I had read almost to the end of old Godfrey's record, and paused for a
cigarette. I had written so much that my hand was tired; but it was
certainly a highly interesting story, and threw a new light upon
Lucrezia Borgia and her crimes, as well as presenting us with a secret
chapter of the history of the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry
VIII. From an antiquarian point of view the record was, therefore, a
most valuable find.
Eager to learn the whole I flung away my cigarette when only half
consumed, and again turned to, penning each word as I puzzled it out,
and as I now copy it out for you:
"Wyth a sum of gold did I bribe a fisherman to take us in his boat to
Maryport, in England, where the wrath of Kyng James could not reache us.
In company we travelled to York, where I left Malcolm and his neice
with their kinsmen who lived close by the city, and continued my way to
London, filled with regret that I had been competed to leave my treasure
in hiding on account of a false suspicion against me, and yet not daring
to return to Treyf, now that it was in possession of the hateful king's
men. What towardness or intowardness I saw while at that castle on the
Dee I need not inform you, or what adventures occurred to me in London,
except to say that I soon became seized by a desire to return to Italy,
the which I did, journeying to Florence, and there reassumynge the
religious habyt and enteringe the monastery of Certosa, and am now
ending my dayes within the cloister there.
"Please it you to understand, my reader, that on enteringe this
monastery aforesaid I became so troubled with the past that I have
penned in brief, this ninth day of February, 1542, all that happened to
me, in order to leave on recorde the fiendish crimes of the Borgia; to
show how my Lady Lucrezia was but the unwilling agent of His Holiness
and the Duke Cesare; to affirm that my connection wyth the secret
envenoming was in my poor lady's interests and for her protection; and,
lastly, to leave on record the exact place within Treyf's grim walls
where lie concealed my lady's jewels, together with the secret phials,
the small casket that contains emeralds, the worth of which be
sufficient to found the fortune of a great house. As touching the
family of Borgia, the evil they have done is herein written in this
Closed Book, just as it is written in the solemn booke above the which
no man can observe.
"A curse resteth upon all the Borgia, save my lady Lucrezia, so also
there resteth a curse upon him who shall attempt to take my lady's
jewells for his own uses. Already the knowledge gained by you from my
record must prove fatal, as I have by preface forewarned you,
inquisitive reader, therefore it were best if you sought no further to
understand the spot where the treasure lieth hidden. Still, as I
perceive that it is my bounden duty to place on record the spot where
the casket lieth concealed now that my life is so short a span, in order
that the jewels may not be lost for ever, I write these instructions
which, before actinge upon, you must note very carefully, otherwise the
secret place of concealment can never be discovered. And further, be it
recollected that the jewels have upon them the blood of innocent
victims, and that a curse will fall upon the finder providing they are
not sold and half the proceeds given to the poor. Heed ye this!
"Item: Directions for recovering the casket:
"Go unto the castle at half-past three of the clocke when the sun shines
on September the sixth, and followe the shadow of the east angle of the
keep forty and three paces from the edge of the inner moat, then, with
the face turned straight towardes Bengairn, walk fifty and six paces.
Seek there, for my lady Lucrezia's treasure is hidden at a playce no man
knoweth save Malcolm Maxwell; but the secret of whych thou mayest
discover if thou wilt again face death.
"But heed thys my warning, ye who hast gayned this knowledge. Evil be
upon ye and eternal purgatory if ye dare take my lady's treasure for
your own uses without devoting one-half to actes of charity.
"Seek both at Treyf and in the lake at Croylande, and thy diligence
shall be well rewarded by that which thou shalt find.
"Item: How to discover the place at Treyf:
"First find a piece of ruined wall of greate stones, one bearinge a
circle cut upon it as large as a manne's hande. Then, measuring five
paces towards the barbican, find--"
The next page contained the quaint ending which I have already
reproduced.
A page of The Closed Book was missing--the most important page of all!
The folios containing the secret record were not numbered like the rest
of the volume; but on closely examining the place I found that the
important folio of vellum had been torn out.
I wondered if it was possible that Selby had read the book just as I had
done, and having gained the secret had abstracted the leaf whereon
minute directions for the recovery of the treasure had been written.
That he had been seized with symptoms of poisoning was a clear proof
that he had been examining the envenomed pages.
Suddenly recollecting, I turned back to the two roughly drawn plans in
the centre of the record, wondering if either would give a clew to the
whereabouts of the treasure. The reason of the word "treyf" that was
scrawled in the margin of one of them, and had so puzzled me, was now
rendered plain. The plan no doubt concerned the ancient castle of
Treyf, and it seemed more than likely that by its aid I might succeed in
discovering the hiding-place of the Borgia emeralds and the vial of
Lucrezia's secret poison.
The other plan, bearing no name and no distinguishing mark, told me
nothing.
I rose, and, standing at the open window, looked out upon the sun-lit
sea. It was different from the blue, tideless Mediterranean, in sight
of which I had passed those seven years of my life, but the breeze from
it was more invigorating and the surf whiter and heavier than the watery
highway of southern Europe. I stood there, lost in thought.
