Bertie and the Hairdresser Who Ruled the World (17 page)

BOOK: Bertie and the Hairdresser Who Ruled the World
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Not that she'd need much to achieve such a noble goal.

Bangles glittered on each wrist, loops of silver-chased beads hung around her neck and silver rings occupied every finger and thumb, so she obviously appreciated jewellery, but not enough to have her ears pierced. Two more disparate figures could not be imagined, yet in one way they were identical – both she and her middle-aged shock-haired companion wore half-moon glasses perched on the ends of their noses.

‘Hello, Gaia, always nice to see you here,' said the young girl.

‘Hi, Cutie. How's it going?'

‘Pretty good.' She pecked Doreen on each cheek and kissed the back of her hand. Cutie's companion tutted at the informality shown by her companion and chose to curtsy respectfully. Doreen nodded in response, looking suitably grave. Cutie giggled at her obeisance and turned to Celeste. ‘This has to be her. Celeste Timbrill, née Gordon. Welcome to Temple Hall, and welcome to Bertie as well. Gosh, he's a lovely boy, isn't he?' Bertie seemed to swell with pride at her admiring praise.

‘Celeste, I'd like you to meet Geraldine Pye, known to all, inevitably, as Cutie.'

‘Hello, Cutie, pleased to meet you.' Celeste used her left hand to shake Cutie's right. Bertie occupied the other arm like a giant blue gargoyle.

‘Likewise. This is Martha, our very own Scrabble champion. A word of warning – do not engage her in a Sudoku challenge! Don't be intimidated – she has been known to smile once in a while. She's my assistant.'

‘Your assistant?'

‘Your confusion is natural,' interposed Doreen as Cutie giggled behind her hand. It seemed she did a lot of giggling. ‘Cutie has been in charge of our library these last three years.'

‘Since I was sixteen,' said Cutie proudly, ‘but I couldn't do my job without Mama here.'

‘I'm not your Mama, you cheeky girl,' tutted Martha irritably. Celeste had a suspicion she did a lot of tutting.

‘We make the perfect team,' said Cutie. ‘Mama knows everything about everything.'

‘And you're good at computers, I guess,' said Celeste.

‘Computers?' Cutie was momentarily nonplussed. ‘Oh, no, we have no computers here. None at all.'

‘Pardon?'

‘Of course we don't have any computers. Computers can be corrupted, they're too unreliable, too delicate, too temperamental and are really excellent at losing information. Besides, they can be hacked by any spotty geek half my age. They are just too – too ephemeral. Around here we have a deep and healthy suspicion of anything new, like this latest generation of electronic books that's being so aggressively marketed. I don't like them at all. The great thing about a traditional book is that you can put it on a shelf, leave it there for five hundred years, take it down again, open it and start reading. All you need is light, conveniently provided by the sun every day. Could you do the same with an eBook? Don't think so. Modern computers have only existed for thirty years and yet we all rely on them so totally that a simple software failure can bring a company to its knees in seconds. Can't have that now, can we?' said Cutie with a frown. ‘Oh, no, that would be catastrophic.' It seems she did have a serious side after all.

‘I don't understand,' said Celeste. ‘You're a librarian, but you don't have any computers. How do you find anything?' She peered around the room, surprised at just how many of the books appeared identical.

‘We use a good old-fashioned card system, cross-referenced against author, title, subject, age and language. It's very simple and therefore extremely reliable, and still operates if the power goes off.'

‘A card system?' exclaimed Celeste, obviously surprised.

‘It works for us. Actually, it's worked very well for quite a while,' she added with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

‘Sounds to me like you need to move with the times,' observed Celeste.

‘But we do – we no longer use Latin!'

‘But surely a computer would help enormously.'

‘No,' said Cutie decisively, shaking her head. ‘It wouldn't, and you'll soon see why. Shall we show them, Gaia?'

‘That's why we're here, Cutie. Do your thing, babe.'

