'Not paper, vellum,' Aubrey said. 'Fine animal skin. Durable and beautiful. Used for the most important records.'
'Such as a Deed of Recognition?' Caroline suggested, looking over his shoulder.
Aubrey studied the document that lay on top of the bundle. It was written in Latin, but the purple splash of a royal seal at the bottom was unmistakeable, even if faded. 'I'd say so.' He stared at the tomb. 'Bertie, you are a deep one.'
He closed the drawer and felt it click shut. Then he lifted his head. He'd felt a tickle, an insubstantial caress on his nerves. 'Ah.'
Caroline straightened. 'What is it?'
'Magic.'
George glanced from side to side. 'Where?'
'I'm not sure.' Aubrey could feel it, thick and deep. 'It seems to be coming from all directions.'
'The church,' Caroline said. 'It's fading.'
Even in the dim light thrown by the lantern, the stones of the crypt were growing insubstantial enough to show the earth that lay behind them. It would be madness to be trapped in the place. 'You're right. We must get out of here.'
Caroline led the way. They hurried through the tombs and monuments, footsteps echoing. They rushed up the stairs and almost knocked over the startled priest.
'Father,' Aubrey said, in Gallian. 'Everyone must leave the church. Immediately.'
'I'm the only one here,' the bewildered cleric replied, in Albionish. 'I must tend the church.'
Aubrey blinked. For an instant, the whole church wavered, rippling like a pond in the wind. Then, the walls began to fade.
George took the priest's arm. 'If you're the only one here, no-one's going to miss you.' He bundled the protesting priest toward the door, with Aubrey and Caroline close behind.
Standing on the courtyard outside the church, surrounded by the passionless edifice of the Taxation offices, they stared as the solid stone of the church continued to grow more ghostly. In the midday sun, such a thing seemed unlikely, a trick of the light, but when Aubrey could see through the walls, making out the shapes of buildings behind it, the reality of the phenomenon was undeniable.
'The government can't keep this sort of thing secret forever,' Caroline said.
'I'm surprised they've managed to suppress it this long,' Aubrey said.
'And what will the people say when they realise their cherished landmarks are vanishing?' George asked. The priest, standing next to him, gaped.
'Prime Minister Giraud will be hard pressed to hold onto power, I'd say. And if the government collapses here, I know one country that would be very, very pleased.'
Aubrey looked at the fading church, then at the ancient document in his hands, another item that would shake the status quo.
If it ever came to light.
'LOOKS RATHER ODD, OLD MAN,' GEORGE SAID OVER A CUP of coffee, 'your poring over dusty old relics in a place like this. That sort of thing would be more at home in a museum, I'd say.'
The café fronted onto the small square between the Taxation offices and the river. In the centre of the square was a fountain. A startled-looking goat spouted water through its mouth while balanced on its back legs. Aubrey was impressed by the sculptor's skill and puzzled by his imagination.
Aubrey sighed. Caroline was sitting close, brow furrowed as she studied the precious text. 'This will do, George. It's all we have at the moment.'
'Don't mind me, old man.' The large slice of cherry tart George bit into showed why he was happy with the venue.
Aubrey was fascinated. For a formal medieval document, the Deed of Recognition was direct and simple. Most of it was taken up with the titles of both Stephen III and Christian, a good two-thirds of the page detailing exactly which province, district and demesne belonged to each. The actual recognition was blunt, direct and inarguable, which, Aubrey decided, is exactly what the old warrior Stephen must have had in mind. It made it clear that Stephen had married Christian's mother after the death of his first wife, Clothilde, and the document was a binding regal declaration of Christian's change of status from illegitimacy to legitimacy. Of course, Aubrey decided, Stephen wasn't to know that Christian would long outlive his three brothers. The warrior king probably thought that Christian's legitimising was simply for show and of no dynastic importance.
The other documents proved to be equally interesting. One of them detailed the assorted possessions and responsibilities of the monarch. At the top of the list was the Heart of Gold.
It confirmed Aubrey's impression that this fabulous artefact was of ancient origin, for it was noted as being old when Stephen came to the throne. The document described the golden heart as being the soul of the nation, irreplaceable in every way. It also spoke of terrible consequences if it were moved.
'What does that word mean?' Caroline asked. She pointed right where Aubrey was reading.
'Unravelling, I think.'
Aubrey paused and stared at the smoke-stained ceiling. Unravelling. That was a good way of describing what was happening to Lutetia and Gallia. Just as an intricate carpet could fray and lose its pattern, the country was falling to pieces. And a dangerous time for Albion would ensue if it continued.
'I'll feel happier after we leave these documents at the embassy,' he said, and he wondered what Bertie's reaction would be when he read them.
Nineteen
AUBREY HELD THE BANKNOTES JUST OUT OF REACH OF the cabby. 'Are you sure this is the right place?' he asked in Gallian.
'This is where you asked to come.' The cabby was unshaven. He wore a monocle, which made him look rather more academic than the rest of his clothes indicated.
Aubrey nodded to Caroline and George. 'He says this is the place where von Stralick asked us to meet him.'
'Looks like a wasteland to me,' George said. The sun shone hard and brassy over the factories with yards full of discarded timber, iron and rope. A disused canal, overgrown with willows and rubbish, ran behind the factories. The entire area was abandoned, an industrial wilderness. Aubrey found it difficult to believe that the Chalbord district was less than six miles from the centre of the city.
'What's that?' Aubrey asked the cabby. He pointed at a mound of concrete on the nearest corner. Ten feet or more in height, it looked as if a bunker had been knocked over by a steamroller and then used as a dump for unwanted pieces of cast iron.
'Metro station, used to be. The St Louis spur runs right underneath us here. Not been used since they built the Central line.'
Aubrey handed him the money. 'Excellent.'
The cab rolled off with little haste, despite the unlikelihood of picking up any fares in a neighbourhood that seemed devoid of people. Aubrey watched until it turned the corner into Kellerman Street and headed back toward the centre of the city.
Caroline inspected the rubble from a distance. 'Do you think we're looking at another Holmland hiding place?'
'We'll find out soon enough,' Aubrey said. 'But they do seem to have a penchant for underground refuges.'