The room was lit by her torch and the last remains of the ones left in the sconces and by the embers of the fire in the hearth. It wouldn’t be long before the new day whispered through.
‘Good evening...or rather, good morning, Isabel. I see you’ve brought our four-legged friend.’ He scratched Perdu behind the ear before lifting his head. ‘I have much to say to you, too.’
Her heart did a little somersault at the sight of him, clad only in dark braes and a wool tunic with a leather gambeson over the top.
‘Well?’ He raised a brow when she said nothing. ‘What is it that you have uncovered?’
‘Oh, yes, it’s this tapestry here on the left. If you could kindly hold the torch?’
‘My apologies, my lady,’ he said with a smile, taking it from her.
‘If you could hold it high, I’d be much obliged...that’s it. Now do you see here...?’ She pointed to the long, thin, arched stained-glass window depicted in the right-hand corner of the tapestry. ‘Well, I have been pondering on this all day. It’s such a small, insignificant design and yet so out of place, don’t you think?’
He tilted his head as he studied it. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Then I realised why it puzzled me so.’ She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to contain her excitement. ‘You see, I recognise it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The stained-glass window that you see here is a replica of the one found in the chapel here at Castle de Clancey.’
‘Why would the tapestry include that?’
‘Let me show you, Will, come. There’s more.’ She grabbed his hand as they rushed out of the hall. ‘Whatever this sacred relic, I believe it’s hidden somewhere in the chapel. Either that or we might possibly find more clues.’
They walked into the inner bailey and across the stone-arched bridge that separated the inner bailey from the outer one and the land beyond.
‘By the way, I’ve been investigating what has happened to Rolleston. Despite being told that he’d suddenly left before we arrived, I’ve discovered that he was never actually seen leaving the castle. It’s my belief that he may still be somewhere here, within these walls.’ When she stopped abruptly, he held out his hand to her. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll catch up with him soon. Come, let’s get to this find of yours.’
The chapel was in the furthest reach of the castle curtain, surrounded by its own garden and a rose arbour that led to the steps of the stone building. The arched wooden door creaked open as they let themselves in. It wouldn’t be long before the start of matins—they would have to gather their findings quickly.
Isabel lit all the chapel candles to provide more light before leading Will to the furthest wall in the chancel, past the altar to a tiny sliver of an arched window directly opposite, on the right-hand side. She placed the torch she’d carried into a metal sconce as Will placed his on the opposite sconce. They turned to face it. Here the glass had been split into five colours, matching exactly the same as in the tapestry.
‘Do you see, Will? It’s the same window.’ She turned to face him. ‘More importantly, this was on the tapestry depicting the crucifixion.’
‘Importantly?’
‘Yes, because it begs the question—why? I have been asking myself this since I found the window.’
‘And have you come closer to understanding more?’
‘It’s just a silly notion, but do you recall what Father Gregor said when we visited him at St Savinien? That the symbols on the vellum mainly referred to the cross. Even the rose and its five petals symbolised the...’
‘The five wounds of Christ,’ Will muttered slowly before meeting her eyes.
‘Yes, and there were five tallies marked on the vellum, resembling a cross. Do you remember?’
‘I do, but what do you suppose this has to do with the sacred relic?’
‘That is what I’m trying to ascertain.’
‘Go on.’ Will’s brows met in the middle as he crossed his arms across his wide chest.
‘I’ve been scouring the chapel for clues ever since I made the finding.’
He exhaled deeply. ‘Didn’t I specifically say not to do anything without me?’
‘I haven’t, except for only a little investigating on my own. I promise.’
‘I hope so.’ He exhaled deeply a second time, shaking his head. ‘But I can see from your face that you’ve found something.’
She grabbed both of his hands and gave them a squeeze. ‘I have. Come and look on the ground here in the chancel. The mosaic is inlaid here in a pattern except this one square slab near the altar. Unlike the rest, it’s not inlaid. Instead, the tiles seem to be stuck on to the stone. Have a look at the centre mosaic, there is a faint marking.’