Cutie walked to a large oak panel beside the smoke-stained fireplace. An oval brass plate set into the floorboards at her feet marked the spot where Isaac Newton solved Fermat's Last Theorem and invented the cat flap. She grinned over her shoulder at Celeste and reaching high above her head with both arms, pressed simultaneously on two innocuous wooden bosses. There was a heavy, well-oiled clunk and the panel unlatched, springing outwards an inch or so. Cutie pulled it back on great iron hinges to reveal a short stone passageway beyond. The floor was perfectly level, the walls perhaps an arm's span wide, the ceiling a graceful arch overhead. Warm light glowed off golden walls.

‘Spooky! Scared of ghosts, Celeste?'

‘No, but I do want to make sure Bertie won't be alarmed. What's down there?'

‘Wonders beyond your imagination,' whispered Cutie theatrically.

‘Do we really have to go in?'

‘Yes, we do, but don't worry, the passage doesn't get any smaller. It's neither damp nor dark and there are no spiders. There's a landing, then some stairs further in, but they're straight and shallow and very easy to negotiate. We have a lovely sunny day as well so there'll be plenty of light. Now, before we enter I have to ask if you have anything combustible on you?'

‘Combustible?'

‘Anything that can burn. Matches, napalm, pocket-sized tactical nuke, Boeing Dreamliner, anything like that?'

‘No. Why?'

‘We take nothing in there that can burn and you'll soon see why. Gaia?'

‘Thanks, Cutie. Before we go down, I want to impress on you that what you're about to see can never be discussed or revealed. We're going to show you something truly remarkable, something so amazing that even though I've seen it many times before, I'm still totally overwhelmed each time I come here. It's important you see this because it will help you understand in a way I cannot explain with mere words. I'm placing absolute trust in you, Celeste, but I'm supremely confident my trust will be vindicated, even though you and I met only for the first time this morning. You have to give me your word you'll never talk about this except to the people who you see here in this room, and even then you'll always need to be discreet in case of wagging ears.'

‘I don't know if I can give such a promise. It depends on what I'm about to see,' said Celeste carefully.

‘There's nothing bad or evil here. I'm not asking you to promise anything beyond your abilities. This is a good secret to keep. You'll understand when you've seen.'

Celeste hesitated for a moment then nodded, and having committed herself suddenly felt a powerful surge of curiosity tinged with bone-deep excitement. A tingle skittered down her spine. Something at the end of that passage called to her on a visceral level. She stroked Bertie's head and muttered a few words of comfort to him, but he was craning his neck, peering into the tunnel with a steady stare, his interest already consumed. Celeste followed Doreen through the open panel and into the passageway with Bertie on her arm. Cutie stepped in behind her and Martha brought up the rear.

The panel closed with a snick and Celeste looked around in surprise. The tunnel was sealed yet remained bathed in light, but she could see no windows or lamps of any kind. Instead, bright shafts of sunlight poured in through circular apertures set in the roof and walls. The women descended a short flight of stairs into a small hexagonal chamber, each wall perhaps ten or twelve feet wide. More openings in the vaulted ceiling provided illumination, each dazzling spot of brilliance about a foot in diameter and regularly spaced.

The masonry around her was still as fresh as the day it was cut, the sublime honey-cream Cotswold limestone glowing warmly in the golden subterranean sunshine, the joints between each carved block barely visible. The floor was black marble and worn smooth down the centre from the shuffling of thousands of feet. She became acutely aware that this place was old beyond measure. A further passage led off to the right. An inscription was carved into the arch overhead.

Non nobis solum.

‘That's Latin,' she said, looking up at the chiselled words.

‘It is indeed,' replied Cutie. ‘What do you think it says?'

‘I haven't a clue. My languages are English and Portuguese.'

‘It was put there by the master mason who made this place. He knew his Cicero. It's part of a longer quote and means, “Not for ourselves alone”. Quite appropriate, I think you'll find.' They passed under the arch and proceeded down the tunnel. Celeste peered into one of the wall apertures as she passed, shielding her eyes against the brightness. Intense light was funnelled down a long polished metal tube set in the rock before streaming out horizontally across the passage. ‘This is amazing. Where does the light come from?'

‘Just you wait,' Cutie murmured conspiratorially, ‘just you wait!'

