Amanda Scott (34 page)

“I’ll go, madam.” She could not bear the thought that Michael might have been badly hurt or even killed by now and that his mother might reach him first.

“I shall be right behind you with my poker, and you must keep your own weapon in hand,” Isabella said. “Between us, we ought to startle those louts witless, but do not hesitate to employ whatever means you must to unman them.”

Isobel did not answer, fixing her attention instead on what lay ahead as she listened for sounds of approach from below. She heard nothing, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand clapped over her mouth as she rounded a corner. Her dirk hand shot up, but another hand caught it in a hard grip.

“Unhand her, Michael,” Isabella said coolly. “I find that I am becoming quite fond of this intrepid wife of yours.”

“Madam!” Michael exclaimed. Taking his hand away from Isobel’s mouth, he slipped that arm around her instead and gave her a hug. “What are you two doing down here? If you know—”

“Pray, keep your voice down,” Isabella interjected. “Whoever remains below may yet prove difficult.”

“They are all dead,” he said. “Where is Waldron?”

“Apparently, your lady wife tumbled him off the ramparts,” his mother said dryly. “Shall we go to the great hall and make ourselves more comfortable?”

“What about his other men?” Michael asked, shooting Isobel a look of amusement. “There were more of them searching the castle.”

“Aye, but I sent word to the kitchens,” Isabella said. “Doubtless someone thought to use the postern door to let some of our lads in to deal with them, because I have not seen anyone else. Shall we send for ale or wine, and ask someone?”

Isobel looked astonished, and Michael could understand why. His mother’s attitude toward her had certainly changed.

The countess turned and went back up the stairs with her poker, and Michael hastily kissed Isobel and squeezed her hand before following.

“Oh, Michael, she locked one man outside on the ramparts, one of the two who trussed up the porter. She said there are bolts on this side of the door up there.”

“Aye, there are,” he said, chuckling. “How is our porter?”

Guiltily, she exclaimed, “Faith, he is still tied up! We just came to look for you. The other man who was watching him is lying on the floor near him, too, because your mother knocked him out with that poker she was carrying.”

“In all that tumult, did she think to raise the Raven?” he asked.

“Aye, because she thought it might frighten away any of Waldron’s men who might still be in the glen. I don’t think it will, though,” she added.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, “but if Hugo has not arrived yet with enough men to deal with them, I’ll have something to say to him that he will not want to hear.”

“Hugo?”

“Aye, sure. You must have realized by now that I rarely go anywhere that he does not follow. He took Waldron’s measure years ago. If Hugo was not close behind him soon after he left the north, I shall be much surprised.”

“He is here,” the countess said from the entryway. The main door stood open, the porter stood on his feet beside it, and Hugo stood at the gate, handing the reins of his horse to a gillie. Two of his men dismounted nearby.

Hugo strode to meet them with a grin on his face. “So you are all safe. I was confident, but I don’t mind admitting I’m relieved. Where’s that villain, Waldron?”

“I do wish everyone would stop talking about him,” the countess said. “Does not anyone else want a cup of claret?”

“I do,” Hugo said, hugging her.

“I thought you were all afraid of her,” Isobel said in her headlong way.

Laughing, Michael said, “We are, sweetheart. Just wait until you stir her ire.”

“Never mind that,” Isabella said. “I warrant you are all more interested in whatever brought Waldron to Roslin, so you’d better attend to that. You can tell me all about it over supper later, if it is one of those things that you
can
tell me about.”

Without bothering to deny their interest, they promised to return as quickly as they could to enjoy a cup of wine with her. When Isabella asked if there was anything she could do to make Isobel more comfortable in the meantime, Michael pulled Hugo aside to tell him briefly what had happened. “Are you sure the glen is clear of the enemy now?” he asked when he’d finished.

“Aye, for now,” Hugo said. “We saw no sign of Waldron anywhere. Did Isobel truly push him off the ramparts?”

“So my mother told me,” Michael said. “What I want to discover is exactly what that villain did to drive her to such a course, although I can guess.”

“I can, too,” Hugo said.