Will crouched on his knees. ‘The old sign of the cross again that we found on the vellum,’ he said before whistling low. ‘And that oval hole beside it is a lock, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘That is exactly what I thought!’ She clapped her hands together.
He tilted his head back in frustration. ‘That is all well and good, but we don’t have a key.’
‘Do we not?’ She dangled a long metal key with a thick stem and lozenge-shaped handle between her fingers.
A slow smile spread on Will’s handsome face, his blue eyes twinkling with a bewildered excitement.
‘Where in heavens did you get that?’
She shrugged. ‘Father Lambert, the chaplain here. He said as custodian of the key, he could only give it to my father’s heir—namely, me.’
‘You, Isabel de Clancey, are a marvel.’ He cradled her head and kissed her on the lips. ‘But then I’ve always known that.’
She touched her mouth at the unexpectedly brief impulsive kiss, which had sent a tingling warmth through her body. No, this was not the time to even acknowledge such a moment. ‘Never mind that. Let’s open this stone and see what hides beneath. Here, take the key.’
Will got to work and unlocked it. He grabbed the dagger attached to his sword belt and scraped the edges of the stone slab. Eventually it became loose enough for him to lift it out in one piece.
They both peered into the darkness below. Isabel grabbed the torch from the sconce and flooded light into the hole. There was a large wooden plank with a metal ring set within the stone foundation beneath the flooring.
‘It looks like a metal door knocker. And the base of the metal has the same motif, the five-petal rose, as on the vellum.’
‘So it does.’ Will pulled this open, revealing a dropped layer beneath, made entirely of metal. This time there was a small lozenge shape sunk in the middle. ‘I have an idea what fits into this. Are you still wearing your pendant, Isabel?’
‘Yes.’ She took it off and passed it to Will, who removed his own pendant from around his neck and fitted them together. He then carefully inserted this into the sunken, melded shape in the centre.
‘What now?’
‘I have an idea.’ He turned and nodded at her. ‘It’s been staring us in the face from the moment we discovered the vellum.’
‘The cross...’ she hissed, her eyes wide with eagerness.
‘Exactly. It has always been about the cross and the sign in prayer.’
Will pushed the pendants up, down, left, and right, hearing a click at each point.
‘In nomine Patris... Et Filii... Et Spiritus sancti.’
Finally, back to the centre, hearing the last click.
‘Amen.’
This made the hinged door open, revealing a large wooden box. They both stared at it before Will reached below and grabbed it, hauling it out and laying it on the stone floor.
Isabel spread her hands on either side of Will’s face, pulling him towards her and planting a swift kiss on his lips, just as he had done only moments ago. ‘You, William Geraint, are also a marvel.’
He collected himself, nodding to Isabel to remove the lid. They both stared inside at the decorative casket.
‘I believe you should do the honours, my lady.’ He smiled as Perdu started barking. ‘Quiet, you.’
Isabel bit her lip as she pulled the casket out, staring at it in wonder. ‘It’s a reliquary casket and, heavens, it’s astonishingly beautiful. Should I open it?’
He placed his hand over hers and shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you. You can imagine what it might contain.’
She nodded. ‘I believe that it would be pieces of the true cross.’ She leant back and frowned as she stared at the casket. ‘Do you believe it is real?’
‘That’s of no importance either way, Isabel. The immense power that can be wielded by whoever owns it is what matters. And of huge concern. That is why it’s imperative for the Templars to have it back.’
‘Which they shall,’ Isabel muttered.
Perdu started to bark more incessantly. ‘What is the matter, boy?’
Will got up from his haunches and looked around the alter to find Geoffrey Fitzwalter, Eustace Rolleston and the pock-faced man they had encountered in Aquitaine. The three stepped out from around the shadowy pillars and moved towards them. They had a handful of men behind pointing their swords, surrounding them.