They reached another flight of stairs after perhaps fifty yards or so. Again, a number of tubes clustered in the arched ceiling provided ample light. Celeste could easily see to the bottom of the stairs as she began to descend. ‘There are ninety-nine steps,' said Cutie. ‘Never figured out why, but I guess the Sisters had a sense of humour. However, we do know from our records that the master mason argued for a nice round hundred. Romans, eh, always so conventional!' They negotiated the stairs carefully and proceeded along another identical passageway. Celeste had a good sense of direction and guessed they were directly under the low hill she'd noticed rising up behind Temple Hall. They were now easily several hundred feet below ground.

The passage ended and they stepped out into a huge chamber, an enormous subterranean cavern. Light flooded in through scores of tubes set in the domed ceiling high above their heads. The space was vast, well over two hundred feet across. It was such an astonishing and totally unexpected sight that Celeste simply stopped dead in her tracks, gaping uncontrollably. Cutie scampered past and twirled across the floor as if dancing, her arms spread high and wide, her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face.

‘Welcome, Celeste! Welcome, Bertie!' she called, her girlish voice echoing. ‘Welcome to The Temple, the library of the Sisterhood of Helen and beyond all doubt the greatest repository of knowledge on this good planet Earth!'

CHAPTER TEN

It took some time before Celeste was able to gather herself. Eventually, the numbing plateau of shock receded and she began to take in details. The Temple was cloverleaf in shape, with six identical apses radiating out from a central domed rotunda like petals around the heart of a flower, each with massive, curving limestone walls. The blocks were cut square and true and finely chiselled to produce a rough but pleasing effect. These curving apses were themselves of significant size, with great hemispherical ceilings and colonnaded entrances, while the heart of the Temple was circular with the domed roof above supported by a ring of smooth grey granite columns. Arches sprang in all directions, leaping from column to column overhead. Over the ages, small white stalactites had formed in some of the joints high above, but the building was still sound and the roof looked solid enough to support mountains. The craftsmen who had assembled this structure were seeking strength and longevity, but had still managed to create a building of simple grace and elegance, even though the entire interior was devoid of any decoration but for a line of bold inscriptions running around a frieze at the base of the central dome: Latin, Greek, Arabic and other ancient tongues Celeste did not recognise. There was a quiet heaviness that spoke of centuries, but Cutie's happy humming seemed to breathe life into the ancient stones.

The walls of each apse were lined with shelves, thick slabs of the dark marble supported by heavy pillars of masonry. Further simple shelves of English oak, identical to those in the Temple Hall library above, stood in concentric circles radiating out from the centre like waves formed when a stone is dropped into a pool of knowledge. These stacks were a later addition, Celeste could see, necessary because the library had slowly filled over the centuries. At the very centre, right in the heart of the Temple, were several desks and workbenches, all positioned beneath the greatest concentration of light tubes. Sunlight poured down like spotlights in a theatre, illuminating every corner of the ancient building, but the light was brightest in the centre.

And books! There were books everywhere – tens of thousands of books. The marble shelves were stacked high with documents and ancient tomes of every description: codices, tubes containing scrolls of papyrus and leather, engraved metal sheets, carved ivory folios, clay and stone tablets, wax boards, parchments, vellum and medieval leather-bound volumes almost too heavy to lift.

Compelled by wonder, Celeste slowly wandered forward in amazement, for once totally overwhelmed, and after gazing around and up at the massive dome well over a hundred feet above her head, found herself meandering aimlessly towards the desks, perhaps drawn by the pool of warm light, perhaps by a sudden need to sit down. Bertie stirred and before she could stop him, leapt from her arm. He soared upwards, chattering and whistling, flitting from apse to apse as he explored eagerly. The Temple was large enough for some serious flying and he swooped between the columns like a scrap of blue paper blown by the wind.

‘Cutie, can you please stop cavorting around like an infant and come here for a moment,' chided Doreen. ‘I can see Celeste needs some answers to her questions.'

‘Sure. I can do the tour guide act. No point in asking Mama – she can only talk to the books! What do you want to know, Celeste? Everything?'

Celeste nodded, then realised very quickly how Cutie had attained her position. The girl talked with a precision born of frightening intelligence and a profoundly deep understanding of her subject. It seemed utterly incongruous that such a youngster barely out of puberty could hold so much knowledge and present it in so clear and logical a way.

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