Treasure Me

by Robyn DeHart

  “We’re here,” he said.

  “We’re where, precisely?” she asked.

  “My home. My mother’s home.” It occurred to him in that moment precisely what he’d done tonight. Yes, he’d rescued the girl from a dangerous situation. But he could have done so without allowing Angus and the rest of those men to goad him into a meaningless ceremony. He could have simply swept the girl out of the room and brought her to another, safer inn closer to Inverness.

  But instead he’d brought her home.

  Chapter Three

  Once Graeme had safely deposited Vanessa in his old bedroom, he made his way to the small kitchen at the back of the house. There was no reason to wake his family to notify them that they had guests; tomorrow morning would be here soon enough, but he was hungry.

  The kitchen looked the same as it always did. A table with six chairs was off to the side, calico curtains hung in the small window at the back wall, not a crumb, nor any dish left out of the cupboards. A loaf of bread rolled up in a towel sat on top of the stove. He took a seat at the wooden table with a hunk of the herbed bread slathered in butter.

  Tomorrow Graeme would convince Vanessa that Scotland was no place for an unaccompanied single lady. She should make her way back to London. Certainly her family would understand her need to flee her wedding under such circumstances.

  Graeme needed her off his hands so he could focus intently on catching up on his own research. It had been several long months since he’d been able to get back here, and his work locating the Stone of Destiny had suffered.

  While he was here in Scotland, he hoped to finally be able to locate an artifact that would enable him to decipher the secret code of a handwritten section in The Magi’s Book of Wisdom. He’d tried without the decoder. Ever since he’d first glanced through the book, he’d worked on that code, employing every tactic he could to uncover the meaning. But so far nothing had worked.

  He’d searched for it every time he’d returned to Scotland, but he’d had no luck thus far. But he’d recently found some old letters between two monks that said “the key had been hidden away to protect the royal ones.” Because the Stone of Destiny had been fought over by kings for generations, Graeme felt certain the key was the decoder he sought.

  Graeme had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard his mother’s approach until she appeared in the kitchen, a huge log held over her head.

  She took one look at him and closed her eyes in relief. “You scared the devil out of me, boy.” Moira stepped over to him, set the log on the floor, then popped him on the head with her open hand. “Coming in to the house and not even letting us know you’re here. Where is your head, Graeme? I could have killed you, you know?”

  He chuckled. “Of that I have no doubt.” He’d been in many dangerous situations, yet being clubbed to death by his mother, who barely reached his chest, seemed a humorous way to perish.

  “What were you doing sneaking in like that?” she asked.

  “I brought a woman here,” he said. Not the best way that he could have alerted her to Vanessa’s presence. He chalked it up to being tired after a long journey.

  “Did ya now?” Moira asked. She dropped herself into a chair across from him and smiled. She clutched her dressing gown tighter around her body.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking, Mother. She’s English and was at the pub. Alone. Got herself into a bit of trouble, and I figured she’d be safer staying here.”

  “Right you are. That place is none too gentle on the fairer sex.” Moira took a bite of Graeme’s bread and chewed thoughtfully.

  A knock sounded at the front door of the house.

  “Expecting someone?” Graeme asked as he came to his feet.

  “Not at this hour,” she said, following close behind him. “Hurry, before they wake the rest of the house.”

  Graeme opened the door to find Jensen, the leader of Solomon’s, standing in the cold. A hired hackney waited behind him. “Jensen. Come in.”

  “I do apologize for bothering you here. I tried to catch you before you left London, but I missed you. This is of dire importance. Is there somewhere we can speak?” He eyed Moira, but said nothing.

  “I’ll leave you two to your privacy,” she said, obviously taking the not-so-subtle hint. She left them standing in the front parlor, a room not quite big enough to do significant entertaining, but it would serve the purpose of a late-night meeting.

  “Someone has broken into Westminster,” Jensen said as soon as Moira was out of earshot. “The police are not even certain how the perpetrator got inside, as the guards remained in place through the night.”

