Amanda Scott (32 page)

“Those caverns you mentioned, can one reach them from here?”

He nodded. “Some of them. The way down lies yonder, beyond the pit.”

She shuddered as they passed the pit, the entrance to which was no more than a rough hole in the wall barely wide enough to admit a man’s shoulders. The other side was deep and sheer. Once inside, the only way out would be if someone threw a rope down and the prisoner were still strong enough to climb out.

The door Rob opened was set into the rock wall. Before he pulled it open, she had seen no indication of its presence. It swung open silently and with apparent ease. In the meantime, Henry lit a torch. Handing a second, unlighted one to Rob, he led the way with his into the narrow passageway beyond the door.

The air there was dank and still, and Adela found nothing appealing about it. Before they had gone far, she was longing for fresh air and sunshine.

After a while, a second passageway split away to the right from the first one.

“What do you think, Henry?” Rob asked.

“I’ve not been down here in years, Rob. Did you explore at all when you were here before?”

Rob nodded. “I did take a look whilst I was recovering after Waldron’s arrow got me,” he said. “It was my first time alone inside this castle. So, although I was under Hugo’s orders to do naught but rest, it seemed a good opportunity to see if I could learn more about my grandfather’s time here.”

“And?”

“Well, I learned nowt to say this is the area to which the map refers,” he said. “But I didn’t have the map, and I saw nowt to say this is
not
the right place, either.”

“If the square drawn north—or what looks to be north—of the tangle of lines is supposed to be Hawthornden, we should follow the right-hand passage,” Henry said. “That is, if we’re meant to follow my half to start, and if the line that seems to lead to the sword is the one we want to follow. Most of the symbols seem randomly placed, but the sword stands out and it does mark the end of a line.”

“Sakes, Henry,” Rob said. “If neither of us knows what we’re doing down here, we ought to study the map more closely before we start wandering about. We may need to await Hugo’s return. He must know these tunnels better than we do.”

“But if he knows them so well,” Adela said thought-fully, “would he not long since have found what you seek?”

“Aye, sure, if he’d had cause to look for it,” Rob said. “But I’ll wager whatever it is lies well hidden unless one knows the approximate place of concealment and how to recognize some sign of its presence.”

“Aye,” Henry agreed, smiling. “We’ll have to tell you about when Mich—”

“Later,” Rob said. “For now, we should return and plan more carefully how to go about this search. If we can find it quickly, well and good. Otherwise, we’ll await Hugo’s return.”

“But what about Fife? If he comes …” Henry left the rest for them to fill in.

“We’ll just have to deal with him if he does,” Rob said. “But these passages twist and turn about on one another like a devilish maze. If we keep going without any clear understanding of our path, we could wander for days.”

Just the thought sent a chill up Adela’s spine, and she was glad when Henry agreed to return to the castle. Once there, he insisted that he and Rob each make a fair copy of the whole map.

“If we conceal the original bits as before and study the copies, we can cast them on the nearest fire if need be.”

Rob agreed, and Adela left them in Hugo’s chamber to attend to that task and went back to the bedchamber she shared with Rob to tidy herself.

Copying their maps was quickly done and proved useful, because there did seem to be a clear path to the sword on Rob’s half from the square they were hoping was Hawthornden on Henry’s half. Following that course underground by torchlight might prove to be another matter, though, Rob thought.

Bidding farewell to Henry with a promise to meet again on the morrow after both had studied their copies, Rob went in search of Adela and found her standing at the window in their bedchamber, looking out on the western view.

She turned when he entered and said, “Did you ask Henry to stay to supper?”

“Aye, but he wanted to get back, doubtless to put away his maps and tidy himself. I certainly need a wash,” he added, moving to pour water into the basin.

“Tell me more about your grandfather,” she said.

Willingly, he related several tales of his grandfather’s raids on the English, the last of which made her laugh aloud. When she did, he hugged her, and matters progressed satisfactorily for them both from that point.

Afterward, he showed her the copy he had made of the map, and they studied it together but decided at last that, without clearer landmarks, the task of following such a map was going to prove nearly impossible.

