Authors: Knights Treasure
“Why was the chevalier in town?” Adela asked. “We left him at the Castle.”
“Apparently, he was attempting to call on you,” Henry said. “He went to Clendenen House whilst the countess was still with Ealga, but they sent him away, saying you had retired and it was too late for callers, in any event.”
“It was certainly late,” Rob said.
“Aye, but their wee lie may somewhat complicate matters,” Henry said.
“How so?”
“I sent one of my lads to learn what he could before he followed us to Roslin. He caught up to us just as we reached home and told me de Gredin had managed to say you were the one who had attacked him.”
“When am I supposed to have done that?” Rob asked.
“Aye, well, that’s the rub for them, isn’t it?” Henry said. “Sithee, he says he knows the time exactly, because the abbey bell had just begun ringing Nocturnes. He said he could have counted all twelve strokes whilst his attacker beat him.”
Adela said, “But we were in the abbey kirk then.”
“We were approaching the stables when the tolling began,” Rob said. “You jumped a foot, remember? Where did this supposed attack take place, Henry?”
“In the High Street just past St. Giles.”
“Then I think we can clear my name easily enough.”
“Aye, if you get the chance,” Henry said. “The abbot can speak for you, but it won’t help if you’re dead before then. Of course, he may be Fife’s man. If so—”
“Nay, he’s not, for he called Fife the lofty earl,” Rob said.
“Aye, he did,” Adela agreed. “He said he was a religious man, too.”
“Well, the lofty earl is apparently setting it about that no one can be sure that you are, in fact, Sir Robert of Lestalric,” Henry said. “He has said that since no one knows where you’ve been the past nine years, you might even be an English spy.”
“But the King recognized him,” Adela reminded them both.
Henry shrugged. “Fife will say the King is too senile to know what he is saying, that he heard the name and saw what he expected to see.”
“The abbot recognized me, too,” Rob said. “In any event, we’ll deal with all that if we have to. For now …” He hesitated, then said, “Henry, was your man able to learn if de Gredin was truly injured or how serious his condition is?”
“He knows only what he heard at the Castle,” Henry said. “According to Fife’s people there, de Gredin was grievously wounded and may not survive.”
“I’d guess his survival depends on how Fife judges the value of his sudden death against that of his continued existence,” Rob said.
“Aye, but you can see why the countess and Ealga having told de Gredin that Adela had already retired to bed may create a problem.”
“Easily explained,” Rob said. “We need only say they did not want him to cause a scene at the abbey. Considering his attentions to my lass, they might well have thought he would create one if he learned why we had gone there.”
“Then someone had better relay that tale to Ealga, because I did not tell them you had married Adela,” Henry said. “I thought it best to keep that to ourselves until we knew where we stood all round. I did think it best to tell my mother about your wedding before we reached Roslin, however,” he added.
Adela looked at Rob again and was surprised to see his eyes twinkling. “I’m almost afraid to ask,” he said to Henry. “What did she say?”
“That she knew how it would be from the first and wishes you both happy.”
“Sakes,” Adela exclaimed with a surge of relief. “I hope my father reacts as well when he learns what we’ve done. I don’t even want to imagine what Ardelve’s people will think when they hear of it.”
“I’ll wager that no one will complain,” Henry said. “Ardelve’s son will be glad not to have to concern himself with a widowed stepmother his own age that he barely knows. And Macleod has only to learn who Rob is to be content.”
“If I’m still amongst the living,” Rob said with a frown. “Whatever Fife may be up to, Henry, we must act speedily on the other matter we’ve discussed.”
Adela looked from one man to the other, then said stiffly, “If it is something you cannot discuss with me, sir, pray send me away. To speak so in front of me suggests that you do not trust me. I thought you did. I thought—”
“Enough, lass,” Rob said. “We cannot discuss it here in the hall, but in troth there are subjects that I cannot discuss with you. I told you so. Recall that I said—”
“Not here, Rob,” Henry said. “Let us adjourn to the wee chamber Hugo uses here to deal with accounts and such. It’ll be snug, but no one will overhear us there.”
“Aye, sure, but I did promise my lady that I would show her Hawthornden,” Rob said, looking warily now at Adela.
