by Jenna Kernan
Frowning at the thought, Nicholas continued on, watching his steps even as he peered into the darkness ahead and studied the surrounding walls. It was slow going. Eventually, he began to wonder if the tunnel even led to Temple Roode. Perhaps they had passed some hidden niche that would have taken them to the preceptory or were caught in an endless loop, a vast maze below ground.
But then the light glinted upon something in front of them. Stretching out one arm, Nicholas gestured for Emery to stay behind while he inched forwards, keeping his body as close to the side of the tunnel as possible. Their path had remained level for some time, so they were probably well below any buildings above. Yet the narrow passage opened on to a wider space ahead, making Nicholas proceed with caution.
For long moments, he stood waiting and listening. When he heard nothing, he lifted the lantern closer to the opening. The light seemed to be swallowed up by the greater darkness, then it glittered upon shadowy surfaces. At first Nicholas thought they had stumbled upon a cavern of some sort, but it was not like any he had ever seen. Curious, he took a step and held the lantern higher, only to realise he was not looking at the exposed rock and ore of a catacomb, but something created by man.
Nicholas heard Emery’s low intake of breath as the boy reached his side, and he could only marvel, as well. Whether originally an existing cave or something dug from the earth, the place in which they found themselves had been well worked by the Templars. In fact, it seemed that every inch of the surrounding walls was covered with carvings even more strange than those in the church: circles, swords, crosses, outlines of figures, arcane symbols and depictions of scenes, some of them holy, some wholly unrecognisable.
The carvings reached as far as the eye could see, or at least as far as could be illuminated. Stretching upwards to plunge into blackness, they must have taken years, perhaps decades or more, to complete. For long moments Nicholas simply stood staring, but when Emery would have stepped forwards, he stopped the boy with a gesture.
He had been looking up, rather than down, and Nicholas bent low to examine the ground before entering the chamber. Although it looked sturdy, he kept to the
perimeter as he made his way inside, Emery at his heels. At first, he thought the surrounding walls formed a circle, much like the Templar church, but when he reached the halfway point, he realised he was standing within an octagon.
‘What is this place?’ Emery whispered.
Nicholas glanced towards a dark niche that might serve as an altar. ‘Perhaps it is used for worship.’
‘Surely not by the Templars,’ Emery protested, sounding as unsure as Guy about the order.
Nicholas shrugged, for he knew little of what went on in religious houses. Still, he suspected few harboured hidden rooms, especially an underground cavern like this one. ‘Mayhap it has been here for centuries and the Templars simply turned it to their own needs.’
Although Emery looked sceptical, Nicholas wasn’t concerned with the purpose of the place, only where it might lead. But a cursory glance revealed no exit, and he wondered whether they had walked all this way only to view a curious site, perhaps long forgotten. Were they below the preceptory or somewhere else, maybe even in a passage connecting two churches, one above and another below?
Wary of spending too much time in the tunnel, Nicholas gave the lantern to Emery, while he searched more carefully. He looked for the kind of stone they had found in the church, a carving of a Green Man, mouth wide open, as though in some sort of agony.
As he moved onwards, Emery followed, providing the light for his inspections. Although the boy could not be faulted, Nicholas felt distracted, for he was all too aware of his companion’s nearness. He even had an unnerving urge to turn towards the boy, which he promptly quelled.
What the devil ailed him? The answer that came only unnerved him more. Was it growing warm in here? Had the air become close? With a grunt, Nicholas forced himself to focus. All he had to do now was find the opening. But what if it lay above them? Without a ladder or rope, they could not hope to scale these walls. And the entrance might be unrecognisable, perhaps something he had already passed.
And as if he wasn’t grappling with enough, his light dipped, casting wild shadows upon the very area he was trying to examine. With a low oath, Nicholas turned to rebuke the boy, but the reprimand died on his lips. Emery had gone pale and wide-eyed, as though staring at some unseen horror.
‘What is it?’ Nicholas whispered.
Emery raised a hand to point in the direction of other carvings, most notably one of a Templar over five feet in height. ‘I thought...’ the boy began, only to trail off, as though unable to continue.
‘What?’
‘I thought I saw something,’ Emery whispered, haltingly. ‘A pair of eyes watching us.’
Motioning the boy to silence, Nicholas put a hand to the hilt of his sword. Anything might be waiting in the blackness that lay outside their small circle of light. Bats were common enough in caves, but other, less friendly creatures might have wandered into the tunnel—or be kept there by the Templars to guard their secrets.
Nicholas rose slowly to his feet, though he saw nothing stirring and heard no scurrying or snarling. He turned to scan the rest of the chamber, but Emery stopped him with a gesture.
‘No, they were there,’ the boy insisted, pointing at the carving of the Templar. ‘Its eyes...looked like...human eyes.’
Nicholas would have dismissed such a claim, but Emery did not seem given to whimsy, and the strangeness of their surroundings made anything seem possible. The boy had not declared that the stone came to life, just that it had human eyes, and he considered the answer to such a puzzle.