Isobel’s conversation with Isabella having ended, she stepped in between them and said bluntly, “I have earned the right to take part in this conversation, have I not?”

“Aye, sweetheart, you have,” Michael said. “We’re returning to the glen. Fetch rope, candles, and tinderboxes, Hugo. I believe more than ever now that a cave or tunnel must be involved in this, and if one is, I don’t want to get lost in it.”

Having expected Michael to order her to remain safely behind with the countess, especially now that Hugo had arrived, Isobel was delighted that he had not. When Hugo returned with a long rope coiled over his shoulder, they hurried down to the glen, crossed the river, and were following the track she and Michael had taken when Waldron’s men attacked them, before she thought about Waldron again.

“Michael, what if he didn’t drown? What if he’s waiting for us?”

Michael glanced at Hugo, and that gentleman said, “I have men posted throughout the glen. Even Waldron is not so skilled that he could get past all of them. Michael might succeed, but he is the only man I know who might, and I’m not certain even he could do it. Moreover, Waldron is one whose measure of courage depends on how many men he has with him, and if any still linger hereabouts, my lads will soon lay them by the heels. Since we have not yet seen or heard from Waldron, I warrant he’s either dead or still riding the river Esk.”

When Michael nodded agreement, Isobel relaxed, and soon they came to the waterfall he had described, and he pointed out the Green Man carved into the cliff nearby. As far as she could tell, it was exactly like the one in the hidden stairway.

“The pair of them must have meaning, but what can it be?” she muttered.

When the men just stood frowning at the image, she said, “What about the falls? Have you ever looked to see if there might be a hiding place behind them?”

“There is only a small recess,” Michael said. “Hugo and I used to slither along a narrow ledge there, and under the falls, until his father put a stop to the practice. There was barely room for the two of us even then, as lads.”

“Then mayhap the answer lies in the other direction,” she said, turning away from the river and pushing into the woods to follow the base of the cliff.

Shrubbery clung to its face, making her progress difficult, but five minutes later, she saw what she had hoped to see. “Michael, there’s a bearded man here!”

The two men came running, and shortly afterward, they discovered an odd drawing on a wide, squat boulder that looked like another bearded man. But although they searched in widening circles around the boulder, they found no more.

Returning to the boulder where they had begun their search, Michael leaned against a nearby tree and stared thoughtfully up at its branches.

Hugo sat on a fallen log and gave vent to a frustrated sigh.

Isobel returned to the boulder and stood looking down at it. It was about two-thirds her height and nearly the same width. “Can the two of you move it?” she asked.

The men looked at each other in the conferring way she saw so often, then got up as one and strode to wrestle with the great rock. Though it took some time, it moved more easily than either had expected, revealing a well-like hole beneath it.

Excited, Isobel said, “Something must be down there. Can we get down to see what’s at the bottom? It looks large enough to accommodate even the two of you.”

Both men agreed, but because they wanted to insure secrecy, it was two more hours before they had checked Hugo’s sentries and their own gear, enlisted two more loyal St. Clair lads to help, and declared themselves ready to continue.

“I’m going first,” Michael said firmly, looking at Isobel rather than Hugo. “Once I know what is down there, I’ll decide who else goes.”

They both nodded, and Isobel waited patiently, certain that Michael would find what they sought. Hugo lowered him on the rope, and soon she saw light flicker far down in the hole as Michael lit a candle with his tinderbox.

“Have them lower you both down,” he said. “There’s a tunnel, a big one.”

“You go first, my lady,” Hugo said with a grin. “Your husband would not appreciate my standing below whilst they lower you.”

Eagerly, she let them ease loops of rope around her hips and under her arms as they had done with Michael, and moments later she was descending into the ground with a rapidity and lack of fear that amazed her. Michael caught her at the bottom and helped her free herself. “Show me,” she said.

He yanked on the rope and as the men above pulled it up, he held the candle so she could see the tunnel.

“Why, it’s enormous!”

“Aye, I’m glad we’ve plenty of candles and men who ken where we are.”

Moments later, Hugo stood beside them, and Michael led the way into the tunnel. They had not gone far when they came upon four chests.

