Jake Conley Mysteries Collection

Chapter 11

Unsure whether he would be admitted into the august surroundings of the Society of Antiquaries of London, Jake visited the website and discovered that outside researchers were indeed welcome. There was one proviso:

‘The Museum collections are held within closed stores, so prior notice is essential. Some of the Library collections and all the Society’s archives are closed access or take time to retrieve, so researchers should give as much notice as possible if they wish to consult those materials.’

‘The Museum collections are held within closed stores, so prior notice is essential. Some of the Library collections and all the Society’s archives are closed access or take time to retrieve, so researchers should give as much notice as possible if they wish to consult those materials.’He decided that this was most reasonable and positive and to use the Enquiry Service, not the email but by phoning the number provided. Within minutes, he had stipulated his requirements to a helpful gentleman who replied and was thrilled to learn that material on the East Riding of Yorkshire by Sir Robert Wanley would be made available to him within forty-eight hours. This meant he would travel down to London by train from York to King’s Cross the next day, stay overnight in the capital, and visit Burlington House the day after. The library opened at 10 am, so he made his appointment for 10.30.

Jake booked his ticket and accommodation online then went downstairs to inform Gwen of his plans. He needed to ensure his room here because he hadn’t by any means finished his exploration of Elfrid’s Hole. Whether Sir Robert Wanley’s writings might cast more light on the mysterious occurrences remained to be seen.

He found her sitting at a sewing machine hemming a large piece of cloth. He told her the jaunt to London might be a waste of time and money, but he had to try since he could get no further with his research on Aldfrith. He preferred her to think he was researching the king, not the cave. She was pleased he was coming back to Ebberston but mostly that he wouldn’t be going to Elfrid’s Hole.

“That’s a relief. You’ll be much safer in London, love.”

Originally a private Palladian mansion owned by the Earl of Burlington, the imposing façade of the house intimidated Jake as he approached the arched entrance. Just under the crown of the arch, a red flag rippled in the breeze, bearing the name Burlington House in yellow capital letters. The carved head of a goddess, Jake didn’t know who, presided over the arch under golden lettering forming the legend Society of Antiquaries. If he had any doubts that the Society was a serious organisation, such ideas were dispelled by all this. Feeling unimportant and somewhat bogus as a researcher, Jake took a deep breath and marched under the arch, checked his watch – 10.25, perfect timing – and went to the entrance to be directed to the first floor, which housed the library.

The librarian who received him asked in a cautionary tone whether he had read the society’s guidelines for outside researchers.

“Yes, as you see, I’ve only brought my laptop, no bags, and I won’t be reproducing material, so no need for permission. I’m just here to read and take notes.”

The librarian gave him a thin smile. “Very good, sir. If you would kindly step this way to the Reading Room.”

He showed Jake to a table occupied on one side by a young woman, presumably a student, and laid on the other an ancient leather-bound volume with a serial number in gold foil embossed on the spine with a month and year.

“If you need any help, you can find me at the desk in the other room.”

Jake thanked him and moved the volume to read the date: December 1784. He nodded to the fair-haired student, who’d raised her head to smile at him before re-immersing herself in her work. Jake booted his laptop and pushed it away to make room for the large volume. Gingerly, he opened its pages, yellowed with age, and his eyes swiftly ran down the contents until he reached the name Wanley. His heart fluttered as he read the title of the article: On events both historic and otherwise concerning the mystery of ye cavern, named Elfrid’s Hole, located in ye countie of York and more particularly within the bounds of Ebberston village. p. 127.

On events both historic and otherwise concerning the mystery of ye cavern, named Elfrid’s Hole, located in ye countie of York and more particularly within the bounds of Ebberston village. p. 127.The customary dull ache at the centre of his brow began, confirming he was on the right track. With exaggerated care, he turned the stiff pages of the volume, negating a fierce desire to flip them over at speed to reach the page he sought.

