“Can you smell it? Truly?”
He sounded a little astonished, and she gave a small smile, enjoying how he did not seem to shy away from the fact that she was blind. “I can. I have a heightened sense of smell, and hearing, too. It’s very common for those who have lost a sense to discover the remaining ones more defined.”
“I’ve heard of the coming fall scenting the air, but never snow in winter.”
“Here. Stop for a moment and close your eyes.” He did, and when she was sure he stood quiet and still with his eyes pressed firmly shut, she said, “Now, take a deep breath and bring the air into your lungs.” He did as she requested, drawing the breath into his chest. “The air does have a scent,” he allowed. “And a taste I was never aware of before. But whether it is of impending snow or not, I cannot say.” They began strolling again, and Elizabeth allowed her gloved fingers to sink into the woollen sleeve of Sheldon’s coat. “When you see those first few flakes, my lord, go outside, close your eyes and draw in the air. You will find that it smells the same as it does now.”
“I will, Lady Elizabeth, if only to prove that my nose is not abysmal in skill.”
They laughed, and Jack began to jump and pull in excitement at the sounds they were making. “Down!” Sheldon barked, and the dog complied immediately, settling back into a pace the animal, Elizabeth knew, felt was too sedate.
“Poor old Jack, I’m slowing him up.”
“Nonsense. He just has to learn not everything is a race.”
“He is young, yes?”
“Not yet two.”
“Ah, yes, just a pup, then. Full of vinegar, young dogs are. I have no doubt he’ll settle in.”
“He’s doing much better than I thought he would,” Sheldon said, and Elizabeth heard pride in his voice. “In Egypt he had the run of the desert, catching whatever he desired. But now he’s been confined to strolls and manicured parks. This is his first ‘real’ walk in the park.
Normally by now I would be doubled over, out of breath after chasing him along the paths. The devilish creature has an inordinate fondness for ladies’ hems, I’m afraid.
He’s forever tugging at them, thinking it a grand game.
When they shriek in dismay, it only makes him want to play more.”
“Poor Jack.” Elizabeth laughed. “It’s rather like being a woman, all caged up and forbidden to let her hair down and race in the wind atop a gleaming horse. Stuffy old rules, aren’t they, Jack?”
The dog panted harder, and she fancied he was gazing up at her, his tongue lolling heavily, as if he understood that in her he had found a kindred spirit.
“Yes, they are stuffy rules, as you say.” Sheldon’s voice grew deeper, more thoughtful. “Do you ride, Elizabeth?”
“I used to, and when we are in the country my brother takes me riding with him. We can’t, of course, in the city. Rather unseemly for a lady to share a saddle with a gentleman, even if it is her brother. Besides, it’s safer for me to ride astride, and that would send the matrons of the ton into fits of paroxysms if they were to see me that way, looking like some wild creature from the moors.” He laughed at the mental picture she created. “Yes, I can see your point. But something tells me you would welcome a late-night ride or early dawn jaunt through the mists of the park, your hair blowing in the wind.”
“Oh, yes. It would be grand. I assume you are used to riding hell-bent through the desert on a magnificent black Arabian?”
“Once or twice,” he admitted. “But it would be a rather novel thing here in England. Would cause quite a stir if one was discovered being so reckless, and informally dressed, for I prefer nothing but boots, britches and a linen shirt when I ride.”
She could see him quite clearly on his horse, white shirt billowing in the breeze, against a backdrop of golden sand dunes. Why were only men allowed such luxuries?she thought with a sigh.
“Indeed it would be rather scandalous here in London.
That is why I only risk the scandal in the north, where there are none but sheep to tell on you.”
“Ah, yes. Quite. Nothing much but sheep, and amazing scenery up there, isn’t that correct?”
“That’s what makes it perfect.”
“Your family’s home is near Whitby, I understand.”
“It is. I used to run down a path from the estate that led to the beach. Tides can be a bit unpredictable there, but it was a fantastic spot for fossil collecting. Are you a collector, my lord?”