The three of them stood staring.

“I smell water,” Hugo said.

“I, too,” Michael said. “Let’s go on a bit before we examine those chests.”

Ten yards beyond them, the tunnel turned, and ten feet beyond that, they emerged into a large cavern with what appeared to be a medium-sized lake in its center. The path they had followed looked as if it continued around it.

“Shall we go farther?” Hugo said. “The air seems fresh enough down here.”

“I remember this place,” Michael said. “This is the cave I’ve dreamed about for so long. Someone must have brought me here when I was very young.”

On the far side of the lake, they came to another tunnel. “These tunnels seem to be man-made,” Michael said. “At least, they’ve been widened with tools.”

“This one seems to lead back toward the castle,” Isobel said. “Could it connect to that hidden stairway somehow, Michael?”

“I don’t know how, lass. That stairway ends above the cellar level of the castle. Mayhap there is a connection there, but we’ve never found it.”

“Perhaps it was never finished,” Hugo said, peering into the darkness ahead.

“I want to see what’s in those chests,” Michael said. “I wonder why they lie so near the entrance and not farther in where they would be harder to find.”

Neither of his companions had an answer, but when they opened the first chest, they found a letter on top.

“Have a care with that candle, lass,” Michael warned as Isobel moved hers closer to give more light. “I don’t want to burn it up before I read it.”

“’Tis another from your father, and it addresses Sir Henry,” she said.

“Aye, well, I’m going to read it anyway,” Michael said.

She read it, too:
“Right worthy and trusted son,”
it began.
“The contents of this cavern have been entrusted to Clan Sinclair to keep safe for as long as such guardianship shall be deemed necessary by the Order of the Knights Templar of Scotland. In these four chests lie the rules you must follow in this regard, as well as other documents, relics, and valuables. None is to be sold or given away, since all within this cavern lies entrusted to our keeping; however, you will find within the rules some rights that accompany the trust, and one of those is to use your own judgment as to where their safekeeping may be best secured. Study all the contents of the cavern well, so that you may know what you hold here, and keep all safe. Commit thy work to God!”

“He signs it ‘William Sinclair of Roslin,’” Isobel said. “That could be either your father or grandfather, but it was your father who wrote it, was it not?”

“Aye, it is his hand,” Michael said. He picked up a scroll of some sort that lay under the letter and spread it open on one of the chests. “Look at this,” he said.

It was a map, but unlike any Isobel had ever seen, for it showed lands far to the west of Scotland and the Isles. “This must be the map that Henry saw,” she said.

Michael rolled it up again. “I’m going to take this and the letter back with us, but we’ll leave everything else, and put the rock back until I can get word to Henry to come here. He has the right to see it all as it is now, and to decide what we will do next. Now that we’ve found it, though, I fear it is no longer as safe as it was. Those two lads above know of the hole in the ground and now know that we disappeared for a time after finding it. I trust them, but we must do something to protect it better, and soon. However, I dare not make that decision without consulting Henry first.”

“I agree,” Hugo said. “Do you want me to return to St. Clair and fetch him?”

“Yes, as soon as we’ve finished here,” Michael said. “Now, let’s put everything else back as we found it and leave. Come away from that trunk, lass.”

He held out his hand, and Isobel reluctantly put hers in it. It went completely against the grain for her to leave without discovering what else lay in the fascinating chests, let alone without exploring the rest of so intriguing a cavern, but she knew Michael was right, and she knew, too, that she could trust him to tell her, in time, as much about their discovery as he learned about it himself.

Hugo had scarcely glanced at the chests.

After Michael shut the lid of the one that had contained the letter and map, he looked the others over carefully.

Isobel watched him, and when she caught his eye, he said ruefully, “I don’t remember such chests in my dream, but I always enter the cavern from the same direction. I was just wondering if whoever brought me here could have done so before the chests arrived from the Isles.”

She had not thought about when or how the chests had got there, but the subject did not interest her as much as their contents did. It was nearly impossible to walk away from them, making her almost glad that Michael gave her no choice.