  “Bribery,” Graeme said. “I don’t suppose even the queen’s guards are above that.”

  Jensen nodded. “Indeed.” The man stepped over to a chair near the hearth and sat.

  “What did they take?” Graeme asked, but somehow he knew precisely what Jensen was about to say. Why else would the man be here to talk to him?

  “The Stone of Destiny,” Jensen said.

  “The counterfeit one,” Graeme corrected.

  Jensen nodded. It was common knowledge in Solomon’s that Graeme fervently believed that the Stone of Destiny housed within Westminster Abbey was a forgery.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised. It seems a worthy token to have, if one believed it to be the true piece,” Graeme said. “But there are certainly other treasures, more valuable ones, housed elsewhere in London.”

  “Precisely. Why would someone want,” Jensen paused, “pardon the disrespect, a piece of sandstone?”

  Graeme had to smile. There were plenty who didn’t understand his quest to find the real Stone of Destiny. Hell, there were times when even he wasn’t certain why he felt such a burning desire to locate it. But he knew it was an artifact that the Scottish people revered. King Edward I had stolen it from Scotland, and Graeme wanted nothing more than to return it to them.

  “The answer to that question is what’s bothering us,” Jensen said.

  “Well, there are those who believe the stone to be a biblical relic,” Graeme said.

  “Yes,” Jensen said. “The pillow stone upon which Jacob had his prophetic dreams.” Then he paused a moment before adding, “Graeme, please sit.”

  Graeme did as he was bade, not out of obedience, but more from curiosity. Jensen had been a member of Solomon’s for more than twenty years and, for the most part, kept to himself. He tended to engage other members only when it was time to invite someone new into the club, or if there was a problem that needed an immediate solution. As in this current situation, Graeme assumed.

  “Recently some potentially troubling things have come to our attention,” Jensen said.

  The man always spoke in the plural. Graeme knew there were others that worked in the background of Solomon’s, but for the most part “we” usually meant only Jensen. “And?” Graeme said.

  Jensen clasped his long fingers together across his lap. “I’m afraid it’s in reference to your cousin.”

  “My cousin?” Graeme asked.

  “Yes, Niall Ludley,” Jensen said.

  Ah. He nodded. Graeme, of course, knew Niall. They’d grown up together. But he rarely considered him family. His father’s side. The English side. Niall was Graeme’s father’s sister’s son and now bore the title of the Earl of Camden. Graeme had assumed that Niall would be more like Graeme’s father and the rest of their English peers—cold. So he’d not invested much time in having more than a friendly relationship.

  “I’m afraid if this is in reference to Niall,” Graeme said, “I won’t be of much service. We aren’t exactly close.”

  “Meaning what precisely?” Jensen asked.

  “Meaning I know him.” Graeme shrugged. “We’re courteous, but we aren’t close like brothers.” Like family ought to be.

  “But you knew he was a member of Solomon’s as well,” Jensen said.

  Graeme nodded slowly. “I do recall reading about his membership a few years ago
in the newsletter.”

  Jensen’s eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised.” A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “Because you keep close watch as to what all of your relations are doing?” Graeme asked. He uncrossed one leg, then crossed the other.

  Jensen chuckled. “No, of course not. But I would have thought his particular interest would pique your own curiosity.”

  “Remind me,” Graeme said. He leaned back in the chair, resting his hands across his abdomen.

  “The Loch Ness treasure.”

  Graeme did remember reading about that. “Right.” It hadn’t surprised him. Even as a child, Niall had always wanted to go with Graeme to Scotland. Thankfully Niall’s mother had had prejudices against the “wilds of the north” as she’d called them and never let her son go. But it stood to reason that as a boy, he’d been interested in the land, and as a man, he’d come to study a bit of it. Graeme remembered now when Niall had built another home here, and how he’d invited them all over for dinner.

  “Are you familiar?” Jensen asked.

  “With the legend of the treasure? Aye, I have heard tale of it.”

