8? added Mr. Thomas, You are responsible for carrying the boxes of drink and biscuits.

Oh! Sir! whinged Henry. Do we have to?

No Henry, you do not, replied Mr. Thomas.

Great! answered Henry, triumphantly.

But if you don’t, it will stay on the coach and you’ll have to go hungry and thirsty, Mr. Thomas stated.

Oh! Sir! whinged Henry again.

Take your pick Henry. Carry the boxes, or go without, explained Mr. Thomas.

Henry went quiet, encouraged by a swift thump on the arm from George.

Right, said Mr. Adams. All ‘Walkmans’ must be left on the coach. Put them in the luggage rack above your head. Put blazers on. Now!

Must we? whinged Harriet.

Yes! It is cold outside and this is a school trip. So you must. Now stop complaining or we’ll take you back to school and you can spend the afternoon doing maths.

Oh! Sir! whinged Harriet again.

I’m not joking! stated Mr. Adams.

The pupils went quiet-ish. They began putting on blazers and storing their ‘Walkmans’ in the luggage racks.

OK. Let’s go, said Mr. Thomas.

The two teachers got off the coach and stood by the door. Slowly the pupils followed them. Mr. Thomas herded them to the edge of the pavement, because, like most children, they were swarming aimlessly about and blocking the path. When they had all left the bus, Mr. Thomas spoke to Mr. Adams.

You lead the way and I’ll bring up the rear, he suggested.

OK, responded Mr. Adams.

The journey to the Cathedral was quite short, being only a couple of hundred metres. Even so, the children managed to stretch the line to nearly that length in moments. Thomas had his work cut out, trying to keep them all together.

As they approached the west door of the Cathedral, a man, in sports’ jacket came up to them smiling.

Good afternoon, he said, extending his hand to Mr. Adams. Philip Atkins.

Good afternoon. John Adams, Mr. Adams replied, shaking hands briefly.

Everything all right? Mr. Atkins asked.

Yes, thank you, replied Mr. Adams.

What I thought we’d do, began Mr. Atkins, is to start in the Chapter House. You can leave your boxes and things there, he said, as the rest of the group gathered around. From there we’ll have a tour of the Cathedral and I’ll tell your pupils something of the history and architecture of the Cathedral, as well as a bit about some of the people buried here. How does that sound?

That sounds fine. I’m sure it’ll be fascinating, said Mr. Adams.

Good. Then if you’ll follow me, we’ll get started.

Atkins set off at a good pace. The children, urged on by Mr. Thomas and Mr. Adams, trotted along, trying to keep up. Mr. Atkins by-passed the west front of the building, turning south and then east, into the area that had once been the cloisters. Keeping the south wing of the cloisters, containing the visitors’ centre and refectory, to their right, they approached a small door into the Chapter House. Once through the door, they turned right and immediately through another door, into the Chapter House. Even the bored and disinterested among the pupils were awe-struck by the sight that greeted them. There were various modern statues in the niches in the walls, all of them life size. The ceiling was painted beautiful colours and there was stained glass in the windows. Along one side there was a row of three trestle tables with aluminium legs.

You can leave your boxes on these tables and anything else you do not want to take with you, Mr. Atkins said. He paused. Do any of you have mobile phones? he asked.

Yes, replied Mr. Thomas.

Then please make sure that it is switched off before we go into the Cathedral, Mr. Atkins said.

Mr. Thomas pulled his phone out, pressed the button, there was a brief ‘beep’; then he put it back in his pocket.

The boxes and one or two pupils’ bags were left on the tables.

Right. Let’s go, Mr. Atkins said. Follow me.

The pupils began to follow him, urged on (and in some cases pushed), by Mr. Thomas and Mr. Adams. They went back through the door by which they’d entered the Chapter House, but continued straight on and up a short flight of steps. At the top was a door, which led straight into the south transept.

As the pupils entered the Cathedral, they could not help but touch and run their fingers over the large thirty-two foot organ pipes that lined the west wall of the transept.

Mr. Atkins led the long line of pupils into the nave, west of the nave altar and encouraged them to sit in the first two rows of chairs.

Sit in the first two or three rows please, but only on this side. No, not over there! to one boy who’d deliberately got it wrong. If you sit over there you will not be able to hear what I’m saying and I shan’t shout.

When finally, all were seated, except Mr. Adams and Mr. Thomas, who stood either end of the rows of seats, Mr. Atkins began.

Good afternoon. My name is Philip Atkins. I’m education officer at the Cathedral. If you look all around you, including upwards, you will see a building built entirely of stone and glass, which was begun in the early twelfth century. So how old would the oldest parts be? he asked. He then waited while none of the pupils answered.

Come on, he encouraged. If this is the twentieth century now, and the Cathedral was begun in the twelfth century, how old are the oldest parts?

One or two pupils were counting on their fingers, some were looking up at the ceiling. One put up a hand.

Yes? encouraged Mr. Atkins.

Eight thousand years? asked George.

Eight thousand? queried Mr. Atkins. One or two pupils giggled. That would make it nearly twice as old as the Egyptian pyramids. I don’t think so. Come on someone else.

