Freya's Quest (23 page)

I was led to the fake bookcase I’d discovered on my first visit, seemingly months ago. Now what had always been the obvious finally entered my mind: it had to be a secret door!

I walked over to it and began a detailed examination. The carving of the books had been expertly rendered, the overlay of different paints crowning the effect. I ran my fingers across the surface, searching for some kind of mechanism which might open it. But I found none.

I stepped back, viewing the unit in its entirety. I noticed one book was sloping to one side, on the middle shelf, when all the others were upright. I felt into the space between this carved book and the next. My fingers touched a metal ring. I pulled on this and heard a clunk.

I stepped back, with bated breath, then thrust my outstretched hands against the bookcase. And the whole unit, hinged on one side, moved outwards. It was indeed a hidden entrance.

I ran back to the main library door, checking for any signs of Dylan. There were none, so I returned and stepped over the dark threshold. I found myself in a small chamber. Light was coming in from the left. As I walked into this space, I found myself looking back into the library. The glass must have been the backing of the mirror.

I felt around the edges of the room at this end, but found no way forward. I returned to the entrance, opening the doorway further to cast in extra light. A narrow staircase swept up into the shadows.

I started to ascend. After two full twists of the spiral, I was met by a solid oak door. I found a handle, and grabbed it. It opened stiffly. I was suddenly bathed in light. I was on a well-decorated landing, with a wider staircase heading upwards. I saw another door on my right, unlocked the latch and found myself out on the bedroom landing.

Realizing I had to be inside the tower, I immediately shut the door and headed back whence I’d come. I knew Dylan was up there. There was no telling what might happen if he discovered me.

Once back in the library, I was about to close the bookcase door, when I looked down. There was a trapdoor in the floor, directly under the first step. I brushed my hands over its wooden surface, discovering a brass-ringed handle and pulled. It was very heavy and I had to strain hard to lift it over the perpendicular. Its hinges creaked, which suggested no one had opened it for quite some time. I dusted my hands off against the top of my jeans and gazed down through the opening. The spiral staircase appeared to descend further into the depths.

I’d never been very brave in the dark, so I wasn’t encouraged to venture forward. Instead, I rushed out of the Lodge and over to the stabling block. I remembered seeing various torches in amongst the tools. I leant against the side of the Austin-Healey and rifled through various boxes. I picked out two large torches and a box of matches and returned to the library.

I tested them both out down the hole and picked the one with the stronger bulb. I crept down the stairs, with increasing trepidation. I counted twenty steps before I hit another level surface. I shone the torch down at my feet to be met by black-and-white tiling similar to the flooring in the ruined chapel. Then I scanned upwards to a superb vaulted-brick ceiling.

I edged forward, along a small passageway and through a pillared archway. The torchlight didn’t hit on anything but blackness at first. Then I realized I had entered a large open space. I turned and followed the side on the wall with my fingers, directing the torch beam along the hewn stonework.

I was becoming increasingly disappointed. While large, it appeared to be no more than a storage cellar.

I was about to give up on any further exploration, when my hand felt something metallic. The torchlight confirmed it to be an ornate structure, housing an old beacon. I pulled up the old wooden handle and it came away quite easily. There was a cloth wick still in the top, surrounded by metal gauze. I placed the torch at my feet and drew out the matchbox. I lit the beacon. I coughed as a foul-smelling odour filled my nostrils. When this had subsided, I realized the beacon was producing a lot more light than the torch.

I swayed the beacon above my head. Now I could see I was in a large man-made cavern. A vaulted ceiling, supported by serried rows of pillars, ran for over a hundred feet. There were other beacon holders along both walls. There were also rusting iron chains and shackles mounted at regular intervals. On closer inspection, the shackles appeared to be dog collars.

As I stepped through the pillars, I was met by a pentagram within a circle on the floor tiles. I moved into the middle. Then my right foot gave way, and I keeled over. I felt my ankle throb with pain and clutched at it, writhing in agony. Once back to my senses, I realized I’d not done any lasting damage. I picked up the flaming beacon again. I’d fallen into a hole about two feet deep. It appeared to be in the centre of the floor pattern and was perfectly round. A closer inspection showed signs of burning inside. I looked upwards and could make out a tapering chimney in the ceiling.