Perdu continued to bark, growl and bare his teeth.
‘I’m afraid not, my lady,’ Fitzwalter said, as his thin lips curled upwards.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘You!’
‘Your servant, my lady.’ Fitzwalter made a mock bow as Rolleston and his men laughed.
‘How dare you come into my castle and its chapel in the belief that you can intimidate us in this way!’
‘Oh, I dare, Lady Isabel, I dare very much,’ he sneered. ‘You speak with such fearless defiance behind your reprobate of a mercenary knight, but you are both outnumbered.’
‘Shall we put that to the test?’ Will thundered, as he drew his sword out from its scabbard. ‘I see you’ve brought your own brand of murderous mercenaries. Ah, Rolleston, we meet again at last.’
‘The pleasure is all mine, Sir William,’ Rolleston scoffed.
‘Lower your weapon, Geraint.’ Fitzwalter brushed something off his shoulder. ‘Would you want to endanger the lady’s life so recklessly?’ At Will’s hesitation he raised a brow. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’
‘Why?’ Isabel muttered, knowing she had to keep the man talking. This would hopefully allow time for Will to think of something in this desperate situation. Or at least she hoped that he would.
‘I have waited a long time for this moment. A moment I believed I had lost all those years ago when you were presumed dead and buried...the pendants with you.’
‘You knew about the pendants?’
‘Well, naturally, your arrogant fool of a father was very careless about his secrets,’ he snarled, throwing her a disdainful glare. ‘Once I realised that both pendants had quite accidentally fallen into your possession, I had to get them back...by any means. Even if it meant orchestrating an ambush all those years ago.’
Isabel felt the warmth of Will’s hand on her shoulder. ‘You’re quite mad,’ she whispered.
The smile that spread on Fitzwalter’s face made her stomach turn in disgust.
‘No, not mad, merely shrewd enough to understand the true worth of what you hold in your hands, my lady. Now, if you would please hand it over?’ He held out his hand. ‘And get that infernal animal under control or I shall kick him to kingdom come.’
Isabel picked up Perdu and put him on the ground near her. ‘Stay,’ she ordered before stretching to her full height. ‘Don’t ever threaten my dog.’
Isabel schooled her features in the hope that she looked unafraid and assured—the opposite of what she actually felt. ‘As you were saying, sir, you believed that the pendants were lost. Your hopes of getting this gone.’ She nodded to the casket. ‘Why did you remain here, Sir Geoffrey? Did you...did you have something to do with my father and brothers’ deaths?’
Isabel wasn’t certain that she really wanted to know, but she must have the truth for both her mother’s sake and her own.
‘Your father was as indolent as he was profligate. His dissolute sons no better,’ he spat. ‘These lands are littered with his bastards and I can tell you that many sighed a welcome relief when they learnt of his downfall.’
Bastards?
This man was surely lying. ‘It’s not true.’
‘Oh, but I’m afraid it is. What happened to your father and his sons was nothing short of justice.’ He took a step towards them. ‘Now, I shall say this one more time, Lady Isabel. Hand over the reliquary box to me.’
* * *
‘No.’ Will moved forward, blocking Isabel from the obnoxious toad. ‘I don’t think so. Come any closer and I skewer you from here to here,’ he said, indicating the man’s neck to his navel with the sharp point of his sword.
The short amount of time that Isabel had bought for him to come up with a solution meant that he had evaluated all their options and come up with very little. The only way out of this mess was to somehow get out of the chapel with the casket and with their lives intact.
Damn...
There were two entrances and one of them was blocked by Fitzwalter and his men, which meant their best hope was to aim for the side entrance. He jostled Isabel back and to the left of the nave, through the aisle towards it.
Slowly, oh, so very slowly, they moved back. Will surveyed every direction, noting any possible attack in his periphery.
