No Time Like the Past (9 page)

And from that moment on, it probably became my fault as well, because I really shouldn’t drink in the afternoon. Actually, I probably shouldn’t drink at all. No good ever comes of it.

The silence from Mrs Partridge was deafening.

‘Now then,’ he said, briskly, tapping the desk. ‘To business.’

I grinned at Mrs Partridge who compressed her lips in such a way that made me glad she wasn’t compressing them at me.

‘So – the Chancellor and her gang have gone back happy, sir?

‘It would appear so, yes. However, I fear I may have allowed myself to be – ambushed.’

‘You, sir?’

He pulled himself together. ‘I won’t bore you with the details, but it would appear that I – we – have accepted a challenge.’

I had a blurred vision of the really rather pleasant Chancellor leaping from her seat and slapping his face with her glove. Pull yourself together, Maxwell.

‘To what have you been challenged, sir?’

‘We, Dr Maxwell. To what have
we
been challenged?’

‘I don’t know, sir. I wasn’t there.’

‘What?’

I raised my voice a little in case he was becoming hard of hearing. ‘I wasn’t there, sir.’

‘Where?’

‘What?’

Mrs Partridge coughed. She probably had an afternoon she wanted to get on with.

He continued. ‘There was some discussion over lunch – a variety of opinions were expressed and a challenge offered.’

He breathed heavily. I was enjoying myself so much that I gave no thought as to where all this might be leading me.

‘It would appear that last year, during a week of fund-raising activities, the University of Thirsk enjoyed considerable success in an event concerning the propulsion of aquatic vessels along a body of water. The first one to arrive at a designated finishing point is deemed the winner. Although apparently, in terms of crowd entertainment, it appears the journey is more important than the arrival. A great deal of horseplay must occur before what one can only describe as “the surviving team” reaches the finishing post. The Thirsk entry was joined in this adventure by boats designed and manned by the local police force, a branch of the Royal Engineers, and the Rugby Club. They still managed to emerge triumphant, so we can, I think, draw the conclusion that they are a force to be reckoned with.’

His enunciation was perfect. His movements perfectly coordinated but I realised at that moment, that Dr Bairstow was as drunk as a skunk. As a newt, even.

‘A raft race? Sir, that is so cool!’                                                                                              

I could see I had joined Dr Bairstow under the cloud of Mrs Partridge’s displeasure.

‘According to an inappropriately self-satisfied Chancellor, they swept all before them. Of course, up there in the Danelaw, they’re all descended from Caledonian cattle robbers, invading Vikings, and whippet-racing black-pudding eaters, so that probably doesn’t amount to much.’

I heard an unwise voice say, ‘The University of Thirsk attracts staff and students of the highest calibre, sir, and its reputation is internationally recognised,’ and realised, with some concern, that it had been me.

Fortunately, he wasn’t listening. ‘And when I say swept all before them, I mean just that. Apparently they affixed some sort of contrivance to the front of their – craft – that simply swept aside all opposition and they cruised to victory – literally – waving to the crowds and broadcasting a ditty, entitled “We are the Champions” to the detriment of ear drums, glass edifices, and music lovers everywhere.’

My God, he was really worked up.

‘Deplorable,’ I said.

‘Over lunch, the entire Senior Faculty insisted on demonstrating their victory utilising a variety of cruets, glasses, and cutlery dredged not only from our table but also from the unfortunates sitting nearby. I believe an entire family went without black pepper and Parmesan cheese on their penne, simply so the Chancellor could demonstrate the superiority of their tactics.’

His eyes closed as he relived the outrage.

‘Disgraceful, sir.’

‘So there you have it, Dr Maxwell.’

I peered into my glass. I’d missed something. ‘Do I?’

‘The University of Thirsk has challenged St Mary’s to a race. Their boat against ours. The event to be held here, on the lake, during the afternoon of the Open Day.’

‘Really, sir? Awesome!’

 He assumed his Churchillian pose. ‘We must win, Dr Maxwell. And not just win. We must crush them! We must epitomise the spirit of the Armada! The little boats at Dunkirk! The valiant actions of the
Revenge
!’

