Wildewood Revenge (29 page)

“Not entirely, but if it means we can forgo talking and move onto other things. I expect we could go and look.”

*  *  *

Grace faltered. Go to Kirk
Knowe
. How could they do that?
Wasn’t  it
on the other side? Or was that just her Kirk
Knowe
, her cottage? It was complicated. What if they returned to Kirk
Knowe
and she was
back in 2012 and he was with her? Or would he cease to exist if they crossed the divide? She looked at him and worried. She had demanded he take her back, and certainly after the incident with Guy she’d been more than ready to leave, this life was altogether too dangerous. But was she ready to go back and leave Miles behind?

She backpedalled a little, suddenly scared and not entirely sure why.

“But
it’s
miles away. It took us days to get here. We haven’t got days.”

“It took us days,” replied Miles, “Because it was necessary to navigate a course to avoid
Ahlborett
Castle, and partly because of the weather, but mostly because of you. Your injury naturally slowed us down.”

“Of course,” replied Grace. “I’d forgotten all about the fact that one of you tried to kill me. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

Miles held her face gently between his palms and kissed her, lingering a little longer than necessary. “My lady, it was not I. Edward mistook you for a deer. Those large, doe eyes of yours obviously had something to do with it. And I would argue we did take care of you. We could have left you where we found you.”

Grace kissed him back slowly, her mind not quite in the same place as her lips. If they travelled a different route then maybe the divide would not be crossed at all? She had no idea how these things worked and tried to remember how she’d slipped through the first time. One minute she’d heard the artillery fire and the next it was silent. Recalling the spot in the ancient wood when she’d first noticed the silence, she wondered if she’d be able to find it again if the need arose either to avoid, it or use it.

“You took care of me very well,” she agreed, still distracted and
concerned. “We would still need to avoid
Ahlborett
. It wouldn’t do to bump into Gerard.” She couldn’t quite work out in her head where they were in relation to the castle. Because of the arduous journey they’d taken to get to
Wildewood
, she imagined they were located many days ride from Gerard. She tried to recall the map she’d seen in Miles’ room, the images made little sense then, but now perhaps they would.

“Not if we went after dark,” he replied. “We could pass quite close to the castle without being seen.”

“How would we see where we’re going?” Grace imagined them lost in the great wood, bumping in to trees. There were no battery powered torches here, and despite having a myriad of other things in her pockets, a torch was not one of them.

“We wouldn’t need to see, you’re not coming.”

“But you said we.”

“I meant John and I, there’s no way you’re going anywhere near Gerard, not after what happened with Guy.”

“It was my idea,” Grace exclaimed indignantly.

“And it’s a good idea,” Miles agreed. “But you’re not going. John and I will ride over, recover whatever’s there and deliver it to Edward on Sunday.”

Grace shook her head, “You can’t take it, Edward has to find it himself or Gerard will just say you set him up. All we have to do is make sure it’s there.”

“I told you, you’re not going.”

“You need someone small to get in to the crypt.”

She was clutching at straws and she knew Miles recognised it when he humoured her with a crooked smile.

“We could just use the door.”

“There is no door.” Although, she realised, it would have a door in the thirteenth century and it would also have a chapel above it. She shook her head. This was getting far too complicated. Her knowledge extended merely to a tiny opening below the foundations of her grandfather’s cottage. She remembered clearly the time his terrier, Skip had strayed through the aperture. The dog went in and didn’t come out for two days. Grace had been convinced he’d been eaten by monsters. Her grandfather however, simply left food outside the opening and waited for him to re-emerge. He’d turned up at the bottom of the steep dene at the back of the house where the ground dropped steeply to the river. Her grandfather reckoned Skip had come out on day one when they weren’t looking and been off chasing rabbits for two days.

The old man kept her entertained for years with tales of what might lie beneath their feet. As a child she’d imagined skeletons and ghosts, and of course, treasure. There were remains of graves in the garden and years before her grandfather’s time, workmen unearthed a skeleton beneath the drive. She wondered now whose skeleton it was. Wondered if it was anyone she now knew. Glancing at Miles, she worried again.

“You told me you were never going to let me out of your sight. What if Gerard turns up here while you and John are digging for treasure? What if he brings his witch-finder and a big stake? What if you come back from your little adventure and find me burnt to a crisp in the courtyard?” She left a dramatic pause.

He shook his head at her. “There’s probably nothing there anyway.”

“Then why was Gerard so interested in me, once he knew I was from Kirk
Knowe
? Don’t you see
,
this is not about witches, or spies, or even about his history with you? Although Guy probably thought he could use the situation to finish what he started, and it would suit Gerard to be
rid of you at someone else’s hands. No, Gerard thinks I know about his hidden treasure. Treasure he should have given to Edward. He thinks I’m going to tell the king. The fact that Edward has suddenly decided to pay him a visit must be making him very nervous. Surely that would be enough for the king to lose patience with him. No wonder he wants me dead.”

*  *  *

Miles looked away. He couldn’t concentrate when she was seated on his knee in her underwear. It gave her an unfair advantage. It made sense though, what she was saying, and it would explain Guy’s involvement. Guy wasn’t interested in treasure, his father was the richest man in Lincolnshire, but he was interested in revenge and he’d still not managed to achieve it, not to his satisfaction. Every time he’d tried to exact it, Miles ended up the victor. He again regretted not running him through when he’d the chance. He was an extremely dangerous man, maybe more so now he’d suffered a further humiliation.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

“Such as?”