I climbed to my feet again, testing the ankle and finding it could still take my weight. Then I crept further forward. Ten feet past the end of the pattern, I came across a raised stone dais. I thrust the beacon forward.

I began to make out a carving of exquisite quality on marble. I staggered back when glimpsing scenes of a sexual nature on this frieze. It formed one side of a plinth, some six foot by two. All the other sides were similarly carved. I expected the top to be smooth, but there was a deep impression in the marble. As I traced its outline, it was as if someone had lain flat on a lump of wet concrete to create an indentation of human form. But this effect had all been achieved by the skill of a stonemason.

I leant against the plinth and peered further into the gloom. The light cast by the beacon was ebbing away as the wick burnt down. I could see enough to safely negotiate the edge of the dais on the other side and walked slowly onwards.

Then I recoiled in fright!

There was a horned head staring at me from the far wall. It was like the centrepiece of the medallion and the gargoyle above the entrance to the ruined chapel. But this was a much larger carving, with a diameter of at least five feet.

I fell backwards on the floor, jarring my back. The torch exploded into pieces to my left and the beacon rolled off across the floor and was soon extinguished.

I was left in utter darkness. Scared. With only my thudding heartbeat for company.

Eventually, I recovered enough to feel around on the floor for the beacon. This took longer than envisaged. When I traced the outline of its handle, I picked it up and fiddled with the matchbox. Once I’d relit it, I braved another look at the horned head, stepping closer. The eyes had red-coloured glass in them. Traces of wax, which had dripped down over the cheeks, gave the impression the face was crying. It looked as if the lenses could be opened and candles placed inside to add to the effect.

Underneath the head, there was a sunken archway. Another flight of stairs led down from the dais to give access to this. I descended and found my way into another anteroom. The concave shape of the horned head was visible on this side. There were a number of stone plinths in niches along both sides of the walls. Ahead was another passageway.

I began to sense the beacon was coming to the end of its life. I needed to retrace my footsteps. As I was about to climb back up the stairs to the dais, I saw a torch beam arcing through the cavern.

It had to be Dylan! I was going to be discovered!

I hastily sat down, using my bottom to extinguish the flame. I felt the denim scorch and pulled the beacon away before it could burn my flesh. I heard it rattle off down the stairs.

I crouched in a state of mounting fear. The beam of light was getting closer, but there were no sounds of a human voice. Yet I was convinced he must have seen my own light source.

He was going to be angry. I didn’t want to face his wrath. Nor another of his destructive moods.

I bum-slid down the stairs, then carefully stood. I felt around the floor, but could not find the beacon. The torch had been broken, so there was no sense in retrieving it. And the beam of light was getting closer still. Soon he would be upon me!

I stumbled forward, trying to use my outstretched arms to guide me through the archway. I must have achieved this, as my shin slammed into one of the plinths in the anteroom beyond. I fell to the floor, rubbing my leg furiously, cursing aloud.

I crawled on all fours, touching each plinth in turn and counting them as I went. There’d been six of them in all on each side. Beyond lay the narrower passageway. By extending my arms full length, I could feel the walls on both sides, so I knew I had negotiated my way into the only possible escape route.

I began to walk, then run along the lengthening corridor. I tripped and fell several times, due to slight rock falls from the ceiling or sides of the structure. The walls were getting slimier with moisture the further I travelled.

I was going deeper into the labyrinth. And I appeared to be descending.

I must have gone a couple of hundred feet before I had to stop. At least, it seemed that far. It may have been much more, or a lot less. I was getting more confused with every step.

I leant against the wall, gasping for breath, clutching at my chest. The air was stale and unventilated, which added to my discomfort.

Then I saw the flicker of light. He’d entered the passageway!