‘I believe the
Revenge
was outnumbered fifty-three to one, suffered catastrophic damage and the loss of most of her crew, sir.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘We must relive Trafalgar! St Mary’s expects every man to do his duty! Think of Drake at Cadiz! The Battle of the Nile! The Fighting Temeraire!’ He thumped his desk. ‘Failure is not an option!’

I allowed myself to be caught up in the moment. ‘How can we fail, sir? We’re St Mary’s! We will channel our maritime heritage! We will blow them out of the water! Rule Britannia!’

I have got to stop drinking.

He regarded me silently for a moment and then slumped. ‘I admire your optimism, Dr Maxwell, but they have resources far beyond anything we can muster here. An engineering department …’

‘We have Chief Farrell and Mr Dieter, sir. They can make a flotation device out of a concrete box lined with lead.’

‘… Some of the finest minds in the country …’

‘We have Professor Rapson. A man whose thought processes defy close examination.’

‘… And an apparently limitless supply of cannon fodder. Or the student body, as I suppose we should refer to them.’

‘We have the History Department,’ I said with boundless but groundless confidence. ‘Or, if the worst comes to the worst we can launch Mr Markham as an underwater missile.’ I recklessly knocked back the last of the fire juice. ‘Leave this with me, sir,’ and realised, too late, I’d walked straight into his trap.

I stared, reproachfully, and there was ten seconds of my life I was never going to get back again, because this time there was no response at all. I waited a while, but I think he might have dropped off. I wobbled to my feet and looked for the door. As I left, I could hear Mrs Partridge asking coldly whether she should cancel his afternoon appointments.

Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, I staggered off to Hawking to see Leon, who took one look and shouted for someone to put the kettle on. I sat in his office with him and Dieter and eloquently and succinctly recounted as much as I could remember, adding gestures and doing the voices where appropriate. At the end, they simply stared and Leon said, ‘Dr Bairstow was drunk?’ and it occurred to me that my report might not have been as crystal clear as I had thought. It took yet another cup of tea before they were able to grasp the full impact of my communication.

To my disappointment, they did not immediately leap into action. Dieter stared thoughtfully at the wall, and Leon subjected the floor to close scrutiny. I waited a while, but as far as I could see, the pair of them were very nearly comatose. The Technical Section at work is not a spectator sport. I stood up and headed for the door. As I was leaving, Leon asked if he could borrow Professor Rapson for a while. I indicated my immense enthusiasm for such an action and promised to despatch him forthwith. Then I thought I might have a bit of a lie-down.

I didn’t take the briefing for the Old St Paul’s assignment, although I did attend. Schiller made an excellent job of it. We assembled in the Hall. She stood on the half-landing with the sun lighting up her fair hair. She spoke without notes.

‘Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming. As we’re all aware, our next assignment is a salvage operation – 3
^rd
September 1666. The Great Fire of London and the destruction of Old St Paul’s Cathedral. I shall begin with some background on the cathedral, describe the Great Fire, give details of the pods and teams, and then outline our plan of action. Questions at the end.’

She paused, but everyone was busying themselves scratchpads or notebooks. Eventually, silence fell.

‘Right, old St Paul’s occupies the same site as the new building. It’s fallen into disrepair and disrepute. The interior is used for commercial and social purposes. You could even pick up a prostitute there. The Nave is known as Paul’s Walk and that’s where you’ll find the cream of society strutting their stuff and gossiping and the captains of industry wheeling and dealing. You probably can’t hear yourself pray for the sound of money being made and reputations demolished. Cromwell’s troops used it as stables during the Civil War, which probably didn’t do it any good, either.

‘It couldn’t be more inflammable. Former religious buildings in the churchyard have been sold off to printers and booksellers. If you look at your plans, you will see the nearby churches of St Faiths and St Gregory’s. They will be used to store vast quantities of books. St Faith’s is so stuffed that it burns for a week. It’s never rebuilt.

‘To make things even worse, when it looks as if the fire is heading their way, citizens bring their important papers and household treasures to store inside St Paul’s where they thought they would be safe and so they might have been, but Christopher Wren’s proposed refurbishment means that the entire building is encased in wooden scaffolding. The summer has been long and dry and there’s a stiff wind. It couldn’t have been worse.

