Forbidden Legacy (12 page)

Outrage poured through him. For years he'd served Jacques de Molay. If true, why hadna the Grand Master informed him of these important facts before he'd sailed?

As quickly, Stephan's frustration fled. Busy making preparations for the entire Templar fleet to slip from the port of La Rochelle prior to the eve of Friday the thirteenth, the Grand Master didna have time to explain every detail of his plans.

God's blade, how many other castles existed with a maze of tunnels below built to store Templar goods? With the imminent arrest of the Brotherhood, nay doubt Jacques de Molay had sent any remaining documentation of Templar strongholds with the other knights who had fled, or tossed them into the flames. God forbid if any of the Brotherhood's records fell into King Philip's hands.

Shaken at the dire possibility, Stephan glanced toward his wife, despising the question but needing to ask it. “Lady Katherine, did your father ever fight in a Crusade?”

She frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Did he?” Stephan repeated, damning his impatience.

“Several years ago he sailed to Armenia, something to do with La Roche-Guillaume. I was never told more.”

La Roche-Guillaume, the last Templar stronghold within the holy land. A precarious foothold lost to the Muslims at the time of her father's visit. Stephan shot a knowing glance at Thomas and several other knights within hearing; his men's eyes were dark with questions, ones he wished answered as well. “Are there records of your father's travels?”

“Aye, he kept detailed notes of his every voyage. They are stored in a separate ledger alongside a book with all the family records. Unless,” she whispered with dread, “the English have discovered these documents.”

God forbid. Stephan's hand trembled as he lifted the torch. The halved and culled stone entry was a fine example of Templar ingenuity. Aside from the reminders of her family's slaughter, neither did it bode well that all indications pointed to her father being a supporter of the Knights Templar. The last thing he wanted was to discover any admirable trait about a man who'd butchered his family.

Irritated, Stephan surveyed the large opening. “I see but the one tunnel. Onboard you said there were three, entries we'd planned to use for a coordinated attack.”

“Once inside, a short way ahead this tunnel seems to end. Behind another false wall, the one passage splits into three. Only those who know where they are will find them. The one on the left leads to the walls behind the bedchambers, the middle ends at the dungeon. They are smaller than the main shaft, which will take you to the chapel.”

“The chapel?” Stephan asked, finding the destination curious yet appropriate.

“Aye. If ever Avalon came under siege, whoever rang the church bell to sound the alert could slip inside the tunnel to help the others escape. Except,” Katherine said, her words unraveling to a whisper, “on the night of the attack.”

“What happened?” Stephan asked, nae wanting to unearth memories of her witnessing her parents' deaths. But every bit of information offered insight, facts that could be useful during the upcoming assault.

Her lower lip trembled. “Unbeknownst to my father, a traitor lived within the castle. On the night of the attack, he killed the men on guard. Then he lowered the drawbridge and allowed the English knights entry. Near midnight, the English murdered many of our brave knights while they slept and seized the stronghold with minimal resistance.”

Sickened by the man's treachery, by all that Katherine had been forced to endure, Stephan lay his hand atop hers. “Once we seize Avalon, identify the betrayer.”

She swallowed hard. “He is dead, killed by the English during the attack.”

A fitting punishment. Another worry slid through his mind. “You are confident that the English didna see you escape?”

“Aye. I crept behind the guard outside my door, knocked him on the head, and then left my door ajar before slipping into the tunnel. When the English discovered I was missing, I wanted them to assume I had had help.”

Pride touched Stephan. “Impressive.”

A blush swept her face. “My actions were those any member of my family would have taken if they had lived.”

A rueful smile touched Stephan's lips. Even if the English had suspected there were secret tunnels, without knowledge of the ways the Templars used to disguise hidden doors, they never would have found them.

He glanced toward a nearby knight. “Return to the galley. Inform each captain that we are ready to attack. Warn those remaining onboard to keep a close watch on the surrounding rocks and waterways for any indication of the enemy. Though we searched for signs of English troops during our approach, I willna take any chance that archers are positioned for an ambush.”

“Aye,” the man replied.

“Once the castle is seized and 'tis safe,” Stephan continued, “we will signal with three rings of the bell. If the ship's crew hears five or more, 'tis a warning that our plans have gone awry and they must prepare for our return and a quick escape.”

With a nod, the knight headed back.

Stephan faced Katherine. “The catacombs you mentioned to the king: how many are there?”

Within the torchlight, red swept up her cheeks. “I am aware they ex-exist but . . .”

