Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gundam Wing and the Quest for the Holy Grail ❯ The Town of Motten Bluff ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5: The Town of Motten Bluff

The party traveled three days to return to the large town where they had purchased supplies before going to Ettenmoor Castle. They selected a comfortable inn to house their wounded comrades, forking over enough coin to ensure their comfort and to provide for their return trip to Camelot in a few weeks.

“Do not be distressed about ending your quest so soon, my friends,” Percival assured them. “Remember, the Quest for the Holy Grail is as much about enlightenment as it is about finding the holy relic. Think instead of what you have learned.”

“He sure says that a lot,” Duo murmured to Wu-Fei. “Do you suppose he really means it?”

“Of course he does,” Wu-Fei said. “And I would expect someone of your upbringing to appreciate the sentiment.”

“It sounds like a built-in excuse for failure, if you ask me,” Heero grumbled. “Why go on a quest if you don't plan to succeed?”

“Perhaps this quest is more of a spiritual journey,” Trowa said. “Perhaps Percival measures success in different terms.”

“Hmph!” Heero hmphed.

Although Percival had planned to leave only the four wounded knights behind, a fifth, Sir Holwith, elected to end his quest and remain with the injured, “to provide for their comfort,” he said. Percival accepted this at face value, until they were on the road once more.

“I do not wish to seem uncharitable,” said Percival, “but I have always had the impression that Sir Holwith is somewhat lacking in the courage I would expect to see in a typical knight.”

“You mean he's a coward,” Heero stated flatly.

Percival looked a little guilty. “Well, I would not want to put it in such blunt terms,” he replied. “He did join the fight in Ettenmoor.”

“Two dozen against one ogre might seem favorable odds even to a coward,” Heero answered.

“Perhaps.” Percival shook his head. “Nevertheless, I am disappointed he chose not to go on.”

“I'm not!” Hagrimore announced. “I agree with Sir Heero. The man's a coward. We're better off without him.”

Although several knights immediately echoed Hagrimore, a few others exchanged nervous glances. Noting that, Quatre frowned.

“I think we'd be better off if a few more of this lot had decided to stay with Holwith,” Quatre muttered to Trowa.

“Don't worry about it,” Trowa said. “If we run into any more trouble like that ogre, I daresay we'll lose a few more of them.”

“One can only hope.”

They arrived in Motten Bluff four days later. It was a thriving town of perhaps five hundred residents, surrounded by farms and pastures. It was pleasant, except when the wind blew from the west, carrying a faint odor of rotting vegetation. The town was indeed situated on a bluff and it was dominated by a large stone church, whose towering steeple was the highest point for miles around.

A few blocks from the church was a large inn, which everyone agreed looked like a good place to stop.

“Mayhap the innkeeper will be able to answer some of our questions,” Percival said.

He could.

“You oughtn't to be asking decent folk about the Secret Room,” Mister Burnberry, the innkeeper, exclaimed. “It's cursed and even to talk of it is bad luck.”

“But it's in the church!” Duo exclaimed. “How can a room in a church be cursed?”

“Well, you'll have to ask the priest that,” Mister Burnberry said. “But it's bad luck, all the same.”

“But the room's locked, isn't it?” Trowa asked carefully.

“Aye, and the door hidden to keep folk safe.”

“So the priest has the key,” Trowa said.

Mister Burnberry squinted at him suspiciously. “Nay, the key is hidden away for safekeeping, so I've heard. Why would you want to know where the key is?”

“Oh, I don't!” Trowa assured him quickly. “I was just curious. But say, on the way into town we noticed a bit of a smell.”

“Oh, that.” The innkeeper shrugged. “It's just the bog. When the wind is right, you can smell it from here.”

“It's not close, then.”

“It's a day's ride, but no one goes there. If you don't know you're way about, you can get sucked right down into the mud and disappear.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Are there any landmarks that mark the edge of it? Being travelers, I'd sure hate for us to blunder into it by accident.” Trowa winked at the others.

