Flame (23 page)

“What about the rest of the house, Joanna?
The remaining servants who had not been in that wing. Surely you
could have sought out one of them for help?”

Suddenly angry, she shook her head. “I would
never
have gone to them. How could I? They were as much part
of these killings as Mater herself!”

Gavin reached around and took a hold of her
chin, raising it until their eyes met. As he looked into her face,
the chamber was suddenly illuminated once again with a flash of
lightning. “What do you mean...?” The cracking crash of thunder
that followed immediately broke his question in two. “What do you
mean, they were part of it?”

“They were all there,” Joanna answered, her
eyes growing wild. “All the women of this house are a part of
Mater’s flock. I saw them in the crypt. You think I would not know
them? They were all there. Gibby, the cook. Molly and those who
serve her in the household. Even the mute, Margaret. They were all
part of it. All of them...carrying the flames of death!”

“But you never actually saw them set fire to
the south wing, did you?”

“I didn’t have to,” she responded angrily.
“Don’t you think what I saw was enough?”

“Nay, I do not think ‘twas enough,” Gavin
answered honestly. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop looking
for proof of their guilt.”

“But they are guilty.”

“You say they are,” he argued. “But you can
be no more certain than your grandmother of Mater’s guilt. And
there is not a thing you can do to mete out justice to those
women.”

“That may be
your
perception of the
truth.” She looked steadily into his eyes. “But ‘tis yours
alone!”

When he stepped into the Great Hall, Gavin
stopped to look about him at the long rows of tables. Most of his
own men and many of Athol’s had already settled at the tables,
lounging or eating their morning meal.

The Lowlander’s eyes settled on Allan, who
was sitting with Edmund and Peter at one of the tables. The older
man’s surly expression told him that the steward looked to be the
target of Peter’s wit this morning. In a lull between the storms
last night, Gavin had asked Joanna about the steward. Why, he’d
asked, had Joanna not chosen to seek out the older man’s
assistance, rather than going into hiding?

The answer had been all too obvious to
Joanna. The mute woman Margaret was Allan’s younger sister, and
what chance did a feverish, grieving young woman have of being
believed against the word of kin and fellow workers the steward had
known his whole life.

Well, he was not about to blame her now for
being suspicious. After all she had been through, she had earned
the right. Gavin looked about for his guest, Athol.

Against his wishes, Joanna had this morning
insisted on returning to the darkness of the caverns beneath the
keep. No matter what he said, he knew he had not even come close to
persuading her to stop hiding her existence from the household. He
had even tried to get her just to stay in his bedchamber and bar
the door.

Stubbornly, she had refused his offer, giving
him only her word before leaving that she would return after
nightfall. But now, as Gavin thought a bit anxiously about the all
too involved Earl of Athol, he felt a stab of uneasiness. He should
not have let her go. She herself had told him that Athol knew his
ways around the caverns of this keep. What if the blackguard was,
right now, traipsing through those tunnels himself?

Gavin whirled, ready to return to his chamber
and find Joanna himself. She would listen to reason if he had
to...

“I see you are as late a riser as I this
morning.”

Gavin lurched to a stop before the
Highlander, narrowly avoiding barreling into the man. As he looked
into the earl’s face, he struggled to hide the look of relief that
he was certain was stealing across his face.

“On second thought,” Athol added, irony
evident in his tone. “You look as though you have been up for some
time. And what occupies the master of Ironcross Castle this fine
morning? Chasing Joanna’s portrait around the South Hall?”

“Are you mocking me?” Gavin growled
menacingly, studying the man. “It seems to me that, for someone who
has been in this keep less than two days, you know a great deal
more about the affairs of Ironcross Castle than befits a
guest!”

Athol shrugged his shoulders with a wry smile
as he turned toward the Great Hall and its occupants. “‘Tis not too
often that one hears a more amusing story than the one being told
around this keep. Do
you
not think it amusing that a man of
your reputation should lose his temper every time some servant
moves a painting? Every kitchen lass and stableman is talking of
it, though I believe they are a wee bit unsure of whether to laugh
or to fear you all the more.”