Page 127, after a few pompous lines in italics informing him of the qualifications of the writer, began with a long Premise. In other circumstances, Jake might have skipped an introductory essay and gone directly to the essential material, but a few words in Old English caught his eye, and he read:

The famous Anglo-Saxon poem The Ruin opens with ‘Wraetli is thaes wealhstane’, id est, ‘Wraith-like is this native stone’. From this, we may deduce that within the stone of England itself lies the wraith: its being an emanation of England. Written testimony reaching us in this eighteenth-century suggests the Anglo-Saxons saw no ghosts, notwithstanding which, they knew themselves to be haunted.

The famous Anglo-Saxon poem The Ruin opens with ‘Wraetli is thaes wealhstane’, id est, ‘Wraith-like is this native stone’. From this, we may deduce that within the stone of England itself lies the wraith: its being an emanation of England. Written testimony reaching us in this eighteenth-century suggests the Anglo-Saxons saw no ghosts, notwithstanding which, they knew themselves to be haunted.Jake gaped at these words. Here was an eminent eighteenth-century antiquarian advocating the existence of ghosts, at the cost of exposing himself to derision from his contemporaries. He greedily read on.

Scientists, freethinkers and clergy discredit the existence of supernatural forces as superstition, but I wish to sustain, along with the great Doctor Johnson, who wrote on the subject of the existence of ghosts: ‘All argument is against it; but all belief is for it’. I beg the indulgence of my long-suffering Reader to consider for a moment the impact of Protestantism upon our national psyche. The God of the Protestant is a God of Order and reason, interpreted by learned men in the form of systematic theology. This produces a coherent view of the world devoid of superstition, neatly and tidily parcelled for our consumption. But, Dear Reader, what of our national folklore that has deep roots in paganism? Are we also to sweep away a wider, older culture, the mentality of the supernatural in the name of scientific reason – or are we to believe the evidence of our own eyes?

Scientists, freethinkers and clergy discredit the existence of supernatural forces as superstition, but I wish to sustain, along with the great Doctor Johnson, who wrote on the subject of the existence of ghosts: ‘All argument is against it; but all belief is for it’. I beg the indulgence of my long-suffering Reader to consider for a moment the impact of Protestantism upon our national psyche. The God of the Protestant is a God of Order and reason, interpreted by learned men in the form of systematic theology. This produces a coherent view of the world devoid of superstition, neatly and tidily parcelled for our consumption. But, Dear Reader, what of our national folklore that has deep roots in paganism? Are we also to sweep away a wider, older culture, the mentality of the supernatural in the name of scientific reason – or are we to believe the evidence of our own eyes?This last rider made Jake’s skin prickle into goose bumps. Had Sir Robert seen something supernatural at Elfrid’s Hole? He continued eagerly.

seenOur nation has a long tradition of testimony, often committed to the printed word. Herein I shall cite the 1581 work of Stephen Batman.

Our nation has a long tradition of testimony, often committed to the printed word. Herein I shall cite the 1581 work of Stephen Batman.Batman? Surely Bateman! Jake smothered an irreverent laugh and transformed it into a slight cough, not wishing to disturb the student opposite.

‘The Doome warning all men to Judgmente: wherein are contayned for the most parte all the straunge Prodigies hapned in the Worlde’. Or again, Dear Reader, the 1682 volume of Nathaniel Crouch, ‘Wonderfull Prodigies of Judgment and Mercy, discovered in above Three Hundred Memorable Histories. These, I sustain are not mere pamphlets suspended from stalls for the ignorant and gullible to gape at, nor almanacs or astrological compendia of the spurious kind, but serious, scholarly collections of testimonies various and unexplainable. In harmony with these authors, I eschew all reference to comets, eclipses, monstrous births, rainstorms of blood, lightning and the blast of trumpets. Nay, but I will return to ‘Wraetli is thaes wealhstane’ and unite my efforts to those of Robert Burton, who wrote less than one hundred years ago, ‘Divells many times appeare to men, and afright them out of their wits sometimes walking at noone day, sometimes at night, counter-feiting dead men"s ghosts.’