“Oh, you can't miss it!” Mister Burnberry laughed. “The smell alone will warn you off.”

“Are there hills or anything around it?”

“A few. But you'd do well to steer clear of them. I've heard tell that ghouls live there, feasting on the flesh of them as get stuck in the bog.”

“Ghouls?!” Duo demanded. “Flesh-eating ghouls?”

“Is there another kind?” the innkeeper asked with a hearty chuckle. “Now, what can I get you gentlemen for supper?”

When the innkeeper had bustled off to see about their meal, Percival looked mournful.

“This seems more intractable than the ogre,” Percival said.

“I think we need to ask around some more,” Heero said. “We need to know more about the bog and its environs.”

“I agree,” said Trowa. “I don't believe this story about the ghouls.”

“Says you,” Duo complained. “A week ago I didn't believe in ogres either.”

“I think we had better keep quiet about why we want to explore the bog,” Quatre said. “From what the innkeeper said, we don't want anyone to know what we're looking for there.”

“A good idea,” agreed Hagrimore. “We'll have trouble enough finding what we seek, without a town full of superstitious locals trying to keep us out of the church.”

The inn served thick tasty meat pies and big bowls of meat and onion stew, along with fresh-baked bread and large tankards of foaming ale.

Wu-Fei and Roku stuck to water with their meals.

Roku ate a meat pie, getting gravy everywhere. Quatre watched him in complete dismay.

“I don't think I've ever seen him that filthy!” Quatre exclaimed.

“His stripes seem to have disappeared,” Trowa remarked.

“He is not sleeping with us unless he bathes,” Quatre said.

“I doubt he'll mind,” said Trowa. “In fact, I sometimes suspect he does it on purpose, so we'll have to bathe him.”

After dinner, Quatre and Trowa took Roku to the inn's bathing room to clean him up. Since this was a quality inn, there was a boy assigned to heat the bath water and fill the tubs for guests. He seemed rather dumbfounded at being ordered to fill up a tub for a tiger cub, but he was giggling by the time Roku's bath was finished. Quatre and Trowa were almost as wet as Roku.

“You like getting me wet when you bathe, don't you Roku?” Quatre grumbled as he tumbled Roku about in a towel to dry him.

Roku growled back, trying to get his feet under him.

“Hold still, dammit!”

Trowa caught Roku under the chin and dutifully dried his face with another towel.

Roku snapped at him playfully.

“Quit it!” Trowa rapped him on the nose good-naturedly. “You know, I'm curious about something. Does the stuff in your storage place get wet when you take a bath?”

Roku stopped in mid-snap and looked thoughtful. “I don't think water can get in there.”

“Well, that's good to know.”

Quatre lifted an eyebrow at Trowa.

Trowa looked innocent. “I just wanted to know.”

“It's bedtime!” Quatre said sternly.

“Will you tell me a story, Papa Trowa?”

“Of course.”

The three of them went upstairs. As usual, the members of the quest had taken several rooms, grouping themselves as had become customary. Trowa, Quatre and Roku stayed together, as did Heero, Duo and Wu-Fei. The other knights roomed together as their finances and circumstances allowed, although it was common for Percival, Hagrimore and Damodin to share a room, unless Damodin got lucky, in which case he slept elsewhere.

In the morning, Trowa suggested they split up and tackle both problems at once.

“We need to locate the Secret Room in the church without anyone figuring out what we're after, so I suggest a small group go interview the local priest, while the rest of us go to Beardley Bog to look for the Cave of the Hermit.”

“That is a sound suggestion,” Percival agreed. “Which of us should approach the priest?”

“It should be people with some sense of subtlety,” Quatre said, “so that let's out Heero and Duo.”

The two named gentlemen regarded Quatre with sour expressions.

“I agree,” said Wu-Fei, and he received similar looks.

