The Priory 1943

[Supercape]

Maurice had set out shedding his military costume. He wore a cap, a tweed jacket, and an old walking stick. After a moments deliberation he had left his service revolver behind. It was but silly superstition, after all. And Captain Carpenter...Oliver...was far more handy with a gun than he was.

The rain and the walk were unpleasant. he had to stop twice to catch his breath.

Sparing a thought for his fellow invalid, Mr Stanley Meadows, Maurice ignores the snort of laughter about sheep. It could be true, of course, but by his estimation such rumours bubbled up unfounded in rural areas; it was a sign that Mr Thomas Jones was a queer chap, or at least queer to the eyes of the rural.

"Mr. Jones? My name is Maurice Grey, ah...resting from the war..." he coughs, to emphasise. "And this is my good friend Captain Oliver Carpenter..."

"I was wondering if you could tell us of the Priory? we have heard queer and unnatural tales, and understand you are the man to speak to...?"

[Mr. Handy]

"Cheers," says Oliver, who has shown up in uniform. "I'll buy you a drink, Mr. Jones. What are you having? By the way, my uncle Stephen Daniels may have been around here years ago, and I was wondering if you'd met him or heard of him."

[Priest]

At the greeting, the wax coated figure, identified as Thomas Jones, turns and peers at you both. From the thick lensed glasses to the way he blinks as if to clear his vision it is obvious that seeing is not his forte.

“Priory? What Priory?” for several moments his face is a riot of expression mostly dominated by confusion, then recognition dawns as Oliver mentions the name Daniels.

“Oh you mean the old Priory up at Exham…Aint there any more, rebuilt and demolished some twenty years ago” He raises his almost empty pint glass to his lips and takes a swallow, all the time observing you both with a queer smile.

“Daniels? I knew a Stephen Daniels, something to do with the Church. But that was long ago too.”
He finishes his beer and looks expectantly, “Mines a pint of mild. And in exchange I’ll tell you a tale of madness, horror and death”

[Supercape]

"I like a good tale" replies Maurice, shelling out coin. He has a slight inward sigh. He was from a lower middle class family, and his profession did not pay well, especially in wartime. His wallet feels light.

"Please, drink up, and spare no details. By my estimation, Captain Carpenter and I have seen enough war horror to steel our nerves for any unpleasantness"

[Priest]

Jones gesture towards a circular table in the window, still close enough to the fire to benefit from its heat.

“So you want to know about the Priory at Exham do you? It’s been a long time since anyone showed any interest in that place. Thought it long forgotten and properly so too.” He lifts the pint of mild and savours a little, then sighs as if ready to begin a long story.

“It was twenty years ago in August when it happened, me and a few others were rounded up to help find the Yank and his friends after they had disappeared somewhere below the Priory. We searched but it were the others what found the Yank and the captain”

He picked up the glass again and drank slowly, “I remember like it was yesterday the ravings of the Yank, de la Poer, as they dragged him to the waiting paddy wagon. Speaking strange thing he were, quite mad you know and they said how he had to be pulled away from the partially eaten body of Captain Norrys.”

For a moment his eyes darken as if remembering, “They spoke of terrible things down there below the Priory. Of ancient horrors best left undisturbed, of torn and eaten bodies, and strange half-human creatures” he shakes his head as if awakening from a dream.

In the course of his remembering he names the members of the party that had accompanied de la Poer on that fateful evening. Captain Norry’s, a retired soldier and member of the family that had owned the land prior to de la Poer’s purchase, two experts from Oxford Brinton and Trask, an estate worker named Thornton who fancied himself as some kind of ghost hunter, a Moreton also from the houses staff, and Daniels a Churchman who came to help.

He also tells of the subsequent demolition of the Priory and the destruction and following erasing of the site. He considered it at the time a strange thing to do, and was even more surprised when a group of experts was brought in a few days after the destruction to ‘salt’ the ground, at least he thinks that’s how they referred to the strange goings on that they carried out up on the hill.

He finishes by pointing out that, “The cursed hill is best forgotten and left alone, that’s what I told that Brinton fellow when he came sniffing around a few months later. Must have taken my advice as I never saw him again”. He points at the brooding bulk of Exham hill, visible even through the rain and the darkness some three miles from the town, “If not for that Jerrie plane, it would have remained forgotten, just a page in some book of local ghost tales alongside that of the Trevor* woman. But soon the place will be crawling with ‘experts’ eager to continue where de la Poer left off.”

He picks up the glass and finishes the drink in one go, then with excess liquid trickling from the corners of his mouth, his eyes glaze over,

“I still remember the words of de la Poer as they drove him away. Dhonas’ dholas ort, agus-leat sa!. this was followed by some other unintelligible gibberish, and finally as the van door swung shut. Rats, it was the rats I tell you. The Yankees ate Carfax and the rats ate Norrys!!!”

Story finished the small bar room lapses into a sullen silence, disturbed only by the crackle of the fire, the drumming of the rain on the window, and the steady tick of a clock near the door…

[Supercape]

Maurice lets the silence fall over them like a cold wet blanket. It would not do to disturb it until it had laid upon them.

The clock ticking. He feels every beat acutely.

"The rats" he murmurs. He was not unfamiliar with the vermin. They fed on war.

"Mr. Jones, I thank you for your story, and confess it is an unsettling one. But it grabs me! And now I hear it, I do not think I can forget it, nor ignore it!"

Especially, he thinks, with all the stories floating around the locals at the moment. The rats. The scratchings.