“That shows great wisdom on their part,”
Gavin growled, keeping his eyes on the tall man’s profile. “You
know, Athol, I would almost believe you learned of this in the
manner you say, if you were one to charm a scullery maid or even
hang about the stables. But having had the pleasure of experiencing
your sour disposition for the past two days, I’d have to say ‘tis
unlikely you would be welcome in either place.”

Seemingly ignoring the barb, John Stewart
looked through the huge doors of the Great Hall before turning and
giving Gavin a half smile. “So you have not yet rooted out the
culprit, if I am not mistaken.”

Gavin paused and contemplated his answer.
Right before him stood a man who--jovial though he might be on the
surface--could easily be the very person responsible for the murder
of Joanna’s parents. In spite of what Joanna had seen and heard,
Athol was still as suspect, in Gavin’s eyes, as the women of the
abbey. And besides, the Highlander irritated the hell out of
him.

Gavin turned and met the other man’s gray
eyes. “So far I have been at a disadvantage, since this thief knows
of more ways than one to travel through the passages of this keep.”
He furrowed his brow in a frown. “And every attempt I have made to
find a guide to take me through the caverns has met with blank
stares and silence. One might think my new vassals are siding with
the scurvy dog.”

“To be sure, any number of the household
servants should have no difficulty in taking you around.” The
Highlander returned Gavin’s frown. “Allan, for one, has been living
in this place from the time he was a wee bairn. His great, great
grandsires probably hauled stones to build the place. Aye, if I
were to point to one with a fair, strong memory, Allan would be my
first choice.”

“Well, he claims that he hasn’t been anywhere
near those tunnels for quite some time. But from what I hear,”
Gavin continued, “you yourself were raised in these hills. I
understand you spent more than a few hours in this castle as a
lad.”

“And who would tell you that? You wouldn’t
have me believe
you
are one to be fooling with the lasses in
the kitchen!”

“Believe what you like,” Gavin growled. “But
I am not one to have a neighbor so near as you without wanting to
know what I can about him.”

Athol looked steadily at him for a moment,
and then nodded thoughtfully. “Aye,” he agreed. “And letting your
neighbor know where he stands seems to be your way as well.”

Gavin grunted his assent.

“You are a bluff and honest man,” the earl
said earnestly. “A rare quality in a flatlander.” His attention was
drawn to a trencher of food being carried by a serving boy across
the Great Hall. “I don’t know if you have chewed up your daily
measure of stray neighbors, but I need to put some food in this
empty belly of mine.”

“First tell me, are you quite familiar with
the tunnels beneath this keep?”

The Highlander’s expression was controlled as
he considered his answer, but watching him, Gavin decided that the
man’s answer would very likely confirm his own suspicions. In fact,
as he waited, Gavin became more and more certain that Athol would
try to hide the truth.

“Aye, my good host. In fact, I would say that
there are few people outside this household
more
familiar
with those caverns than I!”

Gavin watched the Highlander cock an eyebrow
at him before turning and striding toward the table--and the
food--that awaited them. Quickly disguising his surprise at the
man’s open acknowledgment, the laird followed a step behind.

As they reached their places at head table,
Gavin motioned for the earl to be seated. “I will make you an
offer. An exchange. I will not ask you how it happens that you
should be an expert on the so-called ‘secret’ passages beneath this
keep, and you will give me a lesson.”

Athol tore a leg off of one of the roasted
ducks that sat before them, before turning to answer. “There is no
need to bargain. I will gladly show you around...and still tell you
how ‘tis that I have come to know so much.”

Gavin looked skeptically at his guest’s face.
“Is that so?”

“Are you always so mistrustful, or is it only
when you are dealing with a new neighbor?”

Gavin frowned and fingered the goblet on the
table. “I believe I’ve always been considered a trusting man. But
somehow that trait has taken leave of me since I’ve arrived at the
Highlands.”

Athol grunted and turned his attention back
to his food.

“Now,” Gavin continued, “would you have any
idea why I should be so afflicted?”

