Treasure at the Abbey

Treasure at the Abbey

Oswald had scaled half way up the tower before he saw the monk in the window. He could spy only a corner of the tonsured head, as the space was mostly filled with a steaming cauldron. This would not normally concern Oswald except that he was, in fact, dangling 30 feet up a stone wall, directly below the window in question.

“God’s blood” he swore, and tried to find a foothold that would help him slide out of range of whatever filled the cauldron. While he had never had the pleasure of being doused with pitch or boiling oil, he believed any sufficiently hot substance would be detrimental to his health at this point.

When he had started to climb the tower, it had seemed like the obvious solution. The monk he was chasing had wisely run into the tall conical tower at the corner of the garden, pulling the only ladder up to the 10 ft high door behind him. Now the door was barred, and only a small window remained. This was an aggravatingly clever strategy to keep the monks and their valuables safe from marauding bandits and ne’r-do-wells.

Unfortunately for the monk, Oswald was not a run-of-the-mill thief but a member of the elite Queen’s Men.

******

“Captain, is there no one else you can send? Send Xavier,” Oswald gestured to the fastidious secretary, “He’s not going to enjoy any of the celebrations this week. He can awkwardly nurse a drink in the corner of any social event, it doesn’t need to be the Queen’s Easter Banquet.”

Xavier looked up from his desk in the corner, “I resent that, Oswald, and I am making a note of it for the next time I adjust the latrine cleaning schedule.”

“You know I always trade latrine duty off to gullible new recruits.” Oswald smirked.

“You don’t need to understand my reasoning,” The Captain ignored the interruption, “you just need to follow orders. The Abbot and his associates are all here as honoured guests, leaving the Abbey practically empty. There is something extremely valuable that you need to find and bring to the safehouse in Coalford. Open the vault and the rest will become clear.”

“I feel like Wilfred would be much better suited to this job, along with Xavier here.” Oswald argued.

“Excellent idea. You and Wilfred do make an exceptional team. Xavier, do inform him I wish to speak to him as well,” the Captain crossed his arms, a sure sign that there would be no further arguments.

******

Oswald shuffled sideways, away from the window. Being cooked alive while falling to his death was going to be a ridiculous end to a disappointing week. And to think he could be enjoying the fine cooking of Mistress Coldwald, followed later in the night by her even finer bed.

Suddenly Oswald heard a whoosh and something flew past his head from below. He watched a metal grappling hook fly up and grab the edge of the cauldron. He scrabbled sideways, suddenly inspired to find handholds he had not even considered before.

“Avast! Hold tight!” called a voice from below, and the cauldron went flying past him, sloshing boiling, soapy laundry as it went.

“Wilfred! You finally caught up!”

“You left me to knock out the other four by myself,” called his fellow Queen’s Man from below, “What is your plan, precisely?.

Oswald continued to climb. “Same as always. Strike fast until you arrive to strike hard.”

The tonsured head disappeared.

“Well you’d better climb like the devil if you want to strike at all, my boy.”

Oswald heartily agreed and wasted no time scaling to the window. The compact fighter pulled himself up onto the sill and squeezed through the narrow window. A moment later, his feet landed softly on the floor of the tower. He was in a simple round room that contained a bench, a table, and a tidy shelf with cooking supplies by the hearth. Off to one side was a door, leading to the stairs that wound around the tower. He was about to dart through the door, when he noticed a hook next to the fireplace. An empty hook.

“Right then, here we go.” he muttered, unsheathing his cutlass as he stepped through the door.

Clang! Oswald caught the heavy ladle on his sword, twisting his wrist so that it flew out of the monk’s grasp. Crack. His offhand uppercut knocked the sleight monk off his feet. He attempted to grab the monk. To his surprise, the small man rolled sideways and swept his foot around to trip Oswald, knocking his sword from his hand and up the staircase.

Oswald barely stayed on his feet. The monk sprang up and tried to push the off center fighter into the wall. Oswald steadied himself against the wall and swung a hook at the man, who ducked quickly out of the way and landed an elbow in Oswald’s ribs. He pushed off the elbow to launch himself down the staircase.

After a stunned moment, Oswald was thrilled - there was a chance he might actually lose this fight! He pushed off the wall and gave chase. The two spun, dodged and parried their way down the staircase.

Finally, a full turn later, Oswald felt something knock against his foot. The ladle! He swept it up with his boot, dodged a punch, grasped the large metal scoop and landed a solid shot to the man’s tonsured head. He let out a relieved chuckle as his incredibly fast opponent crumpled to the ground.

“Having all the fun without me again?” complained Wilfred, 5 minutes later when Oswald opened the door to the tower with the unconscious, restrained monk thrown over his shoulder.

“Nonsense, I left all the ransacking for you. Get up here and help me find the key to that damned vault.” Oswald slid the ladder out the door with his foot, trusting his friend to grab it and climb up.