  Jensen leaned forward. “And the connection to the Kingmaker, have you heard of that?”

  Something tickled at the back of Graeme’s mind, but he couldn’t recollect any mention of a Kingmaker. “There are many theories involving the Stone of Destiny, but I’ve never heard it referred to as a Kingmaker.”

  “The Stone of Destiny and the Kingmaker are not synonymous, Graeme, but rather two separate items,” Jensen said.

  “I do not mean to be rude, Jensen, but I’m unsure of why you’ve traveled all this way. Merely to educate me on my cousin’s research? Or to discuss Scottish lore of ancient treasures?” Graeme said.

  “Bear with me a moment longer, and I believe it will all begin to make sense to you,” Jensen said. Once Graeme had nodded, the older man continued. “The legend of the Kingmaker states that any person to have the four royal stones in their possession would, in turn, become King.” Jensen shook his head. “The idea that a mere legend would jeopardize Her Majesty’s claim to the crown is, of course, ridiculous.”

  “Of course,” Graeme agreed, but that thought continued to nag his mind. The missing decoder was supposedly hidden to protect the royals; perhaps that too had something to do with this Kingmaker.

  “However,” Jensen continued, “We cannot ignore that the situation is troubling. If someone is indeed moving to collect these royal stones in an attempt to complete the Kingmaker, then the intent behind the threat is real, if not the danger itself. There are many who believe this is precisely how William of Normandy claimed the crown of England. Of course we have no actual proof of that.” Jensen paused, then cleared his throat. “As for any mystical powers the Kingmaker might actually possess…”

  Jensen let his words trail off. Another man might have infused the words mystical powers with scorn, but not Jensen. By and large, the men of Solomon’s were scientists and explorers. Rational men. Yet they were also adventurers. And Graeme had witnessed firsthand the cursed bracelets when his friend Fielding had unearthed Pandora’s box. He knew all too well the mysteries that lay between reality and legend.

  “And the Loch Ness treasure is one of those four royal stones?” Graeme asked.

  “We believe so. Supposedly, the others are guarded by similar creatures,” Jensen said.

  “You mean the water kelpie,” Graeme said with a smile.

  “Indeed.” Jensen did not sneer, but his tone held a hint of cynicism.

  Evidently Jensen was not a believer. Graeme had many a memory of listening to his family weave tales of kelpie sightings. As much time as he’d spent in these highlands, he’d never even seen a glimpse. However, he knew his family believed. Most Scots did. But he never questioned it one way or another. What did it matter to him if there was a beastie swimming in the dark waters of Loch Ness?

  “The fabled dragon guarding the treasure,” Graeme said. “So what does this have to do with Niall?” Graeme drummed his fingers on the side table. “You believe him to be after this Kingmaker? Because someone took the stone from Westminster.”

  Jensen released a heavy breath. “Either he is or he’s working with someone else who is after it. Either way, his behavior before he left London had been curious for several weeks. We need you to check in on him. See if you can’t discover precisely what he’s working on, and who he’s working with, if he has a partner.”

  “Where is he?” Graeme asked.

  “Here. Loch Ness. He’s been here for a few days. We’ve also intercepted some of his communication, which is oddly vague. The evidence is not conclusive, and we merely need to be certain before we confront him.”

  “I see.” Graeme leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “So you want me to spy on him?” Graeme asked.

  “Precisely. Extend your visit with your family. It’s lovely up here this time of year, isn’t it?” Jensen asked with a mischievous grin.

  “Ah yes, winter in the Highlands. Nothing like having only a few hours of daylight.”

  “Reconnect with your long-lost cousin,” Jensen said.

  “One more question,” Graeme said. “What does all of this have to do with the Stone of Destiny?”

  Vanessa pressed her ear against the heavy wooden door to try to hear more of their conversation. She assumed the speakers sat in the room directly outside of hers. The walls in the cottage were not thin enough to hear everything, but she was able to decipher some key phrases. She knew she’d distinctly heard something about a hidden treasure. Certainly she would not have misheard something that intriguing. She stood up straight.

