Ken McClure - Dust to dust

‘What’s that?’

‘A short while ago you mentioned the possibility of Black Death’s having been caused by a virus unknown to us today?’

‘Just as a possibility,’ said Motram.

‘All the same, if that did turn out to be the case, wouldn’t there be a chance of opening Pandora’s box when it comes to breaching this vault in the Scottish Borders and bringing a killer back to life? I’d hate the college to be responsible for unleashing a new pandemic on the world.’

‘I really don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ said Motram. ‘Viruses can’t exist outside living tissue and these corpses have been lying there for seven centuries.’

‘But in a preserved state, we hope,’ Harvey reminded him.

‘Most preservation methods involve an end to the living state,’ said Motram. ‘Once the host ceases to exist, so does the virus. I suppose it could be argued that one particular method of preservation involves suspension of the living state, but that would involves deep freezing. If this fourteenth-century family actually came up with a chest freezer that’s been running at minus seventy degrees centigrade for the past seven hundred years without interruption, we could conceivably have a problem on our hands.’

‘Fair enough.’ Harvey, picked up the port decanter to refill Motram’s glass. ‘Mind you, we could be considering a virus we know nothing at all about.’

Motram grinned and said, ‘Agreed. If it came from outer space, all bets are off.’

‘It’s come through,’ announced John Motram, waving the letter he’d just opened in the air.

‘That’s nice, dear… what has?’ Cassie was preoccupied with the morning paper.

‘Permission in principle from Historic Scotland to investigate the site… subject to on-site evaluation and the presence of their inspector while work is in progress. Any further permissions will depend on his or her assessment of the situation on the ground.’

‘Gosh, that was quick,’ said Cassie, looking over her glasses. ‘I thought these things were supposed to take ages.’

‘This means we can start as soon as we determine the exact location of the tomb — maybe next week,’ said John, with obvious pleasure and enthusiasm.

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ she asked.

‘Of course I’m sure,’ replied John, astonished. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean… have you thought about the dangers that might be involved in opening up a tomb like that?’

‘Cassie, I’ve been through all this with the chap at Oxford. It’s been over seven hundred years. No bacterium or virus lasts that long. You’re a doctor, you know that.’

‘Mmm,’ agreed Cassie, still sounding doubtful. ‘But we’re talking about Black Death here… and the Le Clerks were experts on preservation. Maybe they found ways of preserving bugs as well as bodies…’

John could see that his wife was genuinely worried. ‘That’s another of the lines Harvey took. Look,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t believe for one moment that there’s any danger, but if it makes you feel better we’ll be wearing coveralls and masks for the disinterment — actually to prevent us contaminating them, but it works both ways.’

‘It does make me feel better,’ said Cassie.

John continued opening his mail and Cassie returned to her paper until he interrupted again. ‘Damnation.’

‘Problems?’

‘It’s from the solicitors for the Hotspur Foundation — you know, the people who’re funding the work in the Borders. They’re calling in their part of the bargain. They want me in London for what they call “consultancy work”.’

‘What kind of consultancy work?’

‘They don’t say.’

‘Where abouts?’

‘A private hospital in west London, St Raphael’s.’

‘Will you go?’

‘I don’t have much choice. I agreed to their terms and conditions and they’ve been very generous with funding.’

‘So the search for the tomb will have to be put on hold?’

Motram smiled. ‘For a commercial break.’

Cassie left for work and John opened his briefcase to remove a bunch of papers which he spread out on the dining room table. His university had been so pleased about the collaboration with Balliol College, Oxford and the grant money coming in from the Hotspur Foundation that they had been more than helpful in agreeing to his taking time off to prepare for excavation. He had been excused all teaching duties for the remainder of the current term.

The papers that had come into Balliol’s possession had revealed that the corpses taken from the Selkirk forests had been interred in an underground chamber in Dryburgh Abbey, near Melrose. This had meant seeking permission from Historic Scotland to carry out preliminary work on the site but a potentially bigger problem was that Dryburgh Abbey had been destroyed on several occasions down through the years and getting information about its layout in the fourteenth century had been proving problematical. The abbey had been burned by English troops in 1322, rebuilt but burned again in 1385. It

had enjoyed a renaissance in the fifteenth century, only to be destroyed again in 1544.

Motram’s task from the layouts in front of him was to identify, in the ruins of today, surviving parts of the original structure that could be used as reference points when interpreting the information given in the Balliol letter. To help him, Oxford academics had provided a translation of the Chaucerian English used in the text, and he was able to establish that the chapter house of the existing abbey — although surrounded by ruins — was in its original siting and, according to the collection of tourist pamphlets he had on the table, still retained elements of plaster and paintwork that dated back to the inception of the abbey.

There were a number of references in the Balliol letter to the chapter house, which encouraged Motram at first, but when it became apparent that the secret chamber might actually lie underneath it his spirits began to flag. It would be extremely unlikely — his academic translation of ‘there wouldn’t be a snowball’s chance in hell’ — that Historic Scotland would permit excavation work to go on inside perhaps the most precious part of the abbey.

But as he read further and made some relevant calculations it seemed that, although the entrance to the chamber might well be underneath the chapter house, the actual chamber itself stretched out to the east, outside the walls of the abbey. This meant that access to it might be achieved by digging east of the boundary wall — a much more acceptable proposal, he thought, for the authorities to sanction.

Motram examined some aerial photographs and identified what he thought might be the next problem. There were a number of very large mature trees in the grounds, which as he read further he learned were yews and cedars of Lebanon, very old and possibly planted by knights returning from the crusades.

Using the tip of his pen, he traced the likely location of the secret chamber to the east of the chapter house but found it impossible to judge how close to the roots of the trees it might come. His original thought had been to make an approach from the east end of the chamber — the end furthest from the abbey wall — but, if that was going to be a problem, he thought a compromise might be to gain access from the north or south sides where the ground would be clear but the digging would be closer to the abbey walls.

Some kind of on-site geosurvey would be necessary before shovels could break earth. If he could arrange this before his trip to London, he would be well satisfied with his progress. He repacked his briefcase and set off for the university, intending to seek advice from academic colleagues to see if they thought the survey work could be done in house.