The next day when Henry returned while they were breaking their fast in the great hall, Rob suggested warily that the two men might explore more ground together in less time than the three of them would together.

Adela’s lips tightened but she said nothing. Henry, perusing the platters and bowls on the table, ignored the porridge and helped himself to a manchet loaf, a mug of ale, and one of three mutton cutlets on a platter. He, too, said not a word.

“What is it, lass?” Rob asked, knowing full well but hoping she would tell him it was nothing and urge them to go without her.

Instead, and without any regard for Henry’s presence, she stood to face him and said angrily, “What
is
it? You know perfectly well what it is, my lord.”

His own temper stirred. “
Do
I?”

“Aye, sure you do!”

Henry ate placidly, as if he were alone.

Knowing he had overreacted, Rob said more gently, “Adela, lass, this is—”

“Don’t ‘Adela, lass’ me,” she retorted. “One minute you pretend to trust me, the next you want only to keep your precious secrets from me. I vow, sir, I should find it easier if you told me nothing at all.”

“Aye, well, mayhap I should,” he snapped. “Recall that you are my wife and owe me obedience, madam. I’ll decide what I will tell you and what I will not. In the meantime, since you yearn to set this castle to rights, you may start today.”

“May I, indeed?” she demanded furiously, leaning toward him, hands on her hips. “Then you won’t mind if I begin right here!” So saying, she snatched up the bowl still half full of porridge and heaved it at him, following even as he ducked the bowl by heaving a platter after it that still contained two cutlets.

“Here now,” Henry protested. “That’s very good mutton.”

“Leave us, Henry,” Rob ordered.

Henry raised his eyebrows. “Sakes, Rob, I own this place.”

“Then we’ll leave you to your food. I would speak privately with my wife.”

“You do that,” Henry advised. “Then find out what your people have done to this mutton. I like it very much.”

“’Tis no more than rosemary cast on the fire as it cooks, sir,” Adela said.

“Never mind that,” Rob snarled. “You come with me.”

Adela followed him from the hall, filled with remorse. He had provoked her, to be sure, but she had been wrong to throw things. She could only be grateful that neither the bowl nor the platter had struck him. He did have a splatter of porridge and a spot on his jerkin that looked like grease from the mutton, however.

Doubtless she deserved whatever he meant to do to her, and she was sure that this time, he would not be laughing when they reached their bedchamber.

He stopped on the landing outside its door and turned to face her. His expression was solemn. “You should not have done that.”

“No, sir, but you must decide if you can trust me or not. As it is, I never know what to expect, and my anger has increased bit by bit until …”

“I know it is difficult,” he said when she paused. “But some matters are more important than others, more secret, and the trouble is that they all connect in some way or other. It is like pulling a thread and having the whole garment unravel.”

“You say that, but Henry clearly thinks I should know more than I do.” “I am not Henry. And I don’t like things thrown at my head.”

“I
am
sorry for that,” she said sincerely. “I did not know I would throw those things until I did. Truly, I have done such a thing only once before in my life, and I am
not
proud of it. It was a dreadful thing to have done.”

He put a hand to her shoulder and pulled her closer, kissing her lightly on the lips. Then he said, “I’ll forgive you, I expect, but don’t do it again.”

Relieved, she said, “Then I may go with you?”

“Nay, sweetheart, this time we’ll go alone. We don’t know what we’ll find, and I’ll worry less about you if you are here, safe. I’ll tell you if we find anything.”

Knowing he was punishing her and aware that she deserved punishment, she nodded. She could do nothing in any event to change his mind.

Chapter 17

F
or two days Rob and Henry explored together while Adela organized the servants and began a thorough cleaning of the castle from top to bottom. She also persuaded Archie Tayt to help her practice the skills Rob had taught her, and show her how to hold her new dirk and wield it to some effect. Rob’s attitude was affable, but his mind was on the search, and she decided that if she wanted him to trust her, she had to trust him to keep his word if they found anything.

But at the end of the second day, with still no sign of riders from Edinburgh or anything resembling a sword in the caverns beneath the castle, and with Henry’s ship returning to Leith in two days to fetch him, the men had reached an impasse.

