Philippa Carr: The Miracle at St. Bruno's

I touched the cold wall. It was slimy. My common sense said: Turn back. First count the tunnels and tomorrow come down, bring a lantern. Perhaps bring Catherine with you and explore. But that urge which I thought of as the Angel of Death was urging me on and I had to follow.

Carefully I picked my way, quietly sliding my feet over the stones in the passage. On and on went the light; it disappeared and appeared again. It was like a will-o’-the-wisp and a thought came to me. Perhaps it is not Bruno but some spirit of a long-dead monk who will punish me for prying into what might well be a holy place.

The light went out suddenly. The darkness seemed intense. But I still went on. I felt my way carefully with my hands, sliding my feet so as not to trip.

Then I came to the opening and there was the light again. I was in a chamber and the lantern was on the ground. A man was standing there. I knew it was Bruno.

“You dared…,” he cried.

“Yes, I dared.”

He came toward me and as he did so a figure loomed up behind him—a great white glittering figure.

I cried: “There is someone here.”

“Yes,” he answered. “There is someone here.”

I stared at the figure. It had seemed to move because the light from the lantern had caught the glittering jewels with which it was covered. I saw the crown with the great stone which was dazzling in the dimness.

I had seen it before.

“I should have killed you before this,” said Bruno savagely.

He came toward me menacingly and I shrank away, thinking: I am going to die here…now…and Bruno is going to kill me. Everything that has happened from the moment I went through the door in the Abbey wall has led me to this moment. And Bruno is going to kill me.

I had played into his hands. I had come of my own accord into the secret tunnels. He would kill me and leave me here and no one would know what had become of me. I should disappear here…beneath the Abbey.

“Bruno,” I cried. “Wait. Don’t act rashly. Think….”

He did not answer. Time appeared to have slowed down. The silence seemed to go on and on.

“Bruno….” I was not sure whether he had heard for although my lips formed the words I seemed to have lost the power to speak.

It was surprising that my thoughts could stray from this terrible danger; but I was saying to myself: It was here that he found his wealth. It was not from Spain. I am beginning to understand and that is why I am going to die.

There was no escape. I was trapped. Nothing could save me.

He was close to me now. His hands would be on my throat, pressing out life forever. I was lost.

But I was wrong.

The great figure looming behind him had moved. He, with his back to it, could not see this. It was my fancy. But, no. It swayed. It seemed to totter and then suddenly it fell.

It came crashing down toward us. Instinctively I leaped back, but Bruno had not seen it.

There was a deafening sound. I closed my eyes, waiting for death. I stood cowering against the cold stone wall. I waited…for what I was not sure. For death, I supposed.

Then I opened my eyes and saw that Bruno lay beneath that great image.

I forgot everything else but that he was my husband and I had loved him once.

“Bruno,” I cried. “Bruno!”

I knelt beside him. I brought the lantern close. His body was crushed and his eyes were wide open, staring at me but there was no recognition in them.

I must get help, I told myself. I looked about me for the entrance to this place and I saw that I was in a kind of chamber. The sides of it were of rock, as was the ceiling. It had been built, I guessed, to store the Abbey’s treasures. And this great figure lying on the floor ablaze with jewels I had seen before. It was the jeweled Madonna of the secret chapel.

It was comparatively easy to make my way out of the chamber but doing so I tripped over a lever of some sort and in that moment I heard a rambling sound. I thought that it was due to a fall of earth, but this was not so. I turned. The chamber had disappeared. I knew that a door had slid down shutting it off and that I was on one side of that door, Bruno on the other. I set down the lantern and examined the door. I could see no handle on it, no catch, no means of opening it. Then just as I had had the compulsion to follow Bruno, so I had the intense desire to get away.

I was alone in those dark tunnels. I must try to bring help to Bruno for I could do nothing alone. Slowly I found my way back to the steps.

Who could best help? I thought at once of Valerian. I knew where he slept. It was in one of the old guesthouses where several of the monks had their quarters.

Still carrying the lantern I went to his room. It was as I expected—the crucifix on the wall, the hard pallet, a desk, a chair and no other furniture.

“Valerian!” I cried.

He started up from his bed and I said: “I have just come from the tunnels. I followed Bruno there tonight. There has been a terrible accident.”

“Bruno is dead,” he answered quietly.

“How can you know that?”

“I know it,” he replied. He put on a fustian robe and went on: “We will go back to the tunnels.”

I said: “I must explain to you. I followed him. I felt a compulsion to do so.”

He nodded.

“I found him in a sort of chamber. There was a great glittering figure there. I had seen it before because he had shown it to me and to Kate when we were children. I think he was going to kill me. The figure fell…he was beneath it. I came away and a sort of door descended.”

He did not speak but taking the lantern, led the way through the tunnels. I could see that he knew the way.

He paused at length and said: “This is where you entered the chamber.”

“It would be here, but I see no sign of it.”

“Here is what you call the door.”

“We should bring him back to the house. He will need a doctor.”

Valerian shook his head. “He will never need a doctor again.”

“Open the door and go in.”

“I cannot open the door.”

“Please do.”

“It is not in my power.” Nevertheless he attempted to do so but his efforts were in vain.

He held the lantern so that he could see my face.

“You have been through a terrible ordeal,” he said. “I must talk to you…now. But this is not the place. Come back with me to the scriptorium.”

“There must be something we can do. Bruno needs attention.”

“He is in the hands of God.”

“You are sure that he is dead?”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“How can you be?”

“I know these things. Come. We cannot enter the chamber. The way is not known to any of us. He was the only one who knew. But we must talk.”

I followed him out of the tunnels to the scriptorium. There he bade me be seated and gave me a cordial to drink. It was hot and burned my throat but it revived me.

“The miracle must live,” he said.

“There was no miracle. It was because I had proved this that he hated me and tried to kill me.”

“Yet the miracle must live.”

“How can it when it was not the truth?”

“It will be the truth in the minds of many, and it is what is in the mind which is important.”

“He will be found there in the tunnels.”

Valerian shook his head. “Only he knew how to open the door. The secret was told to him by the Abbot. Only the Abbots of St. Bruno’s knew how to open that door and they passed the secret on to their successors. The code was written down and hidden—none knew where but the Abbots and those destined to take their place. Treasures of the Abbey have been stored there through the ages. Bruno would tell no one. The secret was his alone.”

“It was there he found the wealth to rebuild the Abbey. It was from the jewels of the Madonna. He took them as he needed them. I can see it all so clearly now.”