They kept up their pace, and Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the sounds of life going on around her. Jack was pulling again, and Sheldon was tugging on the leash, keeping him in line. When the earl was satisfied that the dog was minding him for the moment, he answered, “I am a collector. But then I think it’s a bit of a compulsion with archaeologists. We love to discover objects, but are loath to give them up. In my private collection, I have artefacts from Jerusalem, and a large number of Templar relics. Like you, I’ve been fascinated by the order since boyhood. I spent nearly a year working in the Holy City on a Royal Archaeological expedition at Temple Mount.
That is where I discovered the story of the three Templars I told you about yesterday.”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured, her voice growing faint. She fought the urge to nibble her lip nervously.
“As a connoisseur of Templars, Elizabeth, have you ever heard such a story before I shared it with you?”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” She was thankful for the veil, and the way it would shield the lie in her eyes. “Although I am aware that there are many stories and theories that link the Templars to religious artefacts. But none seem to hold up to any kind of intense scrutiny. After they were disbanded and murdered, so few remained of the order that their stories and artefacts have disappeared, much like the order itself. I doubt we shall ever really know the truth.”
“I believe very strongly that story of the three Templars is true. But what I’m most fascinated about—driven to find out, really—is if the tale of the fourth Templar is true. I have found some credible evidence that he did exist, but what happened to the quartet, I do not know.
I only know that his body was discovered in the desert.
Murdered. And the remaining three were gone, never to be heard from again. So, too, were the relics they were carrying out of Jerusalem when they fled the Holy Land for the safety of Scotland.”
“So the story of the fourth Templar stops there with his dead body, does it?”
“No, indeed it doesn’t. It goes forward quite a few centuries, in fact.”
Tiny hairs on her neck stood at attention. The story of the fourth Templar, she had been told, was a work of fiction. A fairy tale. There had only ever been three Templars who formed the Brethren Guardians: Sinjin York, her ancestor; Haelan St. Clair, the Marquis of Alynwick; and Drake Sheldon, the Earl of Black. She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. It hadn’t occurred to her before. Was it possible that the Sheldon surname was in any way related to this matter, and the earl’s title? Or was it merely coincidence? Still, her companion’s cryptic revelation drew her deeper into the story of the fourth Templar, who was supposed to have been murdered and betrayed by the three Brethren, many generations removed.
She had thought it only a medieval tale, but now there seemed evidence that it was more truth than fable. And perhaps a reason why this Orpheus fellow knew so much about the Brethren, and the relics? If, indeed, the trail of the fourth Templar did not die out, was it possible that Orpheus was part of his lineage? Was he seeking revenge upon the Brethren for wrongful deeds done to his ancestor? Seemed rather unlikely, but still, she must share this information with Sussex. It might very well be of help. Although it did not really aid them in understanding how Orpheus had connected their long-dead father’s past mistress to Sussex.
“The archaeologist in me,” Sheldon continued, “would give a king’s ransom to find the religious relics they smuggled out of the East. For certain, there was a chalice.” He paused, then sai
d quietly, “And a scroll that reportedly was hidden within the Ark of the Covenant.” Oh, dear… Already he knew far too much for her comfort. The York family had been entrusted with the chalice, and Alynwick’s family kept the scroll safe. The latter, as far as she knew, was the most important relic, for it was inscribed with the ways to bring all three artefacts together, and in a ceremony of alchemy, and black magic, give the person who possessed all three unimaginable power. Power that was never meant to be in the hands of a mere mortal.
If one believed in such things, of course. And Elizabeth, despite her good common sense, did.
“Do you think the Temple Church might hold any information about these relics you seek?”
“I hope so. What’s more, I think it might house clues about the identity of the three Templars, and where the artefacts might be.”
“Oh.” She most definitely needed to warn Sussex about this.
“Perhaps with our shared interest, we might discover the story together, Elizabeth.” How she hoped not. She could not allow him to unearth anything about the three Templars, or her connection to them. In a desperate bid to make him think of other things, she asked, “How versed on the Second Crusades are you?”
