English Heritage: Time cops

‘Freeze: we’re the Heritage Police!’

The Abbot was perplexed. He had read about this: it was the stuff of Legend amongst the hierarchy of the church.
He hadn’t expected to come across it himself.

Earlier on he had just finished mid-afternoon prayers and had been walking through the dimly lit aisle.
He looked at the shrine of saint Cuthbert. A noise broke his peaceful contemplation. He walked towards the
source of the commotion.

‘Silence, this is the house of God!’ thundered Brother Matthews.

‘Help me, Help me! The Devil himself has visited me, I’m cursed! Cursed I tell ye! Help , Help me!’ the insane
babbling ended in a strangled cry. The Abbot decided to intervene.

‘I hear a troubled Soul entering the house of God,’ boomed the Abbot, a touch ostentatious he thought to himself
but the Peasants seemed to like it, ‘Come Hither for Salvation!’

‘Help me lord for I have been cursed! Save me Lord!’ whimpered the Peasant.

‘Hush my child. Let me look into your eyes! Cast your gaze upon me,’ instructed the Abbot gently.

The Abbot looked at the Peasant. He had straw blond hair, freckles and grey blue eyes. His face was full of
consternation and fear. His bottom lip trembled and spasmed involuntarily.

‘There child: let the love of God enter peacefully into your mind,’ instructed the Abbot further.

The Peasant’s features started to relax. The creases in the forehead vanished. His breathing slowed down.

‘Come, follow me: let’s go into my private Chapel. We can discuss your experience at your leisure,’ explained the
Abbot.

The Abbot’s chapel was small and dark. Tiny candles shone out of the gloom. The Golden crucifix centered in
the middle of the wall opposing the entrance, lit up part of the gloom. A purple velvet clad bench lay in front
of the gloom. A purple velvet clad bench lay in front of the cross the centre of which was worn by the knees of
several Abbots stretching back at least for a couple of hundred years. The Peasant stumbled a little requiring
the Abbot’s firm grip to steady him. The Abbot gestured to the peasant to sit in the corner where there laid a
small wooden stool. In the opposing corner sat a velvet clad wooden throne. The men took to their respective
seats and faced each other.

‘Now child, tell me your name and then about what happened,’ said the Abbot.

‘Well-Well my Lord, My name is Arthur…