“I suggest Sir Percival, Sir Damodin, Master Quatre and Master Trowa take the church,” said Hagrimore. “Although Master Quatre's sorcerer's skills are useful in a pinch, I'm inclined to think brute force may be sufficient in tackling whatever is to be found in the bog.”

The other knights nodded in agreement, although a few looked less than confident.

“Very well,” Percival said. “That will be our plan.”

“We'll probably be gone for a couple of days, if the bog is as far away as the innkeeper said,” Heero remarked.

“Mama, may I go with Papa Duo?” Roku asked.

Quatre looked horrified.

“I want to see the bog. It smells interesting.”

“But they'll be gone for days, sweetie,” Quatre said, trying to sound reasonable.

“No more than three,” Heero said calmly. “Four at the outside.”

Quatre gave Heero a you're-not-helping look.

“He's not a baby anymore, Quatre,” Trowa said. “He'll be fine.”

Quatre frowned. “I'm not ready…” he mumbled.

“Please, Mama?” Roku managed to make his eyes look twice as big as normal.

Quatre put a hand over his face. “Fine! You can go with them.” He fixed Heero, Duo and Wu-Fei with a stern glare. “You better take good care of him.”

“He'll be safe as houses!” Duo assured him.

“Could someone else reassure me, please?” Quatre moaned plaintively.

Roku hopped into Quatre's lap and licked his face. Quatre put his arms around him.

“You listen to Papa Wu-Fei and do as you're told, ok?” Quatre said.

“Ok, Mama.”

“He says that like I'd tell Roku to do something stupid,” Heero complained with offended dignity.

“Don't take it personally. Separation anxiety can be brutal,” Duo said sagely.

Quatre glared at him.

After breakfast, the group bound for the Cave of the Hermit bought supplies, packed up and left for Beardley Bog.

The remaining four wandered casually over to the church. They circled around it, examining the structure from the outside. The church was constructed in the typical cross style, with the steeple rising up from the crossing.

“I'm not an architect,” Quatre said, “but I think this building has been expanded at least twice.”

“What makes you think that?” Percival asked.

“Well, I can see two different kinds of stone used in the construction. The walls of the nave and the lower part of the steeple look much older. The edges of the stone in the transept and the sanctuary walls aren't as worn. And it looks like the inner corners of the crossing have been reinforced, perhaps to support the extension of the steeple.”

“I see what you mean,” Percival said. “You've a good eye.”

“I wish there was a way to measure the exterior without attracting attention,” Trowa said thoughtfully.

“Are you thinking the Secret Room might have been added during the expansion?” Quatre asked.

“That would have been a good time to do it.”

They walked back to the entrance and entered the church. Percival and Damodin both dipped their fingers in the font and crossed themselves before continuing down the aisle. The big wooden door boomed shut behind them and a priest stepped out from the sanctuary behind the altar.

“Welcome, my sons, to the Church of Motten Bluff,” the priest said. “I am Father William. How may I be of service to you?”

Father William was a middle-aged man whose fringe of hair around his balding pate had gone gray. The plumpness of age was catching up with him, but he was not yet fat. He came partway down the aisle to meet them between the pews.

“Good day to you, Father,” Percival greeted him. “We find ourselves at loose ends in these parts for a few days and we were fascinated to discover a House of the Lord of such impressive dimensions in a town of this size.”

Father William beamed with delight. “We are perhaps a bit too proud of our church here in Motten Bluff, but it is one of the finest you'll find in all of England.”

“Have you time to tell us of its history?” Damodin asked.

“It would be my pleasure!” Father William said eagerly. He clearly loved to talk about his church and proceeded to give them a detailed history of its construction, which bore out Quatre's observations. Father William also recounted the life stories of several of his predecessors, including the unfortunate Father Valentine, who was prone to fits of madness that ultimately made him unfit to serve as parish priest. But it had been during Valentine's tenure that the height of the steeple had been increased.

