by J. L. Jarvis
“You heard me. Swear that neither you nor your men will do harm to the lady.”
With a light laugh, the priest said, “I swear before God and on my Jesuit oath that we’ll not harm her.”
Robert pulled off the quiver containing the scroll. “First let her go.”
“Seize him,” ordered the priest with a shrug. His companions forced the scroll from Robert’s hands and started to drag him away, but the priest told them to stop. “I don’t want him to miss this. I’ve never been defeated until I met you. Now you’ll pay for that privilege.”
The priests led Violet and Robert to a hole in the ruined part of the castle.
“We’re in luck. The oubliette is still here.” The leader smiled at Robert. “Of course, ’tis not as refreshing as the River Earn, but it will have to do.” He glanced at his men. “Put her in it.”
The men tied a rope around Violet’s waist and lowered her into the deep tubular hole. On the way down, she tried to climb back up hand over hand, but they dropped her suddenly, making her free fall the last few feet. One of the men warned her that if she didn’t untie the rope and send it back up, they would pull her back up and make her wish that she had.
The leader smiled at Robert. “Oh, but we didn’t give you a chance to bid your lady farewell.”
Robert lunged at the priest, but two men held him back. All he could do was glare.
“Let him see her down there all alone—but unharmed—in the dark, lonely pit.” The scar-faced priest gave him a crooked smile. “Now, I believe our business is complete.” As he turned away and started to walk toward the village, he said, “Throw him over the edge.”
Robert fought them, fueled not only by the drive to survive but for Violet, whose life depended solely upon his survival. They held no weapons, for they needed none. They struck with precision, almost too fast to be seen, let alone anticipated. Unlike any fighting he had seen, they used their hands as if they were spears or knives, then they jabbed with their elbows and knees. Robert had only his strength to oppose their uncanny speed and deft maneuvers, but he fought well. With his right fist, he landed a solid blow that sent one man staggering back. He followed with his left, while the others looked on as though entertained.
When he turned to them, one of them turned sideways and kicked while the other flipped him over to land on his back with a grunt. Tasting defeat, not to mention the dirt, he imagined Violet languishing in that oubliette until she died a slow, painful death, and a rage roiled within him that brought him renewed strength. He looked up to determine where each man was, then he sized up their strengths and chose the one he had the best chance of defeating. With a bellowing cry, he lunged for him.
But the others pulled him off their companion and used the momentum to back Robert to the edge of the stone wall that overlooked the ravine. He was bent backward over the ledge, his shoulders pressed hard by one priest while another grabbed his feet and upended him. By sheer force of will, Robert hung on and took the one holding him over the edge with him. The two fell, still struggling as they brushed past branches and twigs on their way down.
NOT FORGOTTEN
The priest landed with his back wedged where the base of a branch met the thick trunk of a tree. With his fall partly broken by his now-dead attacker, Robert fell back from the branch as leaves rustled and twigs snapped. He randomly grasped for anything that might stop his descent until a branch caught his doublet and held him suspended. He struggled to breathe before the branch snapped, and he fell to a nearby branch below, where he held on. Secure for the time being, he thought of Violet and steeled himself for the climb down from the tree. Sharp pain shot through his chest to his side, but he forced himself to keep inching his way down the tree. From branch to branch, he proceeded with battered hands and unbearable pain in his ribs. A wrong move could send him to his death and Violet to hers, so by sheer force of will, he kept on, despite the blinding pain. He arrived at the last branch, which was ten feet from the ground. On another day, dropping to the ground would have been nothing, but he had not yet fully recovered from having been poisoned, and now he was sure he had cracked at least one rib. The drop to the ground would be his undoing. But he had to get Violet. So he fixed his mind on what had to be done, and he let himself fall.
He awoke, having passed out from the pain. How long he had been lying on the ground, he couldn’t tell. Slowly, he rose and climbed up to the castle. He took a long way around to avoid the steep slope to the top. He was forced to stop to catch his breath, but breathing hurt more, so he trudged on. It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the bridge to the castle.
He staggered to the opening of the oubliette. “Violet! Are you all right?”
A soft sob rose, followed by a long silence.
“Answer me, lass. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m just glad to hear your voice!”
Robert looked about for the rope the others had used earlier. It lay cast aside by the crumbling castle wall. Robert bent to pick it up and cursed, holding his side. Not trusting himself to support her in his injured condition, he looked about for something to which he could secure the end of the rope. There was nothing near enough, so he looped the rope about his hips, well below his injured ribs, and dropped the other end down to her.
She tied it about her waist and called up, “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Lass, can you climb at all?”
“A little. I climbed a rock-climbing wall on a cruise ship.”