Irritation swept over him as he remembered her earlier ignorance of the local currents. Nay, she had to know. Unless . . . He exhaled a rough sigh. “But nae more?”

Her blush deepened.

Temper slid through him. An important detail she'd kept from Robert Bruce to ensure she sailed to Avalon. With or without a map, he would find all hidden entries beneath the stronghold.

“Then,” Stephan said, his voice cool, “lead us to where the tunnel separates.”

Dirt crunched beneath Katherine's slippers as she started along the torchlit path.

Stephan followed. The musty odor, owing to the cavern's infrequent use, assured him the Englishmen remained ignorant of these routes.

After a short distance, the passageway began to widen. At the next turn, the tunnel ended.

She opened the entry. Anxiety in her eyes, Katherine gestured to a well-crafted wooden ladder that disappeared into a darkened chute. “At the end is a trapdoor.”

Stephan nodded. “Is the hatch locked?”

“Aye,” she replied. “From underneath. I barred it when I left, slid a stone to the side beneath into place. Usually 'tis left unsecured, but I refused to take a chance of anyone discovering the tunnel.”

His mouth tightened. “Where does the door open in the chapel?”

“Behind a large statue in the back,” she replied. “'Twill allow you to enter unseen. With night upon us, the knights should be abed, their locations within the castle as I explained onboard. The moon being almost full should give us an advantage as we move about.”

Large boulders sat on either side of the ladder. With a grimace, Stephan gestured to each. “The hidden entries to the other tunnels?”

She nodded.

“Where are the levers to open them?”

“On the side of each large stone you will notice two smaller rocks, appearing as if set haphazard on the floor. Each bears a small
X
with a hook on the top of one of the lines,” she explained. “Behind them is a stone slab like the ones I removed before. As with the others, a ring connected to a forged rod lies within. Once withdrawn, the door will open.”

“Is there anything more we should know?” Stephan asked. The
X
with a hook was a Templar mark.

Her brow furrowed. “Nay.”

Stephan nodded to Cailin. “Take Lady Katherine back to the ship.”

K
atherine's eyes narrowed. “I
will
stay and fight to reclaim my home!”

Stephan expected his wife's anger. Once her temper abated, she would see the wisdom of his decision. “You will return to the ship. It has been decided.”

“Decided?” she repeated, her voice deadly calm.

“A woman's place isna in battle. You will return with Cailin of your own accord or be carried.”

With a look of disgust, she glanced toward her escort.

Cailin remained motionless, his expression unreadable.

Her blue eyes leveled on Stephan. “I trained aboard ship to fight.”

“You did.” Stephan crossed his arms. “A few days of sparring hardly prepares anyone for the harsh realities of battle.”

“I have been taught to wield a blade since my youth.”

Stephan remained silent. Her skill with a weapon, though passable, wouldna keep her alive against those who lived by the sword.

“All along, as I trained,” she seethed, “you allowed me to believe that when we attacked I would fight.”

“Never did I say you would join us. That you crafted in your mind.” He paused. “Neither should you forget that your presence onboard was allowed due to your deception to our king.”

Guilt flickered in her gaze. “Mayhap, but in my place you would have done the same.”

“Dinna toss the blame for your ruse elsewhere. You will go. Neither I nor my men need your presence to distract us. Choose how you will return to the ship.”

Fury blazed in her eyes, outrage that, if it could have touched the earth, would have scorched the ground. Katherine stepped back. “I will return to the ship. On my own.”

The lass was desperate to exact revenge, the extremes she'd used to return to Avalon proof of it. “Once the battle ends you will be allowed inside the castle.”

* * *

Katherine strode toward the exit of the tunnel, the crash of waves battering the rocks growing louder ahead. The angry flicker of torchlight along the scarred walls matched her own.

The arrogant, pompous . . .

Was her husband right? Had she shifted her anger at those who'd murdered her family to Stephan, whose goal from the first was to achieve the task given to him by their king? From the unwanted marriage to being forced to take her with him when they'd sailed, his life had been tossed upside down. Like hers.

Still, he didna comprehend the importance of her being part of Avalon's recapture. 'Twas more than a castle lost in war to England. After the Earl of Preswick had seized her home, he'd forced her to witness her family murdered. By his own hand, the English noble had made this her vendetta.

Distant shouts erupted behind them.

Her heart pounding, she stared down the blackened shaft. “They have begun the attack!”

Cailin muttered a curse. “'Tis too early. There must have been Englishmen in the chapel who saw them as they entered.”

