True Highland Spirit (28 page)

“Not for naught,” said Dragonet, holding up the key.

“We could have gotten the key by going through this tunnel,” said Morrigan gesturing toward the tunnel they had just traversed. “Not that awful, slimy, tiny one.”

Dragonet appeared unconcerned, walking toward the tunnel with the
S
without releasing her hand. “Sext is the midday prayer, set at the sixth hour after dawn,” said Dragonet in a friendly tone. “We usually chanted more psalms, prayed, and then ate our midday meal together.”

Morrigan thought “Sext” sounded a lot like “sex,” and despite the cold, her cheeks burned at the memory of their time together. She kept her adolescent musings to herself. They had done what they needed to do to survive. It was no more than that.

Except that was a lie. It had meant everything to her.

Except he was still a monk, so it would be better if she could convince herself it meant nothing.

“Getting a little cramped here,” said Dragonet, ahead of her in the tunnel. He bent down to avoid hitting his head on the rock, and soon they were both crawling on hands and knees. It was at least not wet, but very cold. The tunnel closed in, until Morrigan shook with the restraint it took her to avoid calling out for help. Her mind focused on one thing, her need to escape.

Suddenly, she ran into Dragonet’s backside. He had stopped in the tunnel.

“Move!” she shouted, on the verge of panic.

“I have nowhere to go. Dead end.”

“Nay, there must be a way, there must.” Morrigan pushed him down flat and squirmed her way over him. Despite the fear that drove her, she was painfully conscious of all the parts of her body that touched his.

She also reached a dead end, but began to scratch and push on the stone walls until she pushed herself up. “The tunnel goes up,” she said in amazement.

Dragonet stood next to her in the small space, his body hugging hers. He reached for her hand, but she wrapped her arms around his tall shoulders instead.

“Rest easy, we will find a way out,” reassured Dragonet.

Morrigan took a deep breath, mentally cursing her weakness when it came to caves.

“I am sorry,” mumbled Morrigan, trying to pull away, but having nowhere to go. “Which way now?”

“Only one way to go,” said Dragonet looking up.

“Aye.” Morrigan took the candle with one hand, and with Dragonet’s help she climbed up and stood on his shoulders. “Ah, here! There is another tunnel wi’ an
N
. If I can get a little higher, I can reach it.”

Dragonet pressed up her feet in his hands from his shoulders. Morrigan scrambled inside the tunnel, wondering how Dragonet would manage. She need not have worried. In a moment he appeared, shimmying up the rock.

“Clever,” said Morrigan with a rare smile. The tunnel she was in was larger than the previous one, and it was a relief to let go of some of the panic. They followed that tunnel out into another, larger cavern.

“Look, I can see a gate!” Morrigan sprinted across the cavern toward the mouth of a tunnel that clearly opened to an iron gate.

“No, wait!” exclaimed Dragonet, catching her before she could run more than a few steps. “Let us check the hours to see if that is the correct passage.”

They quickly took inventory of the room, aided by a torch they found hanging on the wall, which they lit with the candle. The cave flickered with orange light that revealed only one other tunnel leading from that room, and it had a small carved
V
above it, the next letter in the liturgy of the hours.

“This is the way we should go,” said Dragonet, pointing at the next letter. “
V
for Vespers.”

“Nay, I dinna want to go on some roundabout way just so we can do all the hours. Look, from this angle ye can see a bit of an iron gate through the passageway.”

Dragonet shook his head. “I say we go to the correct tunnel.”

“How do ye ken this isna the right way?” asked Morrigan, walking toward the short passage with the visible gate. “I’ll go this way, ye can go the other, and we’ll see who gets there first.” Morrigan stepped into the tunnel.

“Morrigan, wait—” Dragonet grasped her hand just as the floor beneath her collapsed. Morrigan plummeted down, scrambling for something solid to hold onto, as the rock floor beneath her broke into shale. Dragonet’s firm hand held hers tightly, and she clutched at him for safety.

Dragonet caught her at the edge of the gaping hole in the floor of the cave. He fell to his stomach on the solid rock, holding her hand as she dangled over the edge. Small rocks slipped over the edge of the precipice, taking a goodly long time before a muted splash was heard at the bottom. Dragonet reached to grab her with his other hand for better support.

“Dinna drop the key!” shouted Morrigan.

Dragonet stopped, stunned. “You are dangling over the cliff, and you are worried about the key?”

“I can climb up myself.” Morrigan pulled herself up his arm to reach the edge of the hole. “I dinna crawl through slime for naught, so dinna drop that key.”

Dragonet helped haul her up to safety with the one hand not holding the key. “Your concern was that I would drop the key?”

Morrigan sat on the cold, stone floor next to Dragonet. She was breathing hard, her heart pounding in her chest. Almost dying was hard on a body. She met Dragonet’s intense gaze. “Would ye have?”

“Yes.”

Morrigan inhaled sharply. The shivers that ran down her spine were from much more than the cold. “That would be a foolish thing to do.”

Dragonet leaned close and kissed her gently at first, then wrapping one arm around her waist and the other hand on the back of her neck, he deepened the kiss. By the time he finally pulled away, Morrigan’s mind was spinning, and she forgot all about the cold.

Dragonet shook his head. “With you I am always doing the foolish things.” He put his hand over his eyes. “I would beg your forgiveness—I should not have done that.”

“We are beyond apologies now. I fear we must acknowledge the attraction between us.”