“Very,” he answered. It was said with a great deal of pride. “It’s my speciality. When in Jerusalem I unearthed a Templar cache of coin and jewels, hidden beneath the catacombs of Temple Mount.”
“No doubt hidden to keep it out of the greedy hands of King Philip.”
“Indeed. Philip IV was in dire need of funds at the time, and with the wealth the Templars had amassed, they were a prime target for his avarice and cruelty.”
“The Templars were in possession of enormous wealth and property, not only in the Holy Land and Eastern Europe, but Western Europe, as well,” she stated. “Philip was furious when he learned the Templars were shipping off their riches to faraway places to keep it safe. I heard, in fact, that many scholars believe the most priceless of their treasures and relics were sent to the New World, to a remote part of Nova Scotia. Which is quite a claim in itself, for if it is true, that would significantly predate the first explorer to land upon the New World’s shores.”
“You are very knowledgeable, Elizabeth.” She shrugged, careful to make sure she did not lose contact with his arm. “It’s a topic that is very near and dear to me. I find the Templars a fascinating study, a dichotomy of chivalry versus cruelty, the vows of faith, poverty and chastity clashing with ambition, wealth, a lust for a war that saw thousands of men, women and children die, all in the name of God. It seems a never-ending conflict of the good in humanity versus its uglier side.”
“Jerusalem, and Temple Mount in particular, mean so much to so many in our world. To the Jews it is the site of Solomon’s temple, to Muslims, it is fought over for Mo-hammed, and to Christians, it is claimed for God and his son. With that much passion and devotion for one place comes both the best and worst sides of the human race.
And the Templars were no different. They fell victim to their humanity.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. A sacred place for so many, but with different meaning for all. Tell me, where is this cache that you unearthed?”
Sheldon grew quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice took on a rough and dangerous edge. “Stolen, I am afraid. I was working one evening in a tomb where a religious relic was supposed to have been hidden. I discovered it while reading the confession of a tortured Templar during the Inquisition of the Templars.”
“What was this relic?” she gasped, unable to help herself. She felt his stare, the way he turned to watch her profile, which thankfully was concealed by the veil.
“A shroud, covered in red stains. Believed to be Christ’s burial shroud. The Templars reportedly took their vows before it, and spent their night in prayer and contemplation the night before taking orders.”
“And did you find it?”
“I did not. I was struck from behind before I could get very far in the excavation. The blow was intended to knock me out, but I fought my attacker, and saw who it was.”
“Who was it?” she asked breathlessly, intrigued and excited.
“A colleague of mine, Mr. Nigel Lasseter. Bloody hell, I taught the bastard everything I knew about excavation.
Oh, pardon my language, Elizabeth.” The world seemed to be pulled from beneath her feet, and she felt her legs give way, unable to support her.
“Here now,” he said softly, “I’ve got you.”
“I tripped over a stone, I think,” she said, her entire body now trembling. So close… It seemed strangely compelling, yet utterly frightening how things appeared to be drawing them together, linking not only their interests, but their pasts. Like sacred geometry, there was a force drawing the lines, and somewhere in the middle they would find answers to what they each were seeking.
“Well, I have you now,” he said, holding her close.
“You’re safe.”
“Is everything all right, Lady Elizabeth?” Maggie asked, as Sheldon slowly released his hold of her arms.
“Yes, just a stone, I think, Maggie. I am quite all right, thanks to Lord Sheldon’s remarkably quick reflexes.”
“Shall we return to the carriage, Elizabeth?” he asked.
“No, no, we mustn’t. Not yet. I have far too many questions to quit this walk.”
He laughed. “Very well. Let us continue on.” They resumed their stroll, and Elizabeth sorted through the facts she was hearing. This was not the first time that Nigel Lasseter’s name had come up within the circle of the Brethren Guardians. Lasseter had a personal connection with Wendell Knighton, who at one time had been the suitor of Isabella—now Lord Black’s wife. Knighton had wound up murdered, by, her brother believed, the man who called himself Orpheus.