Mary have mercy! “They will need every man to fight.”

“I was charged with escorting you to the ship, my lady. A task I will accomplish.”

“Sir Cailin, go. I am safe in the tunnel.”

Beneath the torchlight, red brows wedged into a frown. The knight hesitated, and then he shot her a cool look. “Dinna move.”

Katherine remained silent.

Worry clouding his eyes, the warrior lifted the torch, and then bolted toward the clash of blades.

She waited a moment, then another. Katherine started after him. Hesitated. She had a right to join the men. Shoving aside her doubts, she ran back down the tunnel.

Familiar with the passage, guided by the flickers of distant torchlight, she pushed on. A short distance ahead, light from overhead brightened the gloom. She reached the bottom of the ladder leading to the chapel.

Overhead, the scrape of steel rang out, melded with screams and rough-hewn curses.

Images of the Englishmen slaughtering her father's knights filled her mind. Katherine stayed the urge to retch. Furious at her weakness, she placed her foot on the step. Every sword was needed. She began to climb.

The wing tip of an angel painted on the chapel ceiling came into view.

She hurried up. Near the top of the ladder, scrapes of steel, grunts of men, and the slam of metal against wood echoed with ferocious intent.

Through the opening, a blade swept past. Brutal shadows blackened the images of faith upon the ceiling, depicting the struggle of life against death playing out within the sanctity of the chapel.

Stephan's warning that her presence would distract him and his men had Katherine hesitating. Never did she wish to cost any man his life for her pride.

Pride.

She swallowed hard, the battle above a gruesome backdrop to the truth. 'Twas more than the English noble's making it her vendetta but pride that had her daring to offer ultimatums to a king, and pride that had convinced her to marry a stranger. If she were honest, her every action had been driven by her need to avenge her family's murder.

Reason blurred her mind until it tumbled to the truth. Lost to her need for vengeance, she'd nae considered the lives that could be lost.

Because of her.

Shaken, she moved down a rung. Her husband's instructions to keep away from the battle were nae because he didna care but because he did. Humbled, she moved her foot to the next step.

“Stephan, behind you!” Thomas yelled from above.

Pulse racing, she climbed to the top, peered out.

Sword raised, Thomas cursed, bolted from view.

Was Stephan hurt? Terrified for his life, she climbed two steps.

The opening remained empty.

What was she doing? She should return to the ship. Katherine started to go down.

Her husband's pain-filled curse rang out.

A thud.

She had to know if he was alive! Trembling, Katherine climbed to the rim, peered out.

Across the room, Stephan rolled to a halt on the floor. Blood streaming from his shoulder, his face a mask of anger and pain, he pushed to his knees.

Framed by a figure of Mary hanging on the wall behind him, an English knight lunged toward her husband.

Stephan lifted his blade, fended off the blow. He struggled to his feet. Swayed.

Terrified for his life, Katherine scanned the chapel. Every one of his knights fought off attackers, some battling two men or more. Without help, weakened from his loss of blood, Stephan would die!

Lost to every thought but saving him, ensuring she kept out of sight, Katherine crawled behind the statue and then stood. Trembling, she withdrew her sword.

Another man charged Stephan from his left.

Her husband whirled, used his blade to shove the man back.

The Englishman to his right swung.

A line of blood cut across Stephan's side. He stumbled back, steadied himself. Barely.

The knight charged.

Her husband drove his sword into the attacker, plunged his dagger in the other man.

With a shout, another Englishman stepped over his dead comrades, attacked.

Steel screamed as Stephan deflected his blade, swung his sword in a tight circle, jerked free, and drove his weapon into the man's heart.

Shock and pain etched the Englishman's face.

Muscles bunched, Stephan withdrew his sword, whirled to meet the next aggressor.

Two men charged.

* * *

Ignoring the pain, the stickiness at his side, Stephan ducked, angled his sword into the first knight, shifted, plunged his weapon into the chest of another.

“We are outnumbered more than ten to one,” Thomas called as he fought paces away. “We canna allow the knights outside to break through the door.”

“Aye. The bastard was standing on the corner of the hatch as I raised it,” Stephan spat. “Before I could kill him, he alerted the others.”

“Aye, 'tis bloody luck Rónán was able to bar the chapel door,” Thomas said.

Stephan engaged the next attacker. Swords screamed as they met. He twisted his weapon, locked his hilt with the assailant. As the man fought to break his hold, Stephan slid his dagger across the knight's throat.

