Herv clicked his fingers. ‘I have it,’ he said. ‘I know. Yes, but the water from the spring has been pushed underground and over the years it makes the land unstable.’
‘Precisely. Here on B – the second oldest map – this is not Spring Cottage because it has collapsed or been pulled down. The house has been rebuilt nearer to the village sometime after map A was drawn.’ She tapped the top right of maps B, C and D where the small square sat on the lip of the wood. ‘This is Emelie’s Cottage. And it’s been put there because it links to the manor house via a tunnel. It’s no longer needed to smuggle priests out into the woods, but it is rather handy if the Lord wanted to secretly visit a mistress that he’s ensconced there.’
‘There’s a tunnel?’ Herv asked.
‘I’ll show you where it is later,’ replied Marnie, resolute on keeping her thoughts on track. ‘Emelie presumed the water was running down the hillside and collecting there, and it does, but that’s not what caused all the damp she’s been getting. The water was coming up from underneath. It’s the spring. It hasn’t been able to drain into the well so over the years it’s got closer and closer to the village and then it found Emelie’s cellar.’
‘She said she didn’t have a cellar.’
Marnie gave a little laugh. Emelie hadn’t wanted anyone snooping down the stairs, that’s why she had lied.
‘We’ve all been thrown off the scent because of that story that Margaret was at the other end of Wychwell. For hundreds of years, we’ve been looking in the wrong place,’ said Marnie, all too aware she’d said we. As if she was as much part of the village as the green, Blackett Stream and the wood.
Marnie pressed her fingertip into map A again, right on the house that was no longer there and felt a tremor of excitement ripple through her like an electric eel. ‘Margaret Kytson is somewhere here, I know it. Have you got a spare shovel, Herv?’
Herv rang Johnny Oldroyd for an extra pair of hands and some tools. Johnny turned up with those and Lionel, the Mumfords, the Rootwoods, Derek, David and Pammy Parselow with theirs. Marnie was ankle-deep in mud when they arrived. Another pair of her trainers were absolutely ruined, but she didn’t care.
‘Where are you, Margaret?’ she said to the claggy ground. ‘We know you’re here somewhere.’
Zoe and Cilla turned up carrying two wide planks of wood so that Griff could ride over some of the mud in his wheelchair.
‘Watch out,’ David grinned, ‘foreman’s here.’
‘Just shut up and get your back into it, you,’ Griff returned.
‘We can’t dig up the whole wood,’ said Roger, surveying the expanse with dismay.
‘We won’t have to, Roger. She’s here,’ said Marnie, hoping she was right otherwise the estate was going to have to cough up for some chiropractor sessions.
‘Look for trees that are narrower in the trunk. They’ll be younger,’ Griff suggested.
‘This is a thin one,’ Zoe called. ‘In fact, there’s a few over here.’
‘It’s as good a place to start as any,’ said Herv, striding towards her in his monster-sized wellies.
Dr and Mrs Court arrived with a bag full of small bottles of pop. Then Ruby and Kay arrived with a spade and a fork and joined in. No one expected Una Price to turn up, but she did. Last, of course, and she hadn’t brought any tools with her, and she stood watching with Griff, arms folded, but she was there. Only Titus was significant by his absence.
The more they dug down, the more water-clogged the mud became and collapsed immediately back onto itself. Some made more impact on the ground than others, none more than Herv. He dug like a machine, and in second place was the string-thin Johnny who had a deceptive amount of strength, and plenty of youth on his side.
‘You be careful with your back, Derek Price,’ Una yelled at him.
Derek looked pleasurably shocked by her concern. ‘I will, Una. I will.’
‘Don’t overdo it, Dr Court,’ Marnie warned him, as he stretched an ache out of his shoulders.
‘I won’t, but I don’t want to miss the find,’ he beamed.
Ruby squealed as she hit something solid, but disappointingly it turned out to be only a large rock.
‘I’ve got to have a sit down for a bit,’ said Una, waddling over to the fallen tree that Emelie had rested on, when she and Marnie went picking strawberries. She was steps away from it when she disappeared into the ground with a screech that owls everywhere would have envied. It was as if a trapdoor had opened beneath her.
Those who could rushed over. Lionel was nearest.
‘Una, are you all right?’ The hole was at least four foot deep.
‘My bloody ankle,’ she winced.
‘Take our hands, Una, we’ll pull you up,’ said Herv. He and Lionel carefully hoisted her out.
‘Chuffing sinkhole,’ she said, putting her bare foot down on the mud. ‘And I’ve lost my shoe.’
‘It’s a well,’ shrieked Johnny, staring into the hole that Una had so recently vacated. ‘It’s a round well.’
‘Oh my lord,’ said Lionel. ‘Here, dig here.’
Una hopped to the tree trunk and sat down to rub her ankle. With renewed vigour, the diggers plunged their spades and forks into the ground around the newly found hole, loosening the stones where they could. Herv reached down, tearing up huge rocks that had been placed there to press down the soil. There was a feeling of great excitement thrumming through the air now, like an engine of anticipation building up steam because this had to be the well – Margaret’s well. Herv scooped out more rocks, Lionel and Johnny threw down their spades and followed his lead.
‘There’s something else here,’ said Herv. ‘It feels like metal, not rock.’ It was lodged under more stones and he was having difficulty getting a purchase on it. Then his fingers managed to grip it and he gave one almighty heave. He handed it to Lionel who took it from him reverently and turned it around in his hands, wiping the mud off it with his jumper sleeve.
‘What is it, Vicar? Treasure?’ Johnny’s eyes were wide with fascination.
‘A chalice,’ replied Lionel.
‘There’s more,’ said Herv, tugging hard and then handing over a tarnished metal cross.
‘Oh my,’ gasped Lionel. ‘Church artefacts. If they’ve been down there as long as Margaret, these must be things stolen from churches and monasteries when they were destroyed in Henry the Eighth’s rule. We’ll have to declare it to the authorities of course.’
‘Will we buggery,’ said Griff. ‘It’s on our land so it’s ours.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Kay.
‘I think you’ll find it’s on Marnie’s land,’ said Derek, and all eyes turned to her. She felt herself colouring under the splatters of mud which had taken over most of her face.
‘I’ll have to check,’ she said. Not the answer some of them wanted, but she would do things properly, they knew.
‘They’re here.’
Attention shifted to Herv who had found something else in the well. Something far more valuable to the village. A human skull.
*
They had to leave the digging there, once there was evidence of a body. Ancient or not, Marnie knew they’d have to phone the police, because she’d found it out from the internet in case it ever happened. If they decided these were ‘bones of antiquity’ then it would be a matter for the county archaeologist. ‘If that turns out to be a sheep, I’ll bleeding murder someone,’ said David, looking down into the hole at the partly unearthed skull.