"Perhaps we should take up some amateur vermin extermination, Sir..Captain...I mean Oliver..."

[Mr. Handy]

"Yes, perhaps we shall," says Oliver, deep in thought. As always, his mind turns to military matters. "What Jerry plane was this? When did they bomb Exham? It must have been some time ago, as they'd sent almost the entire Luftwaffe east to use against the Russians back in '41. There have been some air raids since then, but they wouldn't go this far inland when there are juicier targets much closer to the shore."

[Priest]

Jones glances at Oliver, not sure if he was speaking to him but all the same, "I've no idea. Local paper reckoned that the Jerry plane had been after some target near Birmingham and had chucked out the bomb to gain speed to avoid our fighters. It were coincidence that it hit the hill. Just ill luck I guess. Anyway if your uncle was the same Stephen Daniels who had been here in '23 maybe he would be able to tell you more about what happened at the Priory"

He turns and looks towards Maurice, his eyes behind their prescription lenses growing in size with a dawning look of horror, "Don't you be going up on the hill, sir. There are some things best left alone, and whatever secrets lie hidden beneath that hill" he gestures at the looming bulk of Exham Hill, "Are best left alone. They say that whatever de la Poer found down there destroyed his mind, and makes certain that he will never walk amongst sane folk again. Just as well really for if they thought him sane then he would surely hang for what he did to Norrys that August"

[Mr. Handy]

"Thank you," says Oliver. "You're right, I'll need to talk to my uncle to find out more. Do you know where I can place a trunk call?"

[Priest]

Mr Handy,You have had no contact with your uncle, at least none you can remember. However your mother is most likely to have an address for him.

Stanley, the barman, who like others in the room have fallen silent during Thamas' recounting of the affair at Exham hill, looks up from wiping a beer mug at Oliver's question, "We have a telephone here which you can use or there is one at the post office if you can wait untill Mrs Williams opens in the morning?" he nods towards the far end of the bar where the familiar black shape of a telephone can be seen.

Just then the clock chimes 8pm and as if that chime had broken some kind of spell, normality seems to return to the 'Plume of Feathers'. Thomas Jones stands, stretches noisily and pulls his cap onto his head, "Well gents, thanks for the drink. If that's all I'll be away, work in the morning"

He pauses for a few moments, just staring into space, "Dhonas’ dholas ort, agus-leat sa! he said as they closed the van door. Dhonas’ dholas ort, agus-leat sa! whatever that means?" Then obviously returned from where he had momentarilly been he walks towards the door to the bar, "Just stay away from that damned hill, no good will come of messing about up there"

As Thomas leaves Stanley smiles, "Don't pay hm too much mind, been out too long in the sun if you ask me..."

[Mr. Handy]

"I'm not sure where my uncle is at the moment, but my mum would know," says Oliver. "She's in the Women's Land Army, out in the countryside, but she'll have a telephone where she's billeted. She gets up very early in the morning to work, milking the cows and such, so this is probably the best time to reach her. It's evening, so she'll be done work for the day, and it's not too late to call yet." He goes over to the phone and places the call to his mother.

[Priest]

Oliver goes to the phone and begins the process of contacting his mother. After an hour, the phone rings and you are informed that there is a trunk call for Captain Oliver Carter.

Oliver,Your mother is obviously disquitened by your enquiries about uncle Stephen, you can teel from her voice and the way she seems to answer each question slowly and precisely. In the course of the conversation she tells you that her brother, your uncle, Stephen had spent most of your life working as a missionary in some unpronouncable place in Africa, and that is why the two of you had never met. Anchester? Why yes she recalls that Stephen had mentioned the town briefly, but she cannot recall what it was in connection with. Stephen, had unfortunately passed away last year. She and your father had attended his funeral but as you had been on a posting, they had decided not to bother you with the details. His belongings, the little that he had, had been left with them and now were stored in the attic.

As Oliver speaks in muted tones, Maurice can't help but peer through the window into the deepening darkness at the slowly disappearing bulk of Exham Hill. He feels a disquitening pull towards it, despite the lurid tales of the shepherd.

[Mr. Handy]

After he's done on the phone, Oliver returns to Maurice. "My uncle passed last year," he says, "so we can't exactly ask him anything. However, his belongings are stored in my parents' attic. Perhaps he kept a diary."

[Supercape]

"Very well then!" said Maurice, keener than ever to unravel the mystery.

"Sir..I mean Oliver...I confess my heart and soul are aching for action, even if my flesh is ruined" he said, ashamed of his invalidity. "I think this is just the rehabilitation I need. Although if your parent's attic is dusty, I may have to give more spiritual than practical support in the rummaging..." he added, coughing once more.

"You may just have saved me twice. Let us proceed!"

[Mr. Handy]

"Glad I could help, Maurice," says Oliver with a grin. "I know what you mean. I can't stay away from action either. After I was wounded dropping into North Africa, I couldn't wait to get healed up and get back out there! If I'd had to stay in hospital any longer, I'd have gone spare! First thing in the morning, we'll head over to my folks' place and see what we can find."

[Supercape]

"I fear I won't be seeing the front line again. Some wounds don't heal" replied Maurice dejectedly, his lungs wheezing.

"But, there is some steel in me yet. I may not march across Europe, but I can certainly take a walk to your parents with you. As long as we are in no rush!"

[Mr. Handy]

"Good to hear," says Oliver. "We'll take our time, then. There may not be a cure for what ails you, but I'll do what I can to help."