Glastonbury

Prologue

PrologueA pale and baleful moon looked down upon the green landscape below as the five men moved silently across the wet and marshy surface of the field. Apart from the leader who walked ahead the other four were burdened by the weight of the load they shared between them. The load had felt heavy enough when they'd started; now it grew heavier with every step. Their arms felt leaden, their muscles ached, and a great sigh of relief issued from each of the four when the leader stopped, raised his hand and uttered one word:. “Here.”

They slowly placed the heavy, lead-lined boxes upon the grass and untied the shovels that were strapped to the top, adding to the weight. Under the orders of the tall man who'd brought them to this spot, they began to dig, first cutting rectangular sods of turf from the ground, pieces that would later be fitted back into place to disguise the burial place. Next, they dug deep, almost as deep as the height of a man, a task made easier by the softness of the earth, but also harder by the degree of fatigue they suffered.

Two hours later it was done; the last pieces of turf were carefully re-laid to cover the traces of the burial. They were well away from any regular byways and it was unlikely anyone would find the place before the turf had knitted itself back into place. To all intents and purposes, the hole was perfectly hidden, its contents safely interred in the earth.

With the moon as sole witness to the burial of the heavy lead-lined boxes and their contents, the five men looked back just once as they left the field, their leader taking time to pause and mark the burial site on a map he carried tucked into his belt. Soon, the men had gone, the field lay silent and only the moon would know that they had been in this place that night, and of course, the moon would never tell.