What an eerie kinship, Lizzy thought. Nigel Lasseter connected to Sheldon, as well as to Black via his wife’s dead suitor.
Sacred geometry at work once more. If she possessed sight, she would have drawn it out. Shown the lines, the connections between souls who hadn’t even known each other or crossed paths until only a few weeks ago. How strange… The Temple Church was considered a building displaying the proportions and theories of sacred geometry, and Sheldon was going to do a dig there, searching for the story of the three Templars. As well, Sheldon had a deep and personal connection with Lasseter. All of a sudden, her mind could not keep up with the many lines it was drawing and connecting.
“You are deep in thought, Lizzy,” Sheldon said. “What questions do you have for me?”
“What happened to Mr. Lasseter?”
“After beating me senseless and leaving me for dead, he left Jerusalem with the cache. He’s been selling it off, a few pieces at a time. That is all I know. Well, that, and I have heard he is here in London.” Something in his voice told Elizabeth Sheldon wasn’t fully telling the truth. She could hardly be angry at him for that, though, for she wasn’t telling the truth, either.
They were merely protecting what they thought they should. Perhaps she should admit to him that Lasseter was, indeed, in London. But if the earl took to searching for him, he might discover information that would lead him to draw lines between Lasseter and Isabella’s old suitor, and possibly the Brethren themselves. And that she could not allow, so instead, she pretended ignorance.
“And the shroud? Did you ever discover it?” she asked, trying to get back to a safer topic.
“It wasn’t there, but I found a piece of the True Cross.”
“The one that the Bishop of Acre reportedly carried into battle at the Horns of Hattin?”
“The very one. The one Saladin captured, and then ransomed back to the Crusaders when the Muslims surrendered the city.”
“What was it like?” she gasped, wishing she could have been there, working beside him. To touch something of such historical importance… She couldn’t imagine it.
“It was in poor repair, falling apart, really, but it was wrapped in cloth with the description of w
hat it was.
Holding it in my hands was the most gratifying moment of my life. Even more so than finding the Templar cache.”
“Where is it now?”
“The British Museum, with the new curator of medieval studies. I delivered it there myself.”
“How rewarding it must be to discover such fascinating objects. To learn of people and civilizations that have not been heard of for centuries.”
“It is. It’s why I am so thankful that I have been granted access to the Temple Church. I did not want to give up my profession, but knew I had a responsibility to my family to honour and uphold the title. I am fortunate that for a while at least I will be able to wear both hats.
I will discover the full story of the Templars, Lizzy. I’ve vowed to, and when I make a promise, I never go back on it. Even if it is only a promise to myself.” Elizabeth knew she would somehow have to prevent him from fulfilling that promise. There was one way, she mused, that might distract him from it, at least for a short time.
How she hoped this would help dissuade him from thinking over much on unearthing the secrets of the Brethren Guardians. “Well, I have in my possession a diary from the Crusades. It belonged to a Templar knight, and it’s an account of his affair with a mysterious lady.” He stopped, shocked. She heard his startled breath.
“Are you quite certain? The Templars took a vow of chastity and poverty.”
“Yes, quite sure. The entries are rather…detailed.
What is more, the woman in question appears to be one of wealth and rank. Their affair was kept secret, not only because of his vow, but to protect her identity, as well.
You see, forbidden from both sides.”
“Fascinating. Who was she?”
“That is the mystery, I am afraid. She is only iden-tified as the Veiled Lady. It’s been a goal of mine for many years to discover her name. Thus far, I have not been successful in my attempts to lift the veil of secrecy, as it were.”
“And the knight?”
This was where she must lie again. “Oh, I have no idea, really. I just happened to come across the book years ago in an old, musty bookshop. Some pages are missing, and the writer never discloses his identity. I suppose because he had taken a vow of chastity.”
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