He puzzled over what that might mean but gave up. “Good. You climb, and I’ll pull you up with the rope.”
“Okay.”
Robert leaned back, doing his best to use his weight to keep the rope taut. He had enough space behind him to keep backing up, rather than use his upper body to pull, which he could not have done. The mere act of breathing was painful enough. He would never have managed to pull her up on his own. From the length of the rope, she was nearly halfway to the top when the rope slipped and pulled against his cracked ribs. He would have cried out had he been able to take in enough air to do so. With his heels dug into the ground, he pulled back against the agonizing pressure. Unable to speak to even inquire about Violet, he focused on holding his ground.
Violet called, “Sorry! I slipped. I’m okay.”
Robert was glad to hear that she was all right, even though he was not. Still, he kept pulling back until Violet’s hand appeared over the top. Pulling on the rope hand over hand, he drew closer to her. All the while, he hoped neither of them would slip, for he didn’t know whether he had the strength to keep her from falling. The top was flush with the ground, giving her nothing to grasp hold of, but Violet clutched at the edge while Robert dug in his heels and pushed back until she cleared the top. When he was sure she was safe, he lay back while pain coursed through his body.
Violet collapsed beside him and grasped his hand. “I thought I’d lost you.”
He laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a comforting squeeze while he winced. Breathing caused enough pain. He felt no need to talk.
Violet turned her head sideways. “You’re hurt!”
“Aye.”
Violet hovered over him. “Where? What can I do?”
He put his hand on her arm. “Calm yourself. I’ll be fine.”
“But you’re not fine now.”
His speech was labored. “’Tis my ribs. I may have broken one or two.”
Violet smoothed back his hair from his forehead. “What can I do?”
Robert lifted his eyes to meet hers, and her gentle look moved him. Had he not been injured, he would have been tempted to pull her down and kiss her. But she had made it clear that she didn’t want that from him, so his present state worked in her favor. Even so, he felt no compulsion to avert his gaze from the aquamarine eyes that searched his.
Her lips parted, and he thought she might kiss him after all. But instead—and to his disappointment—she spoke. “We should leave here. They could return
.”
Robert nodded but made no effort to move.
“How can I help you? Should I pull your wrists, or would it be better to push you up from your shoulders? Can you walk?”
Robert ignored her and pulled himself to a sitting position, where he stayed until the worst of the pain had subsided.
“We should bandage your ribs.”
Without waiting for a reply, Violet tore her underskirt into wide strips and wrapped them around his chest. When she was finished, she helped pull him up to his feet, where he had no choice but to drape his arm over her shoulders and use her as a crutch. Well, at least there was one positive aspect.
She looked at him. “How did you ever manage to climb back up to the castle?”
He stared into her eyes without guile. “I had to. For you.”
* * *
THE MAY SUN LINGERED into the evening, lighting their way as they set out for Perth. With their horse gone, no doubt taken by their Jesuit attackers, they walked over gently rolling hills, which were not so gentle when one was on foot and in pain. While she knew she fared better than he, she wasn’t strong enough for the constant weight she was supporting. When they had been walking for an hour, she insisted that they stop to rest.
Robert was reluctant to speak, and Violet presumed that was because he was in pain. When they were far enough from the road to feel safe, she eased him down to sit against the trunk of an old gnarled oak, then she sat beside him, using the same trunk to support her. With a quiet moan, she rubbed her back, which had carried more than her share of the burden while walking.
“I’m sorry.”
Too weary to lift her head from its resting place against the tree trunk, Violet said, “Sorry for what?”
“I should have listened to you and taken you to the cave when you wanted to go. You’d have been safe at home now.”
With a shrug, she said, “Maybe.”
Robert leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
A breeze troubled the leaves and stirred up scents of sweet vernal grass mixed with bluebells. Violet breathed in and smiled as she turned toward him. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to know what a hero you are.”
With a smirk, Robert said, “Hero. There is no such thing.”
“But there is—and you’ve been knighted. That proves it.”
Robert narrowed his eyes. “Aye. And do you ken what that means?”
“You distinguished yourself in battle.”
“Oh, aye. The lucky ones they call hero; they call all the other ones dead.”
Violet could have said something encouraging, but he wouldn’t have accepted it. She saw the dark mood on his face and knew there was nothing to say. The question was: how did she know that? She had known him for mere days, but in those few days, she had seen him—at his best and worst—and although she wouldn’t tell him, she loved him. She wanted to believe that she loved who he was with no hope or expectation. That way it wouldn’t hurt so much when they parted, which they would. Until then, they were friends—platonic ones. Plato would have been proud—if she hadn’t been deluding herself.
He turned toward her, and her heart swelled. Sorry, Plato.