‘The Doome warning all men to Judgmente: wherein are contayned for the most parte all the straunge Prodigies hapned in the Worlde’Or again, Dear Reader, the 1682 volume of Nathaniel Crouch, ‘Wonderfull Prodigies of Judgment and Mercy, discovered in above Three Hundred Memorable Histories. These, I sustain are not mere pamphlets suspended from stalls for the ignorant and gullible to gape at, nor almanacs or astrological compendia of the spurious kind, but serious, scholarly collections of testimonies various and unexplainable. In harmony with these authors, I eschew all reference to comets, eclipses, monstrous births, rainstorms of blood, lightning and the blast of trumpets. Nay, but I will return to ‘Wraetli is thaes wealhstane’ and unite my efforts to those of Robert Burton, who wrote less than one hundred years ago, ‘Divells many times appeare to men, and afright them out of their wits sometimes walking at noone day, sometimes at night, counter-feiting dead men"s ghosts.’Jake sat up and ran his sleeve across his forehead. His ‘third eye’ was aching so hard he felt as though someone was drilling into his skull. This was a sure sign, he believed, that he was learning something of fundamental importance about the Ebberston cavern and its supernatural forces. He had reached the end of the Premise, and the writings of the long-dead Sir Robert Wanley had spoken to him about devils in the guise of men at Elfrid’s Hole. What exactly had the antiquarian seen to age him and change his nature, transforming him into an irascible recluse?

Jake typed up some notes from the Premise but kept them short in his keenness to carry on reading. What came next was a measured account of the location and events of the Battle of Ebberston and Sir Robert’s interpretation of the causes and the antagonists. He stored this away, too, for future reference. He also discovered, for the first time, the nature of King Aldfrith’s wounds. Sir Robert had found a contemporary source affirming that the king had been struck by an arrow and subsequently received a wound to his thigh inflicted by a sword. Protected by his men, the king was carried to a cave on a hillside near to the site of the battle. They sheltered there, far enough away and unseen by the victorious foe. Later still in 705, the king’s men took him to his palace in Driffelda, where he succumbed to his wounds and died. Much of this was known to Jake, but what followed astounded him.

Sir Robert began to talk about the location of the cavern and how his acquaintance, the esteemed Sir Charles Hotham-Thompson, had built a memorial to commemorate the site of Aldfrith’s suffering and evasion. But he also referred to how the well-respected nobleman, for his part, not only shared the experiences he would now go on to describe but would also corroborate and endorse them. Jake gasped, causing the student across the table to stare at him quizzically. He pretended not to notice her interest. It was tiring following the ancient style of printing where the letter s was printed in a form similar to an f and the whole page of writing was dense and sloping to the right. But there was no question of resting his eyes; he had come for this and could scarcely believe his luck that the Society of Antiquaries had preserved this unique testimony.

sfI came to Ebberston Hall where lived the worthy Sir Charles, a distinguished war veteran of numerous campaigns. A colonel in His Majesty’s Armed Forces is not the kind of person to be unduly disturbed or unmanned by the inexplicable. Yet I found him quite altered by his experiences at the place known to the local folk as Elfrid’s Hole. So there it was in print; Sir Charles had shared his exposure to the supernatural with a fellow knight of the realm. I must admit to surprise, nay, astonishment, when he first warned me of ghosts on his land and listed the mysterious occurrences associated with the cavern. My undoubted scepticism caused considerable tumult in the breast of my host, which was not quietened until I let him prevail upon me to visit together the site of the happenings. Whether it was the Colonel’s insistence that we should each carry a hunting piece on our shoulder, which prevented any otherworldly apparition, the fact remains we saw nothing of the sort. However, the feeling of unmitigated malevolence issuing from the cave caused me to retreat on the instant. “Exactly!” Jake exclaimed and had to excuse himself with the young woman opposite, “I’m overly involved in my research, I do apologise.”