Approaching cautiously, Nicholas motioned for Emery to hold the lantern for closer inspection. One of the largest of the carvings, the Templar resembled those that graced the tombs of such knights, except the figure was standing upright, his huge sword in front of him, pointing downwards.
Moving closer, Nicholas reached towards the dark recesses of its features, touching a finger to the sightless orbs. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find the sockets empty, but the surface was as solid and cold as any statue. Perhaps Emery had been fooled by a trick of the light. Still, Nicholas ran his hand over the figure’s outline, attempting to move it as he had the stone in the church. It did not budge.
Reaching the bottom, he sat back on his haunches, eyeing the sword that pointed towards the earth at his feet. It was no different than any other of the outcroppings, yet its size and position made it more realistic than the others, as though it stood guard over something. Nicholas slid his fingers into the crevice below, and this time, he felt something give.
Tugging at the sword, Nicholas pulled the entire piece outwards and wondered if he had finally found the entrance to the preceptory. But Emery’s gasp of alarm made him step back. Had he opened some kind of crypt, or was something very much alive hidden inside? He could only hope that Emery’s brother was not entombed within.
Drawing his sword, Nicholas was prepared for anything, but when the makeshift door swung wide, no corpse was revealed, only the small figure of a man. He was no warrior, either, but wore the brown robes and serene expression of a monk. And unlike Brother Gilbert, he appeared unconcerned by the sight of the visitors, even in this underground sanctum.
However, he closed the portal before turning to face them, hands clasped before him calmly. ‘You have no need of your weapon here, my lord,’ he said in a soft voice. Old and wizened, he was hardly a threat, especially with the entrance shut behind him. None the less, he was an imposing figure and appeared to know more than he should.
Although Nicholas sheathed his sword, he vowed to keep his wits about him and nodded at Emery, glad to see the boy’s hand steady upon the lantern.
‘I am Father Faramond and I have been expecting you,’ the priest said.
&
nbsp; Nicholas heard Emery’s indrawn breath at the words, but, unlike Guy, he did not think the Templars possessed of any unnatural powers. There was a more sensible explanation for this greeting and Faramond soon gave it.
‘Knowing your sire, Nicholas de Burgh, I feared you would not be easily dissuaded or dismissed,’ he said.
‘It was you behind the eyes of the carving, looking at us through some kind of slit,’ Nicholas said.
The priest nodded. ‘It is an old device, a precaution of our forebears, yet none in all these years have penetrated to this, our most private of places.’
‘And what is the punishment for intrusion, Father?’ Emery asked. By his tone, the boy expected the worst, though Nicholas had no intention of being killed for trespassing, no matter how ancient or sacred the site. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword, a nearly imperceptible movement, yet the priest must have noticed.
‘Although we are a military order, we do not do murder, my lord.’
Nicholas was glad to hear it, but considering his earlier reception at Temple Roode, he was not prepared to trust any of the brethren, no matter how unassuming. At least not yet. So he kept his hand where it was, just in case the killing of enemies of the order extended to those who might reveal their secrets. And he tendered a warning. ‘If you know my father, then I hope you would not rouse the wrath of the de Burghs.’
‘And I hope that I might trust such a one not to betray us,’ Faramond answered, his tone gentle but firm.
Lifting his brows, Nicholas nodded his agreement and a silent understanding passed between them before the priest turned towards Emery. ‘As for you, child, you are bound by more than he to keep your silence.’
Emery paled and nodded, as though fearful, a circumstance that made Nicholas’s fingers tighten around his weapon. ‘If we are the first to penetrate this place, how did you know to look for us, or do you keep watch here at all times?’
‘Oh, no,’ Faramond said. ‘We rarely gather here any more. I instructed one of the shepherds to report upon your whereabouts. When you went directly to the church, I took up my position here. The de Burghs are known to be tenacious, among their many admirable qualities.’
Faramond paused. ‘However, my brethren may not be as untroubled as I by your incursion. Therefore, let us make this meeting as brief as possible. What is it you seek at Temple Roode, my lord?’
‘As I told Brother Gilbert, who was less than helpful, I am looking for a Templar knight who gave his name as Gwayne. He assaulted me as well as this young man’s brother, Gerard Montbard, a Hospitaller who is now missing.’
‘I am sorry that you were made unwelcome and realise that is why you were driven to other means,’ the priest said. He shook his head. ‘I told the others not to deny a de Burgh, but they are afraid. Someone brought word to the preceptory that Gwayne had been seen not far from here and they cower, lest he return, although we no longer claim him as our own.’
‘Why?’ Nicholas asked.
Faramond glanced away. ‘He was charged with an important task, which he did not fulfil.’
‘What was that?’
The priest sighed and looked towards the empty niche. ‘I can speak little of this, my lord. Know only that
he possesses something that does not belong to him.’ He shook his head. ‘His appearance in the area is both unexpected and dismaying. But perhaps he has come to do penance for his wrongs—that is the outcome for which I will pray.’
Straightening, he faced them both again. ‘Now, I fear that I must ask that you leave this place, never to speak of it to any other, even your own father, the great Campion himself.’
‘What of my brother?’ Emery asked.