“I only offered you a tour through your own
keep,” the Highlander said between mouthfuls. “I think you should
call a priest to exorcise
those
demons.”

“Ah, ‘tis a relief to find out that the good
Earl of Athol is not a master of all trades.” A wry grin tugged at
Gavin’s lips as he drew out his dirk and stabbed a hunk of cheese
from his own trencher.

“I said you
should
call a priest,”
Athol said slyly, reaching for his cup. “But if you would like me
to pray over you, as well...”

“Never mind all that,” he growled. “Are you
willing to take me through the caverns?”

“Are you serious?”

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t be?” The
Lowlander did not relax the intensity of his gaze while the earl
considered the question.

“Nay, I can think of no reason at all, now
that you mention it!” Athol drained his cup. “And when is it that
you would like this merry expedition to take place?”

“Today,” Gavin said with conviction. “This
morning. Finish your food, m’lord earl, and we can start.”

***

One quick look at her meager possessions and
Joanna felt her heart leap with alarm in her chest. She crouched
low, her eyes peering into the darkness beyond the little circle of
light around her. Someone had been here; there could be no
mistaking the signs. Her cloak and the ragged shift no longer lay
where she had left them, folded and tucked beneath her little nest
of straw. Someone had looked them over and shoved them back under
the makeshift bed, and Joanna’s blood ran cold.

The cavern beyond the low overhang was silent
and still. Getting down on her hands and knees--the lamp in
hand--she peered at the surface of the ground leading out of the
little hollow until she found the footprints of the intruder.
Boots. A large man’s boots.

Giving her cloak one quick shake, Joanna
hastily threw it around her shoulders and tied it at her throat.
Well, as far as finding out who had gone through her belongings,
there was not much she could do about it now. But there was
something that she was certain of. Whoever had been here would be
back.

Picking up the flint and putting whatever
else she could into the deep pockets of her cloak, Joanna turned
and gave her temporary quarters one last look. Once again--and so
soon, it seemed--her shelter was being taken from her.

Once again, she thought wearily, it was time
to go deeper into the darkness of these caverns to find yet another
place of safety. But first, she had to go to the crypt. With so few
days left until the full moon, she still had much to do to be
ready.

Joanna moved hurriedly along the edge of the
loch, but as she went, she did not see the shadow that flitted
along the far wall, following her.

Gavin knew he must be out of his mind to be
touring the tunnels and caverns beneath Ironcross without having
warned Joanna first. But then, Athol’s candid acknowledgment, and
then his surprising willingness to serve as guide, had compelled
the warrior chief to hammer away while the metal glowed hot. He
could not hold back from putting Athol to the test.

Gavin knew, of course, that he must be alert
and make enough noise to warn Joanna of their approach. Before
leaving his chamber this morning, he had at least forced her to
tell him that she had fixed a secure place by the underground loch.
And from all that she’d said to make him feel comfortable about
letting her go, Gavin had gotten a better sense of the extent and
the complexity of these caverns and the maze of tunnels.
Furthermore, she had sworn to him that there was no way anyone
could approach her without her being aware of it long before they
should happen upon her.

Raising the torch he carried high in the air
as he followed a step behind the Highlander, Gavin hoped that she
had been telling him the truth.

Hours ago, after letting all of their people
know of their intent, the two leaders had moved quickly through the
kitchens, past the questioning faces of the cook and her helpers,
and down the stone steps behind the great hearth. This, apparently,
was the only way Athol knew into the caverns from the keep itself,
or at least so he had claimed.

The tunnels were indeed as confusing and
maze-like as both the steward and Joanna had described. Low and
narrow passages opened suddenly into huge caverns, with the entry
of the two men rousing a thousand sleeping bats that had been
roosting far above the flaring torches. Underground streams
suddenly appeared beside a dry passage, gurgling and splashing
along smooth walls, only to branch off and then disappear just as
suddenly. And as if the sharp turns and endless series of carved
steps--some leading up blind passages--were not enough, it seemed
that every few moments they were passing sealed doors of ironbound
oak.