Face crumpled with pain, the Englishman collapsed.

Another boom sounded on the thick hewn door.

Stephan cursed at the cracks in the center of the sturdy wood; with each blow a gap large enough for a man to slip inside had formed. An entry the English were taking advantage of.

A solid thud.

Wood splintered from the center, several shards as large as an ax.

God's blade. Another hit, two, and the entire door would give way. Stephen damned the decision to withdraw, that their element of surprise had been usurped. As he turned toward the next attacker, he caught the flash of gold hair from near the statue.

Katherine!

God's blade, didna the lass realize the danger she'd placed herself in? “Surround Lady Katherine!” Stephan roared as he drove his sword into an oncoming Englishman and bolted toward her.

Two English knights rushed in her direction.

Eyes fierce, she raised her blade, deflected the first attack, shifted to meet the other.

Malice flickered in the Englishman's eyes. “The Earl of Preswick will be pleased by your return, my lady.”

“Go to Hades!” She angled her blade toward his heart.

The knight blocked her swing.

Alarm paled her face as she withdrew her weapon, prepared for another strike.

Another Englishman caught her from behind.

Stephan drove his dagger into the man's chest, threw him aside.

Thomas finished his man off, whirled toward the next aggressor.

Stephan glared at Katherine while his knights formed a tight circle around them. The clash of steel rang out as they battled. “You will return to the tunnel now!”

Her eyes wide with fear, she shook her head. “I was going to return to the ship, but you were hurt. Nay one was there and I—”

Shouts echoed around them.

Englishmen charged.

The sting of steel bit into his left shoulder. Furious he hadna withdrawn the men in time, Stephan ignored the stream of blood, shoved his sword into the man.

Blades hissed as quickly as curses as his men backed up, Katherine safe within their circle.

A crash sounded at the entry.

Dread crawling through him, Stephan glanced over.

Shards of wood dangled where the large door had hung. English knights stormed inside.

“Griogair,” Stephan yelled through the scream of blades, “ring the bell five times!”

A tall, black-haired knight grabbed a nearby rope, pulled.

Deep notes resounded through the chapel.

* * *

At the emergency signal they'd discussed onboard ship, panic rolled through Katherine. “Stephan wants the men to withdraw?”

“We are outnumbered at least twenty to one,” Thomas replied, his every word harsh as he caught her shoulder, hauled her toward the tunnel. “We must return to the galley, regroup, and plan another strategy.”

With a nod, she followed. At her next step, she glanced back.

Stephan had braced himself against the wall and was battling four knights, the distance between him and any of his men widening to at least fifteen paces.

The Templar cast the rope to the bell aside and moved to help shield her, the long, deep rings resonating within the chapel like an ill omen.

With each step closer to the tunnel, armed knights continued to pour into the sanctuary, widening the gap between Stephan and any hope of his reaching them.

“Thomas,” she called, “we must help Stephan before it is too late!”

Grief blazed in his eyes. “When the English broke the door, too many knights moved between Stephan and the rest of us to allow him to follow, a fact he understands,” he rasped, his every word anguished. “He fights to lure the English toward him to ensure your escape, a decision any of us would have made if we had stood in his stead.”

Stephan knew he was going to die? Guilt overwhelmed Katherine. Furious at herself, damning that 'twas her actions that had led to this horrific moment, she shook her head. “I willna allow him to make such a decision!”

“He told us to protect you,” Thomas rasped, “and by God, 'tis what we shall do.” With a firm hand on her shoulder, the Scottish knight hauled her into his arms and carried her down the ladder.

In rapid succession, his men followed.

* * *

Weakened by the blood lost, his vision beginning to blur, Stephan kept the three closest attackers engaged.

The last of his men moved out of sight.

The trapdoor slid closed.

The scrape of the bolt sounded.

Safe, thank God! They would reach the ship, sail away, and make plans for another attack.

Four more Englishmen moved toward him.

Stephan shoved his blade into the man closest to him, jerked it free. He swept out his foot, throwing the second man to the floor, then reached out, caught the third one's arm.

With a curse, the Englishman slammed to the splinter-strewn floor.

Before the two men could move, Stephan slashed both men's throats. As he started to turn, pain tore through his injured shoulder.

“Thought you would slip away from us, did you?” an English knight spat as his blade swung toward him.

Out of pure reaction, Stephan rammed his sword up. Steel clashed; the knight maintained his grip. Bedamned!

Another man caught Stephan's arm, jerked him back. Pain exploded in his face. The chamber around him spun.