As well he might
, she thought, wondering at herself yet again. She was as willing to do battle with him now as she had been with Sorcha or her other sisters. She did not feel the need even to be tactful with him, except as a matter of civility—for as long as civility between them might last. The thought of fighting with him having somehow become stimulating rather than frightening, she eyed him grimly, unfazed by his own narrowing, suddenly stern gaze.
Henry, watching, said provocatively, “I believe Adela should come with us.”
“Henry!” Rob shot an astonished look at him.
“The wee chamber, Robert,” Henry said with a smile. “We’ll have that chat first, and then we’ll take her round the place together.”
Adela turned to her husband, saw the grim look return to his face, and lifted her chin. When Henry indicated that she should precede them, she smiled at him.
Feeling his temper rise again as he followed Henry and Adela, Rob reminded himself that his anger was his own to control, that he need only exert himself, and that doubtless Henry was testing him.
Surely, Henry did not intend to reveal any secrets of the Order to Adela. Not, he assured himself, that his lass was not trustworthy, because she was—as trustworthy as any person could be. He simply was not a man who believed in sharing true secrets with anyone. If one got lazy, it became too easy to share them inadvertently even if one had never before been in the habit of sharing them at all.
Emotions entered too easily into such matters. And sometimes plain, ordinary conversation wandered into territory rife with pitfalls for the unwary.
The devil of it was not only that she knew the secrets existed but that she had seen evidence of at least two of them. Although Waldron apparently had not mentioned the Templars to her, he had told her he sought the treasure they guarded to “return it to Holy Kirk.” And Rob himself had handed her his map. So she could put much together with what she already knew. That thought gave him pause as he followed the other two up the winding stairway to the cell-like chamber where Hugo kept his Hawthornden accounts.
By the time he entered the chamber, Henry had perched himself on Hugo’s stool by the table that filled most of the room and Adela had moved into the corner farthest from the door. He listened to be sure no one else was in the stairwell, then shut the door behind him.
“Well?” Henry said, raising his eyebrows.
“You’re right, I suppose,” Rob said, noting the flash of surprise on Adela’s face. He saw something else, too, relief and something warmer—mayhap gratitude. “I don’t like it, though,” he added almost curtly, still looking at her. “The more who share a secret the more likely it is that it will cease to
be
a secret.”
“Aye, but you realize that two of her sisters already know,” Henry said. “Moreover, it is nearly impossible to keep such things from someone who lives with you and comes to know your every thought and mood. But being able to trust that person is an excellent thing, something to strive for in a marriage, not to fight against. And, too …” Henry paused, looking at Adela.
She gazed solemnly back. When his gaze shifted to Rob, hers followed. Rob said, “He’s reminding me that you already know more than you should.”
“Do I?” she said, regarding him intently.
Henry said, “I have found the Macleod sisters to be both intelligent and persistent. She will learn more on her own, and sooner rather than later.”
“And she might give something away without knowing the dangers that exist.” Rob sighed. “I’d already decided to show her Hawthornden and ways to protect herself here. I own, I’d like to tell her more about my grandfather, too, and show her where he and his cronies hid in the old days. That could easily lead to trouble if she does not comprehend why she must keep silent about it.”
“I wish you would both stop talking about me as if I were not here,” Adela said tartly. “Does all this talk relate to the map you found at Lestalric, Robert?”
“Aye,” Rob said, wondering how she’d guessed it was a map and wishing she would not call him Robert. People only did so when they were vexed with him. “Did you find what you sought at Roslin, Henry?”
“I did,” Henry said, reaching into his doublet and extracting a rolled piece of vellum that looked much like Rob’s own. “Do you still have yours with you?”
“In my boot,” Rob said, bending to tug off the right one.
As he put his boot back on, Henry spread his own portion on the table and held it until Rob had done likewise. The curvy edges of the two fit together neatly.
“What do you think?” Henry asked doubtfully. “It seems to be little more than a webbing of lines and symbols.”
Adela moved closer to help hold the two pieces in place and saw that Henry was right. If it was a map, it was the oddest she had ever seen, because it looked like a child’s drawing with lines going every which way. The only recognizable bits were symbols, two that looked like plant sprigs—one with a flower, one without—a sword, an arrow pointing north, and other less easily identifiable things.