“I can give it one more day,” Henry said as they took supper with Adela at the high table. “But if we don’t find it, Rob, you’ll have to wait for Hugo.”

Rob agreed, and later after Henry had ridden back to Roslin, he and Adela went upstairs to their bedchamber. As they were preparing for bed, she said, “Are you still angry with me?”

“Nay, sweetheart. We both gave way to our tempers.”

“Then may I make a copy of your map to study for myself?”

He hesitated, doubting she would see anything that he and Henry had missed.

“Sakes, do you think I’d let anything happen to it? I loathe secrets, sir, but I’d never betray one of yours.”

“I know,” he said.
Not willingly, at all events.
“You are certainly as capable as I am of finding a fire to throw it on if anyone should try to take it from you.”

Still reluctant, despite knowing that she was as unlikely as Henry, Michael, or Hugo to betray him, he fetched paper, quill, and ink for her and watched as she carefully reproduced the fair copy he had made.

She was nearly finished when she said, “What is this bit here, sir? I can’t make out your drawing.”

He looked. “I remember those odd lines. I suspected they were naught but a flaw in the vellum, but they are on my half of the map. Let’s have another look.”

Moments later, she said, “I don’t think that’s a flaw. Might it be a waterfall?”

He frowned, his gaze fixed on three obscure wavy lines on his original half-map. “The ink is faded,” he said. “Moreover, the grain in the vellum may have deceived me, but I think you may be right.”

“Are there any waterfalls in the caves under Hawthornden?”

He shook his head. “Not any that I know about. But several falls spill into the glen, and I’m certain that entrances to other caves exist, too. One thing has plagued me about this the whole time we’ve been searching.”

“What?”

“The size …” He grimaced, then gave his head a shake to clear it.
But it just showed how easily one could slip.
“I own, lass, I still don’t want to tell you all that I’ve been thinking,” he admitted. “I’d like to say I’ve good reason for that other than my dislike of sharing secrets, but I’ll admit that enters into it.”

She sighed. “You said ‘the size,’ so I expect you meant the size of the object you think the map may lead us to is of a size that makes it unlikely to be in the caverns we’ve seen. Why won’t you just tell me what you think it is?”

“Because I’m likely wrong,” he said. “I may have taken details heard over a period of years and added a childish hope to come to my conclusion. If that is what happened, I’ll look a proper dafty, and the Sinclairs will never let me forget it. I’ve told you some of it. Perhaps if I tell you more, you’ll come to the same conclusion.”

“You haven’t told me about the treasure,” she said. “What is it, exactly, and where did it come from?”

ldquo;Get into bed,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’ll put out the other candles.”

Leaving one lighted taper on the stand by the bed, he climbed in beside her, plumped pillows behind them both, then lay back, slipping his good arm around her.

Adela waited patiently as he settled himself, but then he hesitated again until her impatience stirred and she wanted to urge him to get on with it. She held her tongue, though, and at last he said, “Have you heard of the Knights Templar?”

“Aye, sure,” she said, striving to gather her wits. “They existed during the Crusades, did they not? They protected pilgrims traveling to the Holy Land, and the King of Jerusalem housed them in his own palace over King Solomon’s temple. My aunt Euphemia used to tell us stories about them when I was small. But what have Templars to do with you or with the treasure that Waldron sought?”

“The treasure belongs to the Templars. The whole story is too long to tell tonight, but for two hundred years they were the world’s bankers. They guarded valuable items and lent money to nobles and heads of state. In 1307, King Philip of France, having borrowed vast sums from them, decided he did not want to repay what he owed. In a single night’s raid, he arrested many Templars in France and tried to seize their Paris treasury. But most of the Templars escaped, taking all their ships and the treasure with them. At least a portion of that treasure came here to Scotland.”

“But that was long ago,” she said. “What is your part in this tale?”

“My training is that of a Scottish Knight Templar,” Rob said. “Like my grandfather and great-grandfather before me—and like Hugo, Michael, and Henry, too. Sithee, the Sinclairs were among the guardians of the treasure from the outset.”