"I think it'll just have to be trial and error," he said.
They each pushed the sharp edge of a pickaxe into the turf immediately adjoining the edge of the stone, working it downwards, then pulling back on the handle to try and gain purchase underneath the slab itself. As they applied leverage, the stone began to give, and they heard the earthy sound of soil and turf starting to separate.
"It's working!" shouted Matthew. The slab was lifting, albeit reluctantly.
They heaved and strained, through gritted teeth. It wasn't just a little heavy; it was seriously weighty. As the angle of the stone increased, beads of sweat fell from their foreheads. Charles thought he was going to faint.
"Keep going!" Matthew yelled.
Charles shut his eyes and summoned all his strength.
"We'll do a big pull on three!"
With the sinews in his neck clearly outlined, Charles managed the smallest of nods to show that he understood.
"One!.. Two!.. THREEEEE!!"
They both let out a roar, and pulled on their pickaxe handles with every ounce of effort they could muster. The stone slab reached the vertical, teetered for a moment, then fell over completely, landing on a mound of tangled branches. There was the sound of dry wood snapping as the stone came to rest, but neither Charles nor Matthew noticed. They stood transfixed, their attention held by the narrow flight of stone steps descending into the ground. Scarcely able to contain himself, Charles spoke a line from the poem, 'Here doth the little night owl make her home'. At the same moment, he pointed down at the first step. There, clearly engraved in the surface, was the carving of an owl.
Chapter 18
The stairs were extremely narrow. Matthew led the way down but had to turn almost sideways to avoid brushing against the sides of the passageway. Where the steps ended there was an arched opening with a tunnel disappearing into the gloom and it was immediately apparent that they would need to fetch a torch. Charles went running back to the house but when he returned a few minutes later Matthew was nowhere to be seen.
"Matthew?" he called. He began to descend the steps and shouted into the darkness, "Matthew?"
There was the sound of some coughing and spluttering, and Matthew emerged from the dark tunnel, brushing brick dust from his clothes.
"I was too excited to wait for you," he grinned, "so I thought I'd explore the tunnel on my own."
"Did you find anything?"
"No, it's too dark. Once you get inside, after a short distance the passageway turns a corner and there appears to be something blocking the way, but I couldn't tell what it was without the torch."
"Well, now we have the torch so let's take a look."
They began their descent and eased their way somewhat gingerly into the tunnel. As Matthew had said, the passageway soon turned a sharp right and then as Matthew shone the torch they realised that blocking their way was a closed wooden door. Matthew passed the torch back to Charles who, in the confined space, had to duck and weave to keep it trained on the door since Matthew was occupying the whole width of the narrow passage. Matthew turned the knob and pushed. It remained closed but it felt jammed rather than locked.
"I think that perhaps the door has absorbed moisture and expanded," said Matthew.
He pushed again, and then put his shoulder to it. At last, after several attempts with an increasing amount of brute force each time, the door finally admitted defeat and opened reluctantly with much creaking and the sound of wood scraping and splintering against the stone floor.
Moving slowly and cautiously, Matthew and Charles stepped inside. They were met with a blast of cold, salty air and became aware that the sound of the sea could once again be heard, somehow echoing from somewhere within the dark cavern.
Charles had been right; this was, indeed, a crypt.
Fortunately, as the beam of light from the torch swung left and right they discovered a dangling string which, when it was pulled, switched on a couple of rather dim light bulbs. As they looked about them, with everything bathed in this somewhat surreal glow, it became clear that this was quite a large underground chamber with a variety of passages leading from it. One, in particular, was the source of an icy draught and, to judge from the distant crashing sound which came from it, possibly led straight to the sea. Long years ago, numerous alcoves had been built into the walls and each now contained a coffin. Some of these were obviously very old indeed.
Despite the noise of the waves in the distance the place possessed a certain stillness, but the feeling of decay was unmistakable, and those areas which had once displayed some handsome blue paintwork were now, little by little, flaking and crumbling away as the ravages of time took their toll.
"the blue cavern of an echoing deep," said Matthew, quietly. "Surely we must be very close to journey's end now."
As they had been moving around the crypt, Charles had noticed that some of the brickwork displayed elaborate carvings. In particular, each alcove had an animal engraved immediately above it. This one was a tiger; over there was a fish of some sort; and that one was an eagle, among numerous others.
"It would appear that we're supposed to become grave robbers," he said.
"You're surely not telling me we should be opening all these coffins," Matthew answered.
"Not all of them, no; just this one." He pointed to the alcove at the end of the crypt.
"Why that one, especially?"
Charles pointed to the animal which was carved into the apex of the arch above it, and said "the slight lizard show his jewelled head."
Sure enough, the stone-carved creature was definitely a lizard, but both Charles and Matthew hesitated as they stood staring into the alcove and down at the coffin lid.
"Are we really going to do this?" Charles asked.
"If the sapphire really is inside that box we don't have any choice."
"But it might not be; like you said before, there might be just another roll of film waiting for us."
"That still doesn't give us any choice."
"True."
They knew they were going to break open the coffin. But still they hesitated.
"I can't believe that we're really contemplating this; it's like a scene from a Dracula movie."
"Do you think the lid will be nailed down?"
"Who knows? Only one way to find out."
A further hesitation.
"Let's not forget that there is a time limit to this whole ridiculous business," said Matthew, which was as much to increase his own fortitude as it was to encourage Charles to take action.
They each took a deep breath and, without another word, they took up positions at opposite sides of the alcove. Reaching inside, they carefully manoeuvred the heavy coffin towards the edge, inch by painstaking inch. Then, grasping one of the old brass handles fastened to each end, they gently lowered the casket to the floor. They then crouched and placed their fingers beneath the wooden rim which ran round the edge of the coffin. They looked at each other from their respective ends, hesitated for just one moment longer, summoned all their nerve, then nodded and suddenly stood up, bringing the coffin lid with them. Steeling themselves for a putrid stench and the sight of decaying flesh they lifted the lid and moved it sideways — and all but dropped it on the floor in surprise.
The coffin was completely empty.
Empty, that is, except for a small pouch made from thin black fabric laying serenely in the centre. Matthew immediately grabbed it and looked inside. Letting out a hopeful yelp he put his hand into the small bag and pulled out a small velvet-covered box. Charles stepped closer as Matthew slowly opened the lid.