‘I’m sorry the interior plans of the cathedral are a little short on detail. We have no clear idea of what to expect once we’re inside. There will probably be very little in the way of religious artefacts or regalia. However, there should be wooden tablets to the memories of Sir Philip Sidney and Walsingham, and there are almost certain to be hangings, vestments, candlesticks, and the like. We’ll just have to do our best.’

She paused for everyone to catch up and I took a moment to think of the tomb of John of Gaunt, destroyed in the fire. I would really have liked to see that. I’ve always been a big Lancastrian fan. Peterson had promised me an image.

She pointed to a street map shown on the big screen above her head. ‘Paternoster Row, Warwick Lane, Old Change, all the cramped lanes and courts surrounding the cathedral go up, too. All of this area will be completely devastated. So be aware of your surroundings at all times.

‘Moving on to the fire itself. The fire breaks out in Pudding Lane on the night of the 1
^st
to the 2
^nd
September. As I said, there’s been a drought. Everything is tinder dry. There’s a strong easterly breeze blowing and St Paul’s is only half a mile from Pudding Lane.

‘King Charles himself, together with his brother, the Duke of York, takes control of the fire-fighting. People are evacuated to Hampstead Heath. The Thames is full of tiny boats, ferrying people to safety. The King orders buildings to be blown up to create firebreaks. They are desperate to contain the fire and stop it spreading across the river. Thirteen thousand houses and ninety-three churches will be destroyed. By some miracle only five people die.

‘By 3
^rd
September, Ludgate Hill is a firestorm and St Paul’s goes up like a torch. According to Evelyn, stones fly like grenades. Melted lead streams down the street. The pavements are red with it. We must be long gone by then.’

She paused again for people to catch up again.

Evans said, ‘For how long does it burn?’

‘Until the 7
^th
September.’

‘Wow!’

‘We’ll be in four teams, taking pods Three, Four, Five, and Eight. Chief Farrell, Mr Peterson, and Mr Roberts will be in Number Three. Major Guthrie, Mr Clerk, and Miss Prentiss in Number Four. Miss Van Owen and Mr Evans and I will be in Number Five and Mr Dieter, Dr Foster, and Mr Sands are in Number Eight which has been designated the medical centre.

‘If you consult your layouts – we will land near Augustine’s Gate, east of the building, work our way around and enter through the Crypt on the north side. Once we enter the building itself, control of the mission passes from me to Major Guthrie. You will obey his commands as if your life depends upon it – which it will. We’ve done this before and we’ve always come back safely so let’s not screw it up now. When Major Guthrie says, “Jump!” your feet should already have left the ground.

‘Once inside, we’ll have to wing it. We have no idea of the contents, or where and how they are stored. We’ll go for small, portable stuff that’s easily shifted. If we get it right, it’s perfectly possible that Londoners will be bringing their treasures through one door and we’re shunting them straight out of the other.’

‘Treasures?’ enquire Evans.

‘Don’t get excited. The treasures of one century are not necessarily those of another. For instance, Samuel Pepys buried his wine and Parmesan cheeses.’

‘Were they ever found?’

‘No idea. The usual rules apply. We stay in our teams. If anyone is hurt, report to Dr Foster
in your teams
. No one wanders off alone. Do not race about like frantic ferrets. Organise yourselves into chains and always stay in sight of each other. And for God’s sake, be aware a cathedral is about to fall on you. Be aware of yourself, your team, and the nearest exit. Study your handouts, plans, and schedules. We go the day after tomorrow. Any questions so far?’

Nope!

‘Right – the second stage. Having loaded everything away, we jump sideways from Old St Paul’s to St Mary’s, where our big pod, TB2 will be waiting in the woods. Most of the Site One team will unload everything into TB2 and return home immediately. The fewer people milling around, the better. Dr Dowson will select his own team for this part of the assignment and from that moment, everyone takes their instructions from him. We’ve chosen St Mary’s because, in 1666, it’s still undergoing rebuilding after a major fire in 1643. As far as we know, the family are not in residence and the workers are billeted in the village. This work will be done at night when we should have a free hand. We will take our time with this. There’s no point in us risking life and limb at St Paul’s and then finding nothing has survived the centuries because we cut corners when we buried it. We bury whatever we’ve managed to retrieve, record the location very carefully, and return to St Mary’s.