The secret of the hidden treasure was what old Godfrey Lovel, soldier,
courtier, and monk, had written and yet endeavoured to hide, first by
his terrible warnings, and secondly by poisoning the pages of the record
with that deadly secret substance of the Borgias. Malcolm Maxwell had
died; and he, being the only person aware of the place of concealment of
the casket and its priceless contents, had conceived it to be his duty
to leave that record, yet so to guard it that any who sought to open The
Closed Book would die mysteriously.
I recollected the very narrow escape I had had. The very gloves now
upon my hands were, in all probability, poisoned.
Turning again to the table, I reread the directions given as far as the
missing folio, carefully comparing it with the transcript I had made,
and finding no error. Then, closing the precious book and packing it
away in the stout paper, I took it to the hotel manager to be placed in
his safe.
Certainly the story therein written was a remarkable and interesting
one. Treasures were apparently concealed both at Crowland Abbey and at
Treyf--of the whereabouts of which I was at present in the dark, and it
seemed to me more than likely that the two plans would show the places
where they were hidden. Yet the missing folio was tantalising. Just as
the minute directions for the recovery of the Borgia emeralds were
commenced, they broke off, leaving me utterly confounded!
Could it be possible that those who had formed this remarkable plot to
obtain the book actually knew of its contents? To me it seemed very
much as though they did, and, further, that the man Selby had abstracted
the missing folio. If he had, then he was in possession of the actual
secret of where the casket was concealed!
What I had read of the great treasures of the once magnificent Abbey of
Crowland and of the emeralds of the notorious Lucrezia Borgia whetted my
curiosity and aroused my eagerness to commence a real treasure hunt in
earnest. Stories of buried treasure have always interested me, and I
knew that in the troublous times in England, during the dissolution of
the monasteries and the civil wars, everyone hid his wealth for fear of
seizure. A glance at the correspondence from the King Henry VIII's
commissioners to Thomas Cromwell, now preserved in the British Museum,
and reporting the dissolution of the various monasteries, shows quite
plainly that the abbots and monks hid the greater part of their
treasures before the arrival of the king's men, and that the search made
for them was usually in vain, so ingeniously did they contrive their
places of concealment. It must also be recollected that the monasteries
were the richest institutions in England, and that the altars and images
of the abbeys were for the most part adorned with gold and gems. Many
of the images of Our Lady are known to have been of solid silver and
life-size. Little of this enormous wealth of hidden treasure has yet
been discovered. Where, therefore, is it, unless buried in the earth?
The treasure of the abbot of Crowland was, according to old Godfrey's
chronicle, hidden in the fish pond or in that vicinity, a treasure the
very list of which caused one to marvel, including as it did the great
altar of silver which dated from the thirteenth century; the great
chalice of gold, the gift of Thomas of Barnack; four chalices of silver;
five patens, an alms basin, eight cups, and an image of Our Lady--all of
silver; with two candlesticks, three cups, and five crucifixes in gold,
as well as two silver boxes filled with precious stones. Surely, even
with the law of treasure-trove as bogey before us, such a valuable
collection was worth searching for!
But somehow, as I strolled along the small promenade towards the old
village where the bronzed fishermen were just landing their crab-pots
and packing their catch for the London market, I could not help being
more attracted by the treasure at Treyf. The crafty old Godfrey had
written that record so that the treasure he had concealed in Scotland
should not become altogether lost. The Borgia emeralds were historic,
and the Borgia poison also.
I felt impelled to write to Walter Wyman, explaining what I had
discovered, and urge him to aid me in my search. Now that I had
discovered the secret contained in The Closed Book I could remain in
uncertainty no longer.
That afternoon I took train to Cromer, and in a Gazetteer which I found
in the library there I discovered that the place called Treyf was really
Threave Castle, a very historic pile of ruins situated on an island in
the river Dee in the vicinity of the town of Castle Douglas, district of
Galloway, in the southwest of Scotland, on the line from Carlisle to
Stranraer. This information was most gratifying, for it so happened
that my old friend Major Fenwicke and his wife had a fine shoot with a
splendid old mansion called Crailloch only fifteen miles or so away, and
I knew that I should be warmly welcomed in that merriest of circles if I
wished to make it my headquarters, for Fred Fenwicke kept open house,
and his place was full of visitors year in and year out. A trifle older
than myself, he was one of my very best and most trusted friends,
therefore I was eager to pay him the visit I had so long promised, and,
by reason of living abroad, had been compelled to postpone.
Then, on my return to Sheringham, I wrote a letter to Wyman, telling him
briefly of the interesting discovery I had made, and by the same post
wrote to Fred Fenwicke, announcing that I was eager to pay him a visit
as soon as he could put up both of us. I explained nothing of my
object, for if one starts to search for buried treasure one is apt to be
met with considerable sarcasm and ridicule.
Here, however, I had in my possession facts that could not be disputed--
facts which had resulted in a curious and apparently well-organised
conspiracy.
Those poisoned pages held me terrified, now that I knew how fatal was
their contact.