“I’ve let you down, Violet.”
“That’s crazy talk.”
He shook his head. “And I’ve failed in the one task my parents left for me. I’ve lost the scroll.”
Violet put her hand on his, but he snatched his away and turned from her. “God’s blood, will you stop being so kind?”
She was taken aback. For a long while she stared at him, thinking he would turn and apologize. When he did not, she looked the opposite away. She made an abrupt move to stand, and he flinched.
Violet suppressed the small measure of satisfaction she took in his pain. “Yes, I will.” When he gave her a questioning look, she added, “I’ll stop being kind.” She extended her hand. “Now get up.”
He looked at her, confused.
“You heard me.”
“Aye, you’re right. We should be on our way.”
When he was standing before her, she looked him straight in the eyes—or as straight as she could, considering the fact that he had a good half dozen inches of height on her. “Get this straight: I went with you because it was my best option at the time. You’re not responsible for me, so let go of that. And the scroll, well, I’m sorry, but it was a piece of linen. As much as your parents may have valued it, I’m sure that they valued you more. So stop beating yourself up now, and walk me to Perth.”
Whatever emotions Robert was feeling, he kept to himself, except for the dark look in his eyes. Violet wished for words to ease Robert’s self-loathing, but she knew of none. She knew only how deeply his feelings affected her. For that, there was a word, but she wouldn’t voice it.
As they continued walking toward Perth, approaching hoof-beats sent them off the road and into the woods that lined this section of road. They had tried to avoid the road, but Robert was in so much pain that walking rough terrain was out of the question. So they walked the worn path, veering off when they heard others approaching. They waited for the rider to pass, but there no rider. The horse left the road and came straight to them. Robert started to laugh but was stopped by the pain. It was the horse they had ridden since Perth.
“There’s a good lass!” Robert extended his palm and stroked its neck. Turning to Violet, he said, “Madam, your ride awaits you.”
With that, they were on their way, bound for Perth. As they rode, Robert began to talk again, raising Violet’s hope that his spirits were lifting, if only a little. When they were well away from Rosslyn Castle, they rode into a thickly wooded area and found a place Robert deemed safe for the night. In the last hours of light, he went looking for supper and returned with a wild hare.
When they had finished eating, Violet asked, “What will you do now?”
“What will I do?” He said it as if he were asking himself. “I’ll take you home.”
“And after that?”
He glanced at her then fixed his eyes on the embers left from the fire. “Since I can remember, I’ve had somewhere to live, an order to my days, and a future as a monk like the others around me. But I never really belonged. The scroll was a legacy from my parents. My father died for it. And now it’s gone. What will I do now? I dinnae ken.” Still in pain from his injuries, Robert struggled to stand. Violet rushed to his aid, but he grasped her wrist and held her at bay. “I can manage alone.”
And he did. He managed alone for the rest of the night, but Violet did not. Late that night, she lay awake thinking of Robert, the man who had overcome overwhelmingly painful injuries to climb back up to the castle and save her from certain death. He had done that for her, but he wouldn’t accept thanks. He would rather loathe himself for putting her in such a vulnerable position. But Violet didn’t blame him. All she could think of was the sheer force of will that must have brought him back to save her. She could no longer deny that she was moved by his deep sense of devotion to whatever cause lay before him. But that was the problem. He had rescued her because it was the right thing to do, and in his absolute resolve to do the right thing, she’d caught a glimpse of his emotional strength, and her heart responded to it. Moreover, it made her wonder what sort of devotion he might show to someone he loved, and she longed to find out.
THE RETURN TO PERTH
They arrived in Perth late the next evening, bypassing Edinburgh and, they hoped, their pursuers. Brother Thomas greeted them with warmth, which he extended to Violet as though the monastery were her home as well.
Seeing their reaction to the damage, Brother Thomas said, “The looters took everything they could find that had value and destroyed much that did not. But we’re getting things back in order. Come, you must be hungry.”
After they supped, Robert told Brother Thomas, “The scroll is gone.”
Robert spoke simply, but Violet saw the dark look in his eyes. Brother Thomas listened while Robert explained, and Violet was struck by t
he quiet manner in which Thomas received news that must have been deeply upsetting.
Robert ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair with a deep, weary sigh that drew a wince that was not lost on Brother Thomas.
“What ails you, lad?”
“Och, ‘tis only a bruise.”
Violet flashed Robert a look then turned to Brother Thomas. “Or a break.”
“Och.” With barely a glance he dismissed her remark. “I still dinnae ken who they were, other than how they were dressed—in the cassocks of Jesuit priests.”
Brother Thomas’s brow creased.
“I’ve fought in battle and been