A Trace of Memory. Keith Laumer
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shook his head. “It were ended in my granfer’s time, it being that the Queen were a teetotaller.”
“How did it acquire the curious name—‘The Ancient Sinner?’”
“The tale is,” the publican said, “that one day a lay brother of the order were digging about yonder on the plain by the great stones, in search of the Druid’s treasure, albeit the Abbot had forbid him to go nigh the heathen ground, and he come on the bones of a man, and being of a kindly turn, he had the thought to give them Christian burial. Now, knowing the Abbott would nae permit it, he set to work to dig a grave by moonlight in holy ground, under the monastery walls. But the Abbott, being wakeful, were abroad and come on the brother a-digging, and when he asked the why of it, the lay brother having visions of penances to burden him for many a day, he ups and tells the Abbott it were a ale cellar he were about digging, and the Abbott, not being without wisdom, clapped him on the back, and went on his way. And so it was the ale-house got built, and blessed by the Abbott, and with it the bones that was laid away under the floor beneath the ale-casks.”
“So the ancient sinner is buried under the floor?”
“Aye, so the tale goes, though I’ve not dug for him meself. But the house has been knowed by the name these four hundred years.”
“Where was it you said the lay brother was digging?”
“On the plain, yonder, by the Druid’s stones, what they call Stonehenge,” the publican said. He picked up the empty glasses. “What about another, gentlemen?”
“Certainly,” Foster said. He sat quietly across from me, his features composed—but I could see there was tension under the surface calm.
“What’s this all about?” I asked softly. “When did you get so interested in local history?”
“Later,” Foster murmured. “Keep looking bored.”
“That’ll be easy,” I said. The publican came back and placed heavy glass mugs before us.
“You were telling us about the lay brother’s finding the bones,” Foster said. “You say they were buried in Stonehenge?”
The publican cleared his throat, glanced sideways at Foster.
“The gentlemen wouldna be from the University now, I suppose?” he said.
“Let’s just say,” Foster said easily, smiling, “that we have a great interest in these bits of lore—an interest supported by modest funds, of course.”
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