One hundred and twenty years? volunteered Katie.

No. Anyone else?

Eight hundred years? suggested Henry.

That’s a little closer. In fact, the oldest parts are nearly a thousand years old, but most of what you can see from here is between eight and nine hundred years old, finished Mr. Atkins.

His words began to slowly sink in. The children, one by one, began to look around them, seeing, for the first time, their surroundings. Heads turned to look behind and tilted to look upwards.

Mr. Atkins used his skill with words to captivate his audience. He could see that they were becoming interested, despite themselves. So, while he had their attention he told them of the earliest Saxon minster, built slightly to the south of the present building. He told them of how the See of Exechester was transferred to the city in 1050. He told them of the first Cathedral built by the Normans and of the few remaining areas still visible in the north and south transepts, which they built.

Finally he brought them back by describing the building around them. He brought the pre-Reformation wall paintings to life, with their magnificent scenes and colours. They gazed around, with ever increasing stiffness in their necks, at the roof bosses and gasped as he pointed out the real gold leaf details.

When eventually he stopped, the children sat looking in various directions, evidently unaware that he was no longer talking. Mr. Atkins, Mr. Thomas and Mr. Adams smiled to each other at the look of absent-minded wonder and distraction on the faces of the pupils.

Before the children came back to reality and became disinterested, Mr. Atkins started again. This time he was deliberately different in tone and intent.

Of course, he said, there have been thousands of people buried in and around the Cathedral over the years. In fact right now, under your feet, there are hundreds of bodies lying.

He stopped and waited. In a fraction of a second, the expected reaction happened.

Ugh! exclaimed Harriet, raising her feet. You mean… ? she said.

Yes, said Mr. Atkins, with a straight face. If you all look down, (they all did), you may see stone slabs with writing on them. The writing actually tells you the name of the person whose bones are a few feet beneath you.

Ugh! That’s disgusting! exclaimed Harriet.

Gross! agreed Emily.

The boys were all looking remarkably disinterested. Some of them a little too deliberately. It would, of course, be totally ‘uncool’ to appear affected by mere bones!

Right then, Mr. Atkins continued, let’s go and look around. We’ll go and look in the north transept first. Please keep up, as I shall be walking quite fast.

The children began to stand up. He set off.

Oh! And don’t step on the named slabs, you might wake someone up.

Off he walked at a great pace, laughing all over his face. Behind him, the boys all made a point of standing on the named slabs, while the girls, very nervously picked their way around walking on the plain stones.

Now, began Mr. Atkins as he halted in the transept. Here is what we call a Chantry Chapel. It is a small, miniature church within the Cathedral. It was built with money given by one of the Cathedral’s fourteenth century bishops, Walter Smythe.

Why? asked Henry.

"Because they believed in those days, that if prayers were said for your soul after you died, then you would go to Heaven far faster and spend less time in the place they called Purgatory, which was where you went until God had decided whether you were fit to go to Heaven or Hell.

But the point of showing you this particular Chantry Chapel, when there are so many in the Cathedral, is that on the wall behind, if you can see it, is one of the few medieval wall paintings still surviving. If you look closely, the children shifted about to get a better look, you should be able to make out the figure of Christ risen from the dead, surrounded by angels.

I can’t see angels, protested George.

They are a little faint, explained Mr. Atkins, but if you look carefully, you might be able to see their wings.

The children looked carefully, despite themselves. Adams and Thomas, studying the pupils, while still listening, were fascinated at how interested they were.

From the transept, Mr. Atkins led them to the north choir aisle, where they looked at a replica of one of the roof bosses. They studied its size and speculated about the weight and problems of getting two tonnes of solid stone block up to the ceiling.

Next they went to the tomb of Bishop Beere.

Shortly after the Bishop was buried, in the thirteenth century, there were reports of miracles happening at his tomb. People flocked from all over the country to pray in the hope that they would be cured of their ailments. They made offerings to the Cathedral while they were here, which explains why the Bishop’s tomb is so large and elaborate. It also explains where all the money came from to finish the building work that had been begun at the time.

As they began walking east, Harriet spoke to Mr. Adams.

Sir? she began quietly.

Yes Harriet? Mr. Adams asked.

Are there really bones under the floor? she asked, with a worried expression on her face.

Yes there are, Mr. Adams answered honestly.

But, but… Harriet began again, before faltering.

But what? asked Mr. Adams, quietly.

But will I really wake them up if I tread on their name? she asked.

No, you won’t, replied Mr. Adams solemnly, but smiling inwardly. Mr. Atkins was pulling your leg.

Harriet began walking again. She was still frowning and was plainly unconvinced by Mr. Adams’ explanation.

They caught Mr. Atkins up in the Lady Chapel. He was concluding an explanation of the origins of the Chapel, before pointing out some of the notable features in the architecture and tombs.

On the left, he was saying, you can see some of the later Tudor tombs. If you look at them you must be able to see the most notable feature, the ruffs around the necks of the figures. Over on the opposite side, is the earliest tomb in the Cathedral, that of Bishop Edmund. He was the first Saxon Bishop of Exechester and was bishop from 1050 until his death in 1071. He survived the Norman Conquest of England in 1066.