“What are those?” she asked, pointing to the two plants.
As one, Rob said, “Furze,” and Henry said, “Whin.”
“They look similar but for the flower on Henry’s half,” she said.
“Aye,” Henry said. “’Tis the same plant. Whin is the Norse word for furze.”
“Both are nobbut plain gorse,” Rob said. “The flowered one on Henry’s is the way my grandfather drew our heraldic plant badge.”
“The one on Rob’s is how my great-grandfather drew whin,” Henry said.
Adela frowned. “Was that so each would know who had the other half?”
“Who can tell?” Rob said. “Sithee, one rarely sees them as symbols. I only told Henry about mine because …” He stopped, grimaced, and looked at Henry.
“Because he kens fine that I have a strong interest in maps and have recently come into possession of a good many old ones,” Henry said.
Adela caught his gaze and held it. “So, once again, we come to the treasure.”
Rob watched Henry to see how he would react to that too-wise gaze of hers, but Henry just smiled lazily. “Aye,” he said. “We do.”
Still uncomfortable with the broader topic, Rob said, “This map has nowt to do with treasure, lass, and we can sort out that tale between us two another time. For now, it is more important to learn where this map will take us.”
“But don’t you know what lies hidden?”
“Nay, but I
have
been thinking about that,” he said.
“Speculation does less good than discovering where the map takes us and seeing with our own eyes what we find there,” Henry said.
Forestalling Adela’s next question, knowing she would ask what he expected the map to reveal, Rob said, “The one place we know to which both our families have a strong connection is Hawthornden.”
“It was part of the original barony awarded to my ancestor Sir William Sinclair when he arrived in Britain with the Conqueror,” Henry said.
“Then later, during the English invasion of 1335,” Rob went on, “my grandfather and others who refused to submit to Edward III took shelter in caves hereabouts and raided English supplies until we sent all the English home again. So we suspect the map refers to something hidden here or hereabouts.”
Adela had been studying the tangle of lines on the map as he spoke. Without looking up, she said, “Then could these lines indicate a route from cave to cave, or are most of them huge caverns like the one near the upper end of Roslin Glen?”
The silence that followed made her look up, first at Rob, then Henry.
Rob looked pensive, but Henry met her gaze with his usual lazy smile. “How much do you remember about that place?” he asked.
She thought for a moment. “I couldn’t find it if I tried,” she said. “I was frightened when we went in because it was so black inside, but Sorcha found a torch and lit it. We were in a passageway that soon opened into an immense cavern. I remember the lake, but not much that happened after that.”
“That isn’t important now, in any event,” Rob said. “That cavern you saw is one of hundreds that litter this area, but most are much smaller. Only Wallace’s cave is well known, because William Wallace once hid there. Others are known to a few, and doubtless others lie undiscovered. But we’ll all have to give some thought to this map, so come now, and we’ll look round the castle. We can start here and show you everything from its ramparts to its pit.”
Adela was annoyed that he was still clearly determined to say as little as possible, despite Henry’s willingness to be more candid. But she kept her irritation to herself if only because seeing the whole castle would tell her exactly what needed doing to put the place in order. True to their word, Henry and Rob showed her every chamber from the crenellated ramparts down to the great chamber below the cliff top where, eyes twinkling, they pointed out the sally port to her.
Rob opened the wooden door, stepped aside, and said, “Have a look, lass.”
Disoriented from descending the spiral stairway, she was amazed to see that the sally port opened onto the cliff face. They were a dozen feet below the clifftop, and even had they been able to climb up, they were right below the sheer keep wall.
“What use is it?” she asked. “There is no trail up or down. And one would have to be a fool to leap from here down to the river.”
“That rope coiled on the wall beside it is tied to the iron ring it hangs on, and the ring is driven into the stone,” Rob said. “One heaves the whole coil out, then slides down to the water. ’Tis only for emergencies, of course, enemies within or a siege. I doubt anyone has used it except lads testing its strength and wanting a swim. But you should know of it in the event you ever need such knowledge.”