I came to Ebberston Hall where lived the worthy Sir Charles, a distinguished war veteran of numerous campaigns. A colonel in His Majesty’s Armed Forces is not the kind of person to be unduly disturbed or unmanned by the inexplicable. Yet I found him quite altered by his experiences at the place known to the local folk as Elfrid’s Hole. I must admit to surprise, nay, astonishment, when he first warned me of ghosts on his land and listed the mysterious occurrences associated with the cavern. My undoubted scepticism caused considerable tumult in the breast of my host, which was not quietened until I let him prevail upon me to visit together the site of the happenings. Whether it was the Colonel’s insistence that we should each carry a hunting piece on our shoulder, which prevented any otherworldly apparition, the fact remains we saw nothing of the sort. However, the feeling of unmitigated malevolence issuing from the cave caused me to retreat on the instant. She smiled at him sweetly, and he inwardly promised to draw no further attention to his person. Irritably, he tried to find his place on the page. The next occasion I visited the cave, I was, perhaps unwisely, alone and ask my Reader’s indulgence if I return to Robert Burton’s ‘Divells’ for there is no question of the evil emanating from the ghosts I chanced upon that day. Long dead they must have been, for they fought in the Battle of Ebberston one thousand one hundred and sixty-nine years ago as I write. I can only suppose the wraiths guarded the spirit of their king lying inside the cavern. Not that I can be sure, for I ventured no nearer but fled the unholy spot as the armed and helmed figures raised their weapons in an unequivocal gesture of hostility. I fell into the most confounded mental ague for several days and had to rest a sprained ankle procured in my hasty and unseemly retreat. Yet I thank the Lord I lingered not by Elfrid’s Hole else I fear my quill would ne’er again have scratched on paper.

The next occasion I visited the cave, I was, perhaps unwisely, alone and ask my Reader’s indulgence if I return to Robert Burton’s ‘Divells’ for there is no question of the evil emanating from the ghosts I chanced upon that day. Long dead they must have been, for they fought in the Battle of Ebberston one thousand one hundred and sixty-nine years ago as I write. I can only suppose the wraiths guarded the spirit of their king lying inside the cavern. Not that I can be sure, for I ventured no nearer but fled the unholy spot as the armed and helmed figures raised their weapons in an unequivocal gesture of hostility. I fell into the most confounded mental ague for several days and had to rest a sprained ankle procured in my hasty and unseemly retreat. Yet I thank the Lord I lingered not by Elfrid’s Hole else I fear my quill would ne’er again have scratched on paper.Jake sat up and breathed deeply. He realised that with this last paragraph, he had ceased breathing – and now his head spun, and his heart fatigued to serve its purpose. He fully understood what it meant for a renowned eighteenth-century figure to lay bare his emotions and testify to such incredible events.

In the course of my recuperation, I had occasion to compare my sighting with those of Sir Charles and to devise a strategy to obviate further apparitions. Sir Charles, an old-fashioned Anglican, set his face against involving an exorcist, labelling it ‘papist nonsense’. However, he was prepared to have the cavern filled with boulders and an especially large one, appropriately enough, placed in the style of that of Joseph of Arimatea’s tomb, blocking the opening. The good Gentleman, aware of a disservice to an historical site, furthermore, settled upon the felicitous concept of commemorating the refuge of King Aldfrith with the construction of a stone memorial around and above the grotto. That the unfortunate deaths of two labourers should ensue in this operation may or may not be ascribed to unnatural presences. It is not for the writer to determine and beyond the scope of this article. The Reader will undoubtedly make his own judgments based upon the testimony herein…

In the course of my recuperation, I had occasion to compare my sighting with those of Sir Charles and to devise a strategy to obviate further apparitions. Sir Charles, an old-fashioned Anglican, set his face against involving an exorcist, labelling it ‘papist nonsense’. However, he was prepared to have the cavern filled with boulders and an especially large one, appropriately enough, placed in the style of that of Joseph of Arimatea’s tomb, blocking the opening. The good Gentleman, aware of a disservice to an historical site, furthermore, settled upon the felicitous concept of commemorating the refuge of King Aldfrith with the construction of a stone memorial around and above the grotto. That the unfortunate deaths of two labourers should ensue in this operation may or may not be ascribed to unnatural presences. It is not for the writer to determine and beyond the scope of this article. The Reader will undoubtedly make his own judgments based upon the testimony herein…Jake glanced farther down the page but could see little of importance to add to his research, just a prolonged justification of the veracity of what he already knew. Excited at this confirmation of his theory about Ebberston, Jake closed the volume and typed up a few notes. He closed his tired eyes, rubbed his aching forehead and pondered. What troubled him most was the unexplained re-opening of the Hole. How had it been achieved, and were innocent people at greater risk of a perilous encounter with ancient spectres? He realised he must find this out before another tragedy occurred.