“If Gerard has secreted the booty at Kirk
Knowe
and he does believe you know of it, and thinks you will reveal its location to the king; then he has two choices. He has you silenced, or he moves the treasure.”

“So?”

“He knows I will thwart any attempt on your life. He’s seen
firsthand
what happened to Guy’s attempt to kidnap you. So he has to move the treasure. He has to move it before the king gets to
Alnwick
, and we have to make sure someone the king trusts, sees him do it.”

“What if he’s already moved it?”

Miles shrugged he was tired, his brain hurt. “Then we lose.”

“Wrong answer, we put it back.”

Miles watched her. She seemed exhilarated at the thought of beating them at their own game. It was rubbing off on him. “We’d need to go soon, we only have four days till the king arrives and Gerard may have already decided to move it.”

“We could go now,” suggested Grace. “There’s a full moon to light our way.”

Miles glanced at the window. The moonlight illuminated the room. He was torn. She was correct, the sooner they got this done the better, but he was tired and reluctant to remove himself from what was becoming an increasingly attractive position. She was warm against him, her skin soft and scented.

“It’s late. It will take us half the night to get there, the rest of it to get back and we still need to plan. What shall we do if Gerard has beaten us to it? Do you really want to leave this warm bed and go out into the night on that wayward filly? Perhaps it would be wiser to delay until tomorrow evening.”

Grace grinned at him and snuggled closer. “Or we could hurry and be back by dawn and still have time to finish what we’ve almost started.” She reached up and kissed him softly, allowing her hand to trail across his belly.

Miles groaned, made to remove her hand then thought better of it. “Or we could finish what we’ve begun and then go treasure hunting...?”

Grace laughed. “You’d need to be quick.”

“I can be extremely swift.” He returned her kiss, turning soft and gentle into hot and steamy within a couple of breaths. “I’d prefer not to,
but under the circumstances one has to make sacrifices.”

Chapter Thirty One

They left an hour later with thick cloaks to guard against the night chill and John at their side. Miles and John were well armed and Miles ensured Grace had Edmund’s knife. Only Tom
Pandy
, Edmund and the Forester men were aware of their departure and they positioned themselves to keep watch until their safe return.

The moonlight served them well. They travelled quickly past their Scottish sentries and on through the forest spread out to the South East of
Wildewood
. They followed hidden trails, which cut many miles off their journey and brought them to the outskirts of
Ahlborett
a little after midnight. They halted by the
Danestone
on the rise above the village and Miles dismounted, climbed the great prehistoric monolith and scanned the castle from this vantage point.

Grace stared down at what could be seen of the village in the moonlight. It was unrecognisable to her. It still hugged the narrow road that snaked through the valley floor and the dwellings on the north of the road still sat precariously on steeply rising plots of land, which reached a pinnacle, before they dropped hazardously down to the river running behind the village. But the village itself was merely a collection of wooden and stone dwellings enveloped in darkness, slumbering. No sign of the sturdy stone houses she knew. No welcoming lights at the windows, no sign of the pub, the converted church or the village hall or school. There were no quaint cottages with lovingly tended gardens and flowers tumbling over dry stone walls.

The castle which she knew only as a ruin, stood tall and proud with watch fires lit and guards on sentry duty at the main gate. If Grace still harboured doubts about the reality of her situation, they were instantly
dispelled. This was medieval
Ahlborett
, of that there was no doubt.

Reluctant to travel the main thoroughfare in case the sound of jingling harness might waken sleeping dogs, Miles led them with considerable care down the steep slope to the south of the great stone and skirted the village.

The landscape changed as they approached the eastern edge of the village and Grace’s sense of direction became confused. The layout of the road here was unfamiliar. Many trees encroached from all sides and the road was merely a track wide enough to allow the passage of a cart, petering out to a pedestrian or single horse width before winding its way downhill to where the river could safely be forded during the summer months.

Miles halted beneath the trees and they dismounted and secured their horses. He pressed his finger to his lips and beckoned for his companions to follow. It was a strange experience for Grace when she first caught sight of the tiny chapel of ease which stood on the very spot where her own cottage should be—would be. Somehow it didn’t seem to be as high from the path as her cottage was from the road, but as one had been built upon the other this explained the topographical difference. The building itself was small and built in the random stone that Grace recognised from the foundations of her cottage. This was the right place.

“Where is the entrance to the crypt?” asked Miles quietly.

Grace scanned the front of the building. The small entrance known to her was at the south west corner of the building and below the level of the cottage drive. Only the top lintel of the aperture had been visible above ground. She looked for it now and realised the aperture was in fact a tiny, glassless window opening and as the ground level was much
lower now, she could see, positioned to the left of the window, stone steps leading down to a small wooden door. Her grandfather had been correct there truly was a crypt beneath the cottage and here it appeared in all its glory.

“There,” she pointed. She squeezed past the men, excited by the prospect of what they might find. Miles held her back, placed a finger at her lips, and they stood silent for a moment listening to the stillness, straining to hear beyond it.

“John, take a look about, see if there’s anyone resident, a monk or priest. We don’t want to alert the whole village with his cries of alarm.” John nodded and picked his way through the tangle of yew trees with remarkable ease for such a large man.