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  First Published September 4 2000

Judge for yourselves the value of the stories about the golden altar, the murder and hauntings by the dead cleric's lover.

Rodbourne Cheney is centuries older than the borough of Swindon - the Express man referred to it as 'a peaceful village' and its church as the axle of a wheel of tunnels. Here's a summary of the story which appeared in the Daily Express early in 1930:

A STONE staircase in the church, at present bricked up owing to foul gases from underground, leads to a tunnel which after a few yards branches into four passages. One leads to Rodbourne Manor House, another to the ruins of Blunsdon Abbey, a third to a farmhouse at Rodbourne, and the fourth in the direction of Lydiard Tregoze.

This is believed to lead to Lydiard Park, the historic residence of Lord Bolingbroke. It is in one of the tunnels that Mr Reede, the verger of St Mary's church, hopes to find the golden altar which the monks of St Mary's hid from despoiling hands at the time of the Reformation.

Local tradition is strong that this altar is hidden underground. Mr Reede showed me some medieval pottery, glass and ancient earrings which he has discovered in one of the tunnels. He said he had refused an offer of £25 for one small object.

I motored over to the picturesque ruins of Blunsdon Abbey where, guided by Mr Reede, I found one of the exits from the tunnels blocked with rubble and overgrown with brambles. Here I learned of the ghost of St Ferdinande Blunt's wife who, before her marriage, saw her lover, the curate of the parish, murdered at the old rectory nearby.

New knowledge of the secret tunnels with which the vicinity is riddled now associates the murder with the sinister hidden approach. The villagers always, on October 20, shun the rectory gardens where the ghost of Lady Blunt is supposed to appear.

The Manor House, at present the residence of the Rev Vernon Herford, a regionary bishop of the Evangelical Catholic Communion, forms another terminus to one of these mysterious tunnels. Mr Herford turned over the ground with a spade to show me where the vaulted roof of the tunnel passed under his ground.

'It comes up in the cellar,' he said. 'But the entrance is sealed. 'My housekeeper tells me that when sitting in the house on Sundays she has frequently heard the strains of the church organ coming through the floor.'

Finally I met an old farm labourer, who laughed grimly at the treasure hunt. 'Aye, I heard my father talk of the golden altar. It may be underground there,' he said.

'But there will be a curse on those who dig for it. The old monk who buried the treasure knew a thing or two'.

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