“That was quite an undertaking, according to accounts from that time,” Father William told them with great excitement. “They employed the very latest engineering techniques. It is said they dug new foundations for the steeple without disturbing the church walls!”

“Fascinating!” Trowa said. He and Quatre exchanged a glance.

“What compelled Father Valentine to commission such a risky expansion?” Percival asked.

“Well, that part is less clear,” Father William admitted. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Father Valentine claimed he had a holy vision instructing him to heighten the steeple, but as his fits of madness also gave him visions, less charitable souls were prone to cast doubt, especially when the expansion became quite expensive.” Father William looked unhappy. “It is these same people, I believe, who started the rumor that a Secret Room was constructed in the church at that time.”

Percival, Damodin, Quatre and Trowa looked at each other in surprise.

“A Secret Room, you say?” said Percival.

“Aye, but I don't believe it,” Father William replied. “I've served in this church for twelve years and have never come across anything like that.”

“But why would anyone start such a rumor?” Quatre asked.

“Well…” Father William looked even more unhappy. “Many people believed Father Valentine was possessed. There is an old record of an exorcism being performed on an unknown person in the sanctuary right before Father Valentine left the parish, just after the new steeple was completed. People claim the exorcised demon was walled into a Secret Room under the church, and that it's still there.”

“A walled-up room?” exclaimed Damodin. “As in a room with no doors?”

“Precisely. But you mustn't speak of this,” Father William said worriedly. “The local people believe the Secret Room is cursed.”

“Of course we will say nothing, Father,” Percival assured him gravely. “Too often one finds local superstition carries greater weight than proven fact.”

“Very true.”

“You have given us a fascinating history, Father William. We are most grateful.”

“You are quite welcome, my sons, but it seems I have done so much talking, I have failed to ask your names.”

The four introduced themselves and Father William's face lit up at the mention of Camelot.

“Oh, good sirs!” Father William exclaimed. “Will you not share the latest news from court?”

Percival smiled broadly. “Although we have been gone from there some weeks, mayhap we know a story or two that has not yet reached these parts.” He proceeded to regale the priest with tales of the latest doings in Camelot, while Quatre, Trowa and Damodin began to explore the interior of the church.

“Look at this,” Trowa murmured to Quatre as they stood in the corner where the southern transept met the sanctuary. A full-sized statue of the Virgin Mary stood in a recess embedded in the corner. “Does it look to you like the recess behind this statue is rather deep?”

“Yes it does.” Quatre stepped into the transept, where a stairway into the steeple started. “It seems like it extends behind the stairs.”

“You're smaller; see if you can get back there.”

Quatre wriggled behind the statue. “There are no openings, but there's a little niche in the wall back here, under the stairs.” He slipped back out. “There's room enough for a doorway, though.”

Damodin joined them. “Did you find something?”

“Possibly,” Quatre replied. “Let's get out of here before the priest gets suspicious.”

Percival was just wrapping up an abridged version of the story of Jean-Pierre Galvoisin de Croix Vert when the others rejoined him.

Father William was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “That must have been a sight to see!” he said.

“It was indeed,” said Percival. “But here, we have taken up your whole day, Father. Thank you most kindly for your time.”

“You are quite welcome, my sons. Please come again.”

Outside the church, Percival scrubbed a hand over his face. “At our next stop, I will have to go to confession. That felt far too much like lying. And to a man of the cloth no less!”

“But you did well, Sir Percival,” Quatre said. “We think we found the entrance to the Secret Room.”

“That is good news. Perhaps it mitigates my sin a little.” He did not look as if he thought so.

“I just hope the others are as fortunate,” said Damodin.

“Me too,” said Trowa. He put his arm around Quatre's shoulders. “What are you doing after dinner, little wizard, now that our son's gone camping with his dads?”

Quatre smiled. “I was thinking of going to bed early.”

“Oh, really?” said Trowa, smiling back. “So was I.”