The Grail Murders

'Nothing at all.'
    'Then,' Mandeville leaned towards Southgate, 'my colleague here who is an expert in secret writing, codes and ciphers, will take this to another table and study it carefully.'
    I looked at Southgate in mock surprise. 'You can read!' I exclaimed. 'You can truly read?' Well, that got the bastard really enraged.
    'I studied at Oriel!' he snapped. 'Theology, Philosophy, Logic and Mathematics!'
    'Then I beg your pardon, sir.' I slapped my own wrist. 'It just goes to show you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, eh?'
    Southgate picked up the manuscript and stalked away. Mandeville glared at me whilst Eadred and Benjamin seemed preoccupied with their fingers.
    'This is no laughing matter, Shallot,' Sir Edmund declared. 'Brother Eadred, on your allegiance to the King, do you know the meaning of Hopkins's riddle?' 'Before God, Sir Edmund, I do not!'
    'Is there anything in this abbey that has even the vaguest reference to Jordan's water or the Ark of Moses?'
    Eadred smoothed the table top with his fingers. 'The Jordan is a river in Palestine,' he replied. 'What in God's name, Sir Edmund, would that have to do with an abbey in Somerset? And as for the Ark of Moses, this was the sacred chest fashioned at the foot of Mount Sinai to contain the sacred tablets of stone. Where on earth would that be?' Sir Edmund was not easily put off.
    'Yet you have a rose bush,' he retorted. 'Which, you claim, was planted by Joseph of Arimathea. Don't play games with me, dear monk. Your abbey proudly proclaims that this Joseph of Arimathea came here, bringing the Grail with him. According to the book of legends you have just shown us, Arthur came here to drink from the Grail, whilst one of his knights, Sir Bedivere, reputedly took Excalibur down to Narepool which is only three miles from Glastonbury. This is still owned by the abbey and, according to the annual accounts you submit to the exchequer, provides 5,000 eels a year for your kitchen.'
    Sir Edmund half-raised himself from his seat and pointed a finger straight at the monk's face. 'Before God, sir,' he threatened hoarsely. 'If I find even the vaguest reference to an Ark or to Jordan's water in this abbey or any place in your possession, I shall see you stand trial at King's Bench in London on a charge of high treason!'
    Then, Sir Edmund,' Eadred replied coolly, 'discover such evidence.' Mandeville shoved back his chair and walked to the door.
    'I shall inspect this abbey myself!' he shouted over his shoulder. 'Southgate, when you have finished with that manuscript, look around carefully.' He left, slamming the door behind him. Eadred seemed unmoved by Mandeville's threats.
    'Perhaps we should go,' he whispered, glancing sidelong at Southgate who sat poring over the book. 'Sir Edmund does not believe me, yet he'll find nothing in this abbey or elsewhere.' We left the library, went round the north part of the church and into the abbey church through the Lady Chapel, now covered in sheets and dust.
    'Abbot Bere,' Eadred explained, 'is now digging a crypt. This will run under the Lady Chapel and Galilee porch.'
    He pulled the sheets aside and led us down some steps. The crypt was a high vaulted room, the roof being supported by thin ribs of stone which spread out from the centre, giving the impression of a bursting star. The crypt was not yet finished and, strangely enough, was the only place in that entire abbey where Eadred seemed rather nervous and unwilling to linger. We then returned to the Galilee porch, past another small chapel and into the great white-stoned nave. We examined the north and south transepts, went under the ornate rood screen and into the sanctuary beneath which lay Arthur's tomb.
    'Is there any way,' Benjamin asked, 'that the tomb can be reached?'
    Eadred shook his head. 'Of course not. The coffin is sealed in a great vault below. Only the Holy Father can give permission for such a tomb to be opened.' Eadred spread his hands. 'And why should it be opened? The Grail and Excalibur were seen centuries after Arthur's death and the monks who reinterred his body here would scarcely bury such sacred relics.'
    We agreed and continued our tour out of the church, following the snow-covered, pebbled paths past the Chapter House, dormitory, rear dorter, monks' kitchen, into the abbot's garden; the latter was enclosed by a high brick wall and carpeted by snow but in the summer must have been beautiful. My eyes, however, were continuously drawn to the great Tor