Fitzwalter followed, prowling towards them as some of his men splintered off, moving around to the back to block their progress.
‘Have you got weaponry you can spare?’ Isabel mumbled from behind him.
‘Not this again,’ he hissed as he surreptitiously passed his dagger to her. ‘Take it, but try not to use it unless you have to.’
Their movement towards the side entrance was curtailed as two of Fitzwalter’s men catapulted themselves at Will from either side of the aisle.
‘Watch out, Will!’
He engaged one of them with his sword, dispatching him to the side with a handful of swipes before quickly tackling the other, who was also no match for him. ‘Take care, Isabel,’ he bellowed as he motioned towards the side entrance with his head. ‘Move behind me.’
More of Fitzwalter’s men came forward, their swords at the ready.
‘This is all so unnecessarily futile, Sir William.’
‘Just so. You can still do the honourable thing, Fitzwalter, and let us leave.’
‘Sadly, that’s not possible. Come now, hand me the casket and give yourselves up.’
‘I’m afraid not, Sir Geoffrey. Sadly, that really is not possible either,’ Isabel muttered from behind him, throwing the odious man’s words back at him.
God, but Will loved her! And he would do everything in his power—even give his life—to protect Isabel de Clancey. His life was expendable. Hers was not. And the moment to prove that, it seemed, was drawing closer. As long as he could get Isabel out of this perilous situation, then that was all that mattered.
They both kept walking backwards as Fitzwalter and his men swarmed around them from every direction. Will’s eyes darted around the chapel, trying to weigh up their chances of success, but, no, it did not bode well. He still could not think of how to get out of this hole they were in. They were simply outnumbered and Fitzwalter’s damned men were closing in. His heart was drumming a march. God’s breath, but it had come to this...
‘We’re up by the side door, Will,’ Isabel whispered from behind him. He could hear the little dog scratching his paws against the wooden frame.
‘Good.’ He maintained the positive note in his voice eve
n though he was beginning to doubt their chances. ‘See if you can open it. I’ll keep them at bay,’ he said under his breath.
No sooner had he uttered those words than he had to counter more strikes from sword blades from different directions.
‘The door’s stuck!’ Isabel muttered in anguish. ‘It won’t open.’
‘Try again,’ he roared as he defended another onslaught. ‘Quickly, Isabel.’
‘Come now, you are hemmed in.’ Fitzwalter’s voice reverberated from the hallowed walls. ‘All I want is the casket.’
‘Is that so?’ a familiar voice bellowed from the rear of Fitzwalter’s barricade.
They turned to find that another set of guards had streamed into the small chapel behind their leader—Hugh de Villiers.
Will’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief at the sight of his friend standing proudly in the middle of the maelstrom, his commanding presence creating the necessary shift of advantage.
Thank God!
Will caught Hugh’s eyes and made a single nod of gratitude, a lump forming in his throat at the expediency of his friend’s arrival.
Fitzwalter finally spoke. ‘Who are you, sir, and what are you doing here?’ His obvious shock at this intrusion manifested in outrage. ‘You are unwelcome. Take your men and leave.’
Hugh didn’t look at the man, but spoke to all of them. ‘I come at the behest of my friends, Sir William Geraint, Lady Isabel de Clancey, chatelaine of this castle, and William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke and Lord Protector of England. Throw down your weapons and surrender...or face the consequences.’
Will knew, from the way Fitzwalter’s jaw had set, there would be little chance of that. The man would not yield and intended to fight to the death. Which meant only one thing—the unpredictability of hand-to-hand combat.
‘You are surrounded by Lord Tallany and his men, Fitzwalter. Submit now.’ Will was astounded by the man’s singular ambition and greed. ‘As for you, men of Castle de Clancey, your fealty should be to your lady here and not to this man posing as lord. He is nothing but an imposter.’
Her Banished Knight's Redemption--The follow-up to award-winning story the Rebel Heiress and the Knight Page 21