******

Two hours later, the exasperated Queen’s Men were only slightly closer to their objective. After a thorough search of the desks, the small kitchen and the storeroom that comprised the tower, they had finally found a strangely shaped key in the monk’s pocket. This was a relief, as it meant they did not have to turn the entire Abbey upside down - a monumental task neither man had been excited about. While the key fit into the complex lock, no amount of pressure would make it turn.

The two soldiers stared at each other across the room, sharing their unspoken frustration. After 5 years training and working together, they did not need words to know what the other was thinking. Oswald and Wilfred had always been an effective team, despite the almost comical contrast between them in their matching breastplates, cloaks and boots. Oswald was a small, compact man with fine features and dark hair and eyes while Wilfred was a full foot taller, and much broader than his companion. Wilfred’s unruly red hair and hazel eyes made him stand out, but allowed him to easily intimidate most citizens - everyone knew his pallid complexion and fiery hair marked him as unholy.

Unfortunately, their current victim did not seem at all worried. The fact that Wilfred had bandaged the monk’s head before questioning was not helping their questioning. Either the monk did not know the trick to opening the vault, or he was simply not afraid of the two seasoned warriors.

“Father, Son, Holy Ghost.” the monk repeated urgently, trying to do the sign of the cross with his bound hands. This was all he would (could?) say in his heavily accented Common.

“Why was he the only monk not at prayers?” Wilfred asked for the thousandth time, pacing around the chamber. “And what is he doing here in the first place?”

Oswald leaned against the wall examining the fellow. The slight man had an unfamiliar look about him - similar to some of the slaves from the Crusades, but with features that were wider and flatter. He had heard sailors and merchants describe men that looked similar when they spoke of silk, magical powders and strange inventions. The sleight man spoke little English, but he was obviously a skilled fighter, and he looked at Oswald with the sharp eyes of a scholar.

“Let’s think. One - the rest of the monastery are all away, celebrating Easter at the King’s invitation.” Oswald began.

“Two - the Captain did not send us to the monastery until the Abbot arrived in the Capital with his entourage. Then he suddenly insisted we come here, open the vault, and find a treasure. Which we can not seem to do.” Wilfred added.

“Three - we found nothing but this useless key on his person. It fits the lock but does not open. The Captain said it would become clear when we opened the vault.”

“Four - he is a foreigner and clearly not a Christian.” Wilfred stopped in front of the monk, getting right in his face as he continued, “He can’t even do the sign of the cross correctly.” He demonstrated the correct hand signals pointedly.

“No - no - no!” the monk shook his head, gesturing wildly to the useless key standing in the lock and repeating the hand signals he had used before, but more slowly. “Father.”

It suddenly occurred to Oswald that perhaps the monk was answering their question. He approached the lock, and noticed that there seemed to be a channel carved out below the keyhole. “Father?” he asked the monk, pointing to the key.

The monk nodded. “Son.” the monk said, gesturing downwards.

Oswald shrugged. It seemed improbable, but why not? He tried pushing the key downwards. An entire panel slid down neatly from behind the lock, revealing a shorter channel - this one facing sideways. The monk laughed, delighted that they had found the trick. Oswald pushed the key sideways and nothing happened.

He looked over at the unusual man, who made an arching motion with his hand. Wilfred had been incorrect. The monk knew exactly what he was doing. “Holy ghost?” Oswald asked. The monk nodded.

Oswald pivoted the entire key towards the carved channel. A mechanism slid ninety degrees. Click. The end of the key remained outside of the channel. With a slight turn the lock opened. Oswald turned to the monk, mouth agape with astonishment.

The monk laughed with the delight of someone that has finally shown off a particularly fine trick. It was clear he was the designer.

*****

A thorough investigation of the locked room proved anti-climactic. The vault had nothing of value. Birth records, saint’s bones, fancy ink, and less gold than the Queen spent on a single party.

“What could the Captain possibly want? I am sure this is all terribly important to the Abbot, but there is nothing extremely valuable. And certainly nothing that we need to secret to a safehouse.” Oswald complained.

“Hmm . . . it is a bit of a puzzle. What were his exact words?” Wilfred asked.

“Go to the Abbey . . . something extremely valuable . . . open the vault and the rest will become clear. Ah! He never said it was something in the vault.”

“Zounds!” Wilfred grabbed Oswald by the shoulders, “I believe what he wants is the lockmaker! This man has deadly fighting abilities and a keen mind. Why is he hiding away in a monastery? Why is he in Kingsland at all? He is the most valuable thing here.”

The two soldiers turned together to look at the monk. He returned their look quizzically.

“Sorry, old boy. It seems we must kidnap you.” Oswald shrugged, then grinned at Wilfred, “Though I think it wouldn’t hurt to bring that gold as well, should the road be long and dry.”