CHAPTER EIGHT

In his chamber in the citadel Mortan was consulting with his group of advisors.

“So the system has been tried out. Do you perceive any success in it?” he queried a grey-bearded doctor.

“It will take a few weeks to fully reach a judgment of the operation’s success,” replied Zunan, the chief doctor. “But the initial perception is that the outcome is already very encouraging. We were successful in the operation in remaking the right part of the cortex cerebellum.”

“Good, well done,” answered Mortan. “Now how many operations could you perform in a day?”

“Provided we have managed to train ten assistants correctly we should be able to do about one hundred slaves per diem.”

“That means that within three weeks we should have done the whole of Mersea and can start thinking about the inhabitants of the conquered and to-be-conquered lands,” said Mortan confidently.

“Exactly, O master,” confirmed Zunan, gleefully rubbing his hands.

“Master of the World, nothing less,” stated Mortan apocalyptically. “Now which sector of the town shall we begin with?”

“I think it is best with the north-east quadrant, the one around the former cathedral.”

“Send my elite troops and flush out the area. Take the inhabitants to the Citadel where they may be prepared for the systematization operation.”

“So soon master?” queried Zunan.

“The sooner, the better”, roared Mortan.

***

Wulfstan was browsing through the collection of documents kept at the Assembly Hall. His attention was drawn to one parchment: the prophecies of Athanasius. Wulfstan scoured through the yellowed document and read the following:

“And it shall come to pass that when the relics of the Cross on which our most Holy redeemer died shall be taken by rude hands a great suffering shall cloud the lands by the eastern shore and one day a fool, a perfect fool shall be found by a spotless maiden and taken to the town of the church of the Magdalen. And he and the maiden shall set forth armed with the sword of Christ to bring back that which belongs to the righteous. And through their love they shall succeed and all forces of nature shall come to their aid: both from the land and from the sea. From the land sleeping dragons shall awake and breathe their fire into the faces of those that persecute and kill the mind. And from the sea shall awaken the monster of a thousand tentacles and take all the evil ones in his grip and strangle them into pulp. And peace and happiness shall return to the land which for so long has languished. And the inhabitants shall break their bonds asunder and give praise to the fool and his love and highest of all to the Lord Almighty.”

Wulfstan had, of course, read this passage before. But it gave him hope and confidence, so when he felt doubts creeping into him he went back to the parchment and read it once more. Dunara had absolute confidence in Helen and James: they were merely fulfilling the prophecies – there could be no question that they would succeed and restore the land to its former happiness and prosperity.

***

James was awakened by the howling of the wind whistling through the passageway leading to his chamber. The intermittent sound of heavy rain could be heard on the cobbles and slate roofs of Mersea.

“A gale brought by the eastern current,” confirmed Tamara. “Have you slept well?”

“Wonderfully,” said James and Helen in unison.

“We’ll have breakfast and then you can meet the action group, that is the group of persons dedicated to the overthrow of this terrible regime. Needless to say, they are also the few who have escaped the mutilations Mortan has wrought over so many of our town’s inhabitants,” said Tamara.

And so Helen and James met up with Simon, John and Ashley.

“Mersea is built on a complex system of vaults. It is raised on them to prevent water logging from the marshes. Formerly we all knew their plans, their layouts. But all diagrams have now been confiscated by order of Mortan. And memory cannot be entirely relied on,” explained Ashley.

“We can only surmise there must be a line of vaulting that reaches beneath the tabernacle in which the nails are kept. All the older persons and the priests who knew this passage have been put to the sword, however,” added Simon.

“We’ll find a way there and back,” confidently said Tamara.

At this moment a large tabby tom-cat entered their chamber and stroked his face against Helen’s leg. He seemed to know something and to wish to help the conspirators in their seemingly unresolved predicament. “Why, of course,” started James. “A cat!”

“What about a cat?” questioned John.

“Cats catch mice, mice roam through underground passages. We could take a cat with us. He could find the way.”

“What way, how?”

“Of course, we will have to find the correct route to where the tabernacle is situated, carrying the cat with us. Then, on the way back we would just have to follow him,” explained James.

“Are you really so sure he’ll find the way back?” asked Ashley…

“Of course,” said Helen. “Haven’t you heard of cats finding their way home over hundreds of miles?”?

“Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all,” suggested Ashley. “We need to everything and anything. Come on Alfred (for that was the name of the cat) are you going to help us?”

Alfred lifted up his whiskered face and put one paw on Ashley’s foot.

It seemed a certain feline way of confirming that, indeed, he could help. So all was arranged. Helen and James would set out with Alfred and attempt through the vaulted passes to reach a point directly underneath the tabernacle. Then they would search for some way of getting to the surface. Perhaps there would be a trap-door way out. But even here there was no certainty.

“The vaults in that part are used to hold the bones of the deceased,” explained Tamara. What goes down must come up. Even seals may be broken. Anyway perhaps we should treat this first expedition as a recky, just to find out what the best method is of repossessing the relics.”

Above and around them, the town awoke to its daily grind. Those who still had a tongue left in their mouths began to utter in a weary, hopeless tone. The clanking of chains, the shouting of the task-masters, the wailing of children and babies could all be heard by our party, who held their heads down in sadness and respect for the victims. They had escaped. For how long they knew not. But they had escaped. And now their fate was in the hands of three living beings. Slowly they faced their journey of liberation as another day of oppressive misery in the salt marshes faced the ashen-faced inhabitants of Mersea.