  There had also been mention of Westminster. A treasure hidden in the abbey; is that what they meant? She’d never heard a tale of such a thing.

  When Graeme was talking, his deep brogue seemed to penetrate the walls and breeze over her skin. He spoke of the Stone of Destiny. Counterfeit? Certainly not; that stone had been in the abbey for hundreds of years. Was that the treasure of which they spoke?

  She pressed her ear tightly to the door and held her breath. The other gentleman certainly sounded English, and she could tell from his manner of speech that he was educated.

  “Loch Ness treasure.” She heard those three words perfectly. It would seem in her quest to find fossils, she had stumbled upon a most captivating mystery.

  Perhaps when the voices stilled, and the house grew quiet, she’d sneak out to do some investigation. Graeme was hiding something. Clearly he was no simple Scotsman. And she could rarely resist a good puzzle. Granted, her inquisitive nature had gotten her in trouble on more than one occasion in the past, but she had learned from some mistakes and now was more careful, more guarded.

  Vanessa sat on the floor, leaning against the door, and continued to listen. Their conversation had quieted to whispers now, but she did not know if they had retreated to another part of the house or if they had simply lowered their voices. Twenty minutes later, Vanessa heard only silence. For good measure, she waited another hour before venturing out of her room.

  The house wasn’t large, the rooms close together, so she was thankful that she’d had the good sense to remove her shoes. Any noise she made could easily wake Graeme and his family. If she was caught, she would simply say that she’d gotten thirsty and had gone in search of something to drink.

  The three doors down the hall from hers were most likely other bedchambers, so she decided to go back the way Graeme had brought her in. She passed through the parlor, a small dining room, and then stumbled upon what appeared to be a study. She crept through the partially opened doorway and examined her surroundings. A fire still burned in the hearth, though it had not been stoked for a while, and the flames were beginning to die out. She found a lantern on the desk and lit it so that soft light flooded the area.

  On the desk, she found some texts lying open, but they were nothing particularly out of the ordinary. However, beneath them, s
he found handwritten notes as well as a journal and two maps spread open. The notes detailed the existence of something called the Kingmaker. She’d heard the man who visited Graeme mention a word she hadn’t quite understood—but “Kingmaker”—that was what he’d said. She fell into the chair behind the desk and pulled the notes to her.

  According to legend, the Kingmaker was precisely what it sounded like, a relic that would make someone a ruler once they had it in their possession.

  Only it wasn’t simply one relic. It was composed of four royal stones—the Stone of Destiny, and then three gems, all named for important kings. King David’s stone, a sapphire, represented wisdom. King William I’s stone, a ruby, represented courage. And King Robert Bruce’s, an emerald, represented authority. Certainly it was the latter whose treasure was tied to Loch Ness.

  Surely no one actually believed that if they had a certain collection of rocks in their possession, they would magically become king? Still, Vanessa knew that people could believe in nearly anything. And it seemed people these days were eager to believe in the unexplained. Hadn’t she seen an advertisement in the newspaper of an exhibit at a London museum featuring relics rumored to be cursed? So it was feasible that someone might accept the legend of the Kingmaker as truth.

  She set aside the notes and moved on to the maps. They were both hand drawn, and while one depicted the inner workings of a series of caverns, the other appeared to be where those caverns were located.

  While it was clearly not a professional map, the level of detail was admirable. The loch covered a small portion at the bottom of the drawing, but just above the water’s edge she could see what appeared to be an entrance into a cave. Then high upon the hill, above the loch, sat Urquhart Castle, with a staircase that led into yet another set of caverns. Judging by the distance between the two entrances, Vanessa would wager these were the same set of caverns but with two separate entries.

  There were marks on some of the caves as if they had already been searched and marked off the list. Excitement bubbled inside her. It would seem that she had found the very caves she needed to visit for her own research.