Faramond eyed Emery sadly. ‘I know nothing of the Hospitallers, nor why Gwayne would assault one of them. I know only that despite the robe he wears, he is not to be trusted.’
‘So he stole something from this place?’ Nicholas asked, gesturing towards the carved walls, steeped in Templar mysteries, that surrounded them.
‘Oh, no,’ the priest said, turning once again to Nicholas. ‘He was given the mace.’
* * *
Emery followed closely after Lord de Burgh, eager to put the Templar cave behind her. She was aware of the power wielded by the religious orders, but nothing could have prepared her for the eerie chamber full of strange carvings with eyes that moved...
Emery shuddered at the memory. It had taken every ounce of her will not to flee in that instant. Only thoughts of Gerard had kept her where she was. Once it became clear that he had nothing to do with the place, she had been more than ready to go.
But Lord de Burgh had lingered, asking more questions about Gwayne and the object he was given, despite the fact that Father Faramond provided few answers and Emery did not want to hear them. Although she had given little credence to Guy’s gossip about the order, she suspected that the less they knew about the Templars’ secrets, the better their chance of escaping retribution.
What did she care about their relics? And why should Lord de Burgh? His interest made her wonder whether he had his own reasons for seeking the hidden tunnels. She reminded herself to trust no one, yet she inched ever nearer to the man as she peered over her shoulder, half-expecting to spy something hurtling towards them through the blackness.
Although she did not want to believe that holy men were capable of murder, she felt a growing unease. Perhaps no Templar knights would be sent to trap them in the narrow passage, but other mishaps could be easily arranged—boulders, fire or flood—that would entomb them here, ensuring their silence. The thought made her glance back again and, though she saw nothing, Emery felt a jolt as she slammed into Lord de Burgh’s hard body.
‘In a hurry?’ he asked. His tone was one of amusement and, thankfully, he did not pause to look her way. But Emery was reminded that she had cause to be wary of everything, both in front and behind, here in the darkness.
‘We shall arrive at the end soon enough, if we tread carefully,’ he said.
And if they suffered no interference, Emery thought. But when they reached the church, what would they find there? ’Twould be an easy task for someone to overpower Guy and plug the hole from whence they had entered.
‘The question is, where shall we go once we emerge?’ he asked.
At the great knight’s words, Emery’s steps faltered and she struggled not to stumble with dismay. She had been so concerned about escaping the Templars that she had been distracted from her purpose. But now the passage’s dangers receded, replaced by a new, greater fear.
‘I do not know where to look for your brother,’ Lord de Burgh said. ‘And we might roam these moors for days without news of him or Gwayne.’
Emery’s heart lurched, for she could not argue with the truth. And this man had done what he could to aid her; she could not expect him to dally with her for ever. As a de Burgh, he would have other commitments, perhaps even to the king himself. But if he gave up the hunt for Gerard, she would be left alone, with few resources and no mount, her quest doomed to failure and her future bleak.
‘Have you no notion where your brother might go?’ he asked.
Emery grunted a denial, unable to speak.
‘His first thought was for you, but having assured himself of your safety, perhaps he travelled on to others who merited his concern,’ he said. ‘What of your parents?’
Was he asking idle questions, or did he intend to continue the search? Emery felt so dizzy with relief at that possibility that she nearly reached out a hand to steady herself against his broad back. Instead, she swallowed hard and found her voice.
‘Our mother died in childbed and our father succumbed more than a year ago to a long illness.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, investing the simple phrase with such sincerity that Emery could only murmur her t
hanks. Garbed as she was, she could hardly explain that she mourned not only the passing of her father, but the life she had once known.
‘Have you any other siblings?’
‘No,’ Emery said. It had just been the three of them, their father choosing to raise his twins alone—and together. Instead of being sent away or shunted aside, Emery had run free with her brother, schooled along with him in the skills of men. It had been both a blessing and a curse, for although Emery could not regret one moment of the past, it made the present that much harder to bear.
‘What of other relatives? Is there no one else with whom your brother might seek shelter?’
‘There is only our uncle,’ Emery said. ‘But I doubt that Gerard would go to him.’ Or would he? If her brother was desperate or feverish, he might head home, especially since he was not aware of the lengths to which Harold had gone to claim their heritage.
‘Why would he not go to your uncle?’
Emery drew a deep breath. ‘Harold convinced our ailing father to assign his property to the Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem. Then he convinced Gerard to join the order, conveniently giving up any claims he might have to his legacy.’
‘’Tis not uncommon for men to provide for their widows and children in such a manner,’ he said. ‘Do you suspect your uncle of some ulterior motive?’
‘I suspect him of colluding with the master of the commandery to get what they both wanted,’ Emery said, her frustration spilling forth. ‘The brethren often had encroached upon our land, causing disagreements over the years. Now they have the disputed fields and my uncle has the manor he always coveted.’
‘And what of you?’
The simple question brought Emery back to her senses, for there her candour must end. Even if she trusted Lord de Burgh completely, there were some things she could not share. Thankful for the cloaking darkness, she drew a deep breath and chose her answer carefully. ‘I live in the old gatehouse...through an arrangement with the Hospitallers.’