Harriet and Emily walked over to look at the tomb. It was low and flat, with a plainly carved figure of a man wearing a mitre, robes and carrying a bishop’s crosier.

They stood in front of the tomb and gazed at it for several seconds, before Harriet whispered to Emily.

Do you think his bones are under there?

I don’t know, replied Emily.

Mr. Atkins overheard the whisper as it was amplified by the acoustics of the Chapel.

Actually, no-one knows where the bishop’s bones are buried and no-one has opened this tomb to see whether there are bones inside. It is possible that he was buried in a different part of the Cathedral, or even in the earlier, Norman building. If that’s the case, he could be anywhere.

As they left the Lady Chapel, Harriet and Emily looked back at the tomb of Bishop Edmund. The expression on their faces said that they were not entirely convinced. They clearly would not have been surprised if the ghost of Bishop Edmund had risen up through the stone lid of his tomb to bid them farewell.

The tour continued. Mr. Adams and Mr. Thomas were quietly concerned about the length of time it was taking. Some of the pupils were beginning to look tired. They needed to sit down and have a break. However, the tour was interesting. Just as the pupils began to fidget, Mr. Atkins led them off to the next part of the building. So eventually, they arrived back at the south transept. Mr. Atkins went over to Mr. Adams and Mr. Thomas.

I think it is about time for your troops to have a break, he suggested.

Good idea, agreed Mr. Adams, rather relieved.

Perhaps it would be a good idea if you went back to the Chapter House and had your drinks, continued Mr. Atkins.

Fine, Mr. Thomas said.

I’ll give you about twenty minutes for a break, then I thought it might be fun if they tried some brass rubbing. Do you think they’d like that? Mr. Atkins asked.

I’m sure they’d love it, enthused Mr. Adams. I know I would!

Good. I’ve obtained special permission from the Dean, for you to rub some of the brasses in the Cathedral. They’ll have to be very careful, of course, Mr. Atkins said.

Don’t worry, Mr. Thomas assured him, we’ll keep a very close eye on them. We appreciate that this is a great privilege.

Good. In that case I’ll see you in the Chapter House in about twenty minutes, Mr. Atkins concluded.

CHAPTER 2

1054

The Minster Church was cold and dark. Although it was mid-morning, the sky was overcast and there was little light coming in through the very small windows either side of the nave. Through the narrow doorway into the chancel, it was even darker. One small window, situated over the top of the High Altar, shed very little light and the tiny chancel was damp and dark, despite two small candles which burned on the altar.

There was no furniture in the church at all, other than the High Altar itself. The floor was made of stone slabs and had rushes strewn over it. The solid, very thick stone walls gave the impression of a dungeon rather than a place of worship.

The door in the west wall opened with a quiet click. An old man walked in. He was dressed in a black habit, made of very coarse cloth, tied in the middle with a belt of twisted cloth. On his feet he wore a pair of simple leather sandals. He carefully closed the door, and rubbing his hands together, walked towards the High Altar. His skin, both face and hands, was pale from the cold and damp of the winter air outside. It was not any warmer in the church, but then he’d not come in to warm himself, but to pray.

In front of the High Altar the man knelt down on the rushes. He bowed his head, clasped his hands in front of his face and closed his eyes. For many minutes he remained still and silent, offering his prayers to The Almighty, in quiet devotion.

The only sound in the church was the occasional spit from one of the candles and the sound of the wind whistling in under the west door. However, while the man continued his prayers, the door burst open in a very un-holy fashion and another monk rushed into the church. He was dressed similarly to the first man, but was clearly flustered by something. He was in a hurry and closed the door noisily, making only the slightest of nods of respect to the altar, before rushing into the Chancel.

Seeing the first man on his knees in prayer, the second monk also knelt. His prayers however, did not last long. His mind was in too much of a whirl of panic and confusion to be able to concentrate on quiet prayer.

So, after a moment or two, he stood again. He took a pace towards the first monk and appeared to be about to tap him on the shoulder. However, he thought better of it and withdrew his hand, attempting to wait patiently for the first man to finish. In this he failed. After a minute or two of shuffling from one foot to another, he walked back into the nave and approached the door. Again he re-thought and turned back towards the altar.

For the next couple of minutes he paced backwards and forwards in the nave, before once again standing quietly, but not still, beside the first monk.

Meanwhile, the first monk unhurriedly continued to pray. If he felt any of the emotions of the second monk, he did not show it. His very demeanour was calm and serene.

Finally, his devotion finished, he raised his head and got stiffly to his feet. Without hurrying, he turned to face the second monk, who immediately dropped to his knees.

Now Brother Edgar, what is it that you are so anxious to tell me? asked the first monk quietly.

Forgive me Father for disturbing you, but the most dreadful and frightening thing has happened, gabbled Brother Edgar.

Slow down brother, slow down, said Father quietly, placing a calming hand on the shaven crown of the second monk.

I am sorry Father, but I am shaken to the very core of my soul. I cannot help myself, Brother Edgar said.

"In that case it must