This was enough to spur me into action once more. I tried to quicken my pace. I stumbled, did a half somersault, then stood up again and continued. My knees and the palms of my hands had been grazed. One knee of my jeans had torn and I felt blood oozing down my leg.

I couldn’t let that bother me. He’d soon be on top of me if I didn’t hurry up!

But the passageway went on and on. Then it began to flatten out. I wanted to halt again. My lungs were at bursting point. My ankle was throbbing. But the light was approaching, beginning to illuminate the darkness behind me.

He was gaining on me!

I persevered without let up. Within another ten paces, I stumbled and fell, landing awkwardly. I shook off the fuzziness in my head. I was sprawled out against a flight of spiral stairs. I must have tripped on the first step.

I gathered myself together for one last effort. I crawled on all fours ever upward. On and on and on and on. Was there to be no end to my torture? I’d counted over fifty steps before I rammed into a solid wall. I crumpled against it.

I’d expected there to be a way out. But it was a dead end! I was trapped! Panic gripped me. I began to claw at the masonry. All reason gone.

A light flickered up from below. He was mounting the stairs himself now. Soon he’d catch me! All hell could break loose. I’d abused his trust.

I could sense the beginnings of hyperventilation. I sat back and tried to calm myself, clasping my hands around my mouth in a cup-shape and breathing deeply into it.

I could hear footsteps below. Getting closer.

Then I became aware of fresh air cooling my face. I had to be near the surface! I climbed to my feet once more and felt around the wall. High above my head, my outstretched arms were detecting the source of the air. My fingers passed through a small crack. I pulled down on this, but to no avail. I stood on tiptoe and ran my hands down from the crack.

I sensed I was slipping before I fell backwards. I thought I was going to career back down the stairs. And headfirst at that.

One hand became lodged in a metal structure embedded in the wall. I hung from this one arm. Crying out in pain. Feet dangling over the steps. I fought hard to recover my footing. As I did so, my hand gave way and I sank backwards onto the small landing. Or rather, the metal had moved, suddenly releasing my wrist from its bondage.

There was a tremendous sound of grating masonry, like rotating quernstones in a mill. Rock dust flew into the enclosed space. I looked up, rubbing my eyes, feeling the dust choking my lungs. A slab of masonry above me had fallen down into a concealed slot. Now a window of light was cascading through the open gap.

I pulled myself upwards and crawled through the opening. I collapsed on the other side. I lay on my back, looking up into the sky, breathing hard.

I had come out through the altar in the ruined chapel!

I staggered to my feet, aghast at the state of my clothing. My blouse was torn. My jeans had a hole in the knee, and the right buttock where the beacon had burnt. My trainers wouldn’t see another wearing. My nails were all broken. My hair was filled with dust. I stood up as best I could and brushed myself down.

A head poked through the opening.

I collapsed to the ground once more. Overwrought.

‘That was really cool, Auntie Freya. Can we do it all again!’

I turned to see E-J’s grime-ridden smile framed in the altar.

She checked herself in response to my panic. ‘You OK?’

‘Yes. But you nearly gave me a heart attack!’ I rose to a sitting position again.

She threw me the torch. It was the one I’d left by the trapdoor. Then she clambered out and pulled me to my feet. She looked nearly as dishevelled as I did.

‘What’s your mum going to say about the state of your lovely dress?’

‘I’m more worried about going down there in the first place. She told me not to.’

‘Is she down there, too?’

‘No, she was too chicken.’

‘We better get you back to the Lodge pretty quick. She must be going spare!’ I took her by the hand.

‘Please don’t let Mummy spank me.’

‘I’ll do my best. But I can’t promise.’

I led her away quickly, knowing her inquisitive mind would be riveted by the interior decoration of the chapel. Once outside, she tried to discuss the “naughty monsters”, but I diverted her attention. It was clear she’d never been here before.

I was glad I knew the route back to the safety of the gardens. It would not have been at all clear which way to proceed if I’d come across this haunting place for the first time. E-J was too caught up in the adventure of it all, and what her mother’s reaction might be, to be scared about the surroundings.