Dragonet did not look up but nodded his head vigorously.

“It doesna change anything between us, does it?” Morrigan watched him closely, hoping somehow he would say yes, it changed everything.

Dragonet slowly shook his head no.

Morrigan struggled to her feet and off the cold ground, leaving her heart behind. The important thing was she had not lost her sword still strapped to her side. Once they found the silver box, she could take it from him by force.
Yes, brilliant plan.
She walked toward the
V
tunnel, her feet dragging like lead.

They walked through the tunnel together yet apart, not touching or looking at each other. The tunnel itself proved not to be too strenuous; there were a few large boulders to scramble over, but nothing overly challenging. Soon they emerged into the room with the iron gate Morrigan had glimpsed before. The cave had another torch on the wall, which they lit.

The gate itself was fashioned of thick, iron bars and fastened on either side with metal stakes bored into the rock. It was an odd size, spanning from the floor to the ceiling, but very narrow in width. Morrigan was a trim person, but even she judged she would need to turn sideways to pass through.

Dragonet examined the gate closely. “
Quam
angusta
porta
et
arta
via
quae
ducit
ad
vitam
et
pauci
sunt
qui
inveniunt
eam.
”

“What are ye mumbling about?”

“It is from the Gospel of St. Matthew. ‘
But
small
is
the
gate
and
narrow
the
road
that
leads
to
life, and only a few find it.
’ The Templars went to a good deal of trouble to hide this and still demonstrate its importance. Using the hours of prayer, putting an iron gate here at the smallest width, it is all leading us in reverence and prayer for what it beyond.”

“So what is it? What is this treasure?”

“I do not know, but it must be a relic of vast importance.”

“Could it be the… the
holy
grail
? The thing that Sir Lancelot went to find?”

Dragonet smiled, his eye sparkling. “I have always thought that naught but a story, but I am willing to be wrong.”

“Open the gate!”

Dragonet fit the key into the lock with some difficulty due to the rust that had formed on the key. He turned the key and the lock clicked. With a tremendous squawk of disapproval, the metal gate swung open.

Morrigan darted through the gate, eager to find what was inside. The narrow gate opened into a sealed cavern. It had several large boulders in the room, but no way in or out besides the iron gate. On one boulder was a large, wooden chest.

Morrigan stopped a few feet away from the chest, recalling her fall and wondering if this one was likewise protected. Morrigan turned to express her concern, but Dragonet lifted up a large rock. He hurled it onto the ground next to the chest. Nothing untoward occurred.

They both cautiously stepped forward until they stood before the large, cedar chest. No lock prevented them from opening the chest, yet they paused.

“Maybe ye should pray or something,” suggested Morrigan. It was an unusual request for her, and she was not sure why the words sprang to her lips, but it felt the right thing to do. She did not wish to be smote for coming into contact with something holy, something she was unworthy to touch.

Dragonet made the sign of the cross and took her hand. “Lord, in all reverence we humbly come before you and beseech you to guide us to find what you wish, and do with it what you will.”

Morrigan slowly unlatched one of the leather straps. Dragonet did the other. They looked at each other, much shared within a single glance. They would do this together. It was time to open the lid.

Morrigan took a deep breath. Anticipation crackled in the air. Dragonet’s eyes mirrored her excitement and perhaps a little fear. What could possibly be so important?

The top of the chest was heavy, and they both pulled hard, lifting it open. The hinges on the back groaned softly at being disturbed after so long. A plume of dust rose when the lid was opened, assailing her nose with an old, musty smell. She batted at the air, trying to wave aside the dust to see within the dark chest. Inside the chest were several old books with ancient scrolls laying across the top.

“Books?” Morrigan crinkled her nose at the musty smell and the disappointment. She was hoping for something that glittered more.

Dragonet gingerly lifted one of the scrolls. “Augustine,” he murmured reverently.

“Is it only books?”

“Only books? These are precious beyond words!” Dragonet’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he carefully lifted and inspected each scroll.

“Are they worth anything? Could we sell them?”

“Sell them? No! These need to be given to a university or an abbey, where they can be studied.”

“Are ye sure there is naught else?” asked Morrigan, losing interest in the project.

Dragonet lifted out more scrolls and a book. “Ah!” Underneath was an ornately engraved silver box, blackened with age. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy box placed it on the ground. Both he and Morrigan leaned in to examine their prize.

Despite the tarnish, it was a beautiful box, finely crafted. Whatever was in the box must be incredibly important. The hair on her arms stood up on end. What was in the box? What could be so prized by the Templars and still sought by monks? It must be holy.

“Ye do it,” said Morrigan, not wanting to touch it lest she bring judgment down against her.

Slowly Dragonet lifted the lid to the box. Heaped inside were gold coins, diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. The light from the torches reflected from the riches, dazzling her eyes. A ripple of sheer energy coursed through her. It was more wealth than she had ever seen or even imagined. It could save her clan. She could buy more farmland and grow crops. She could wear gowns that made even the Campbell ladies envious and have real wood fires in the winter and eat all the gingerbread she wanted. Oh, sweet gingerbread, she was rich!

Dragonet cautiously pawed through the contents, finding more jewels, necklaces, and coins. “I cannot believe this is all there is,” he said in obvious disappointment.

“All there is? Have ye gone daft? This is a fortune!” Morrigan thrust her hands into the treasure, relishing in the sheer weight of gold. It was heavy with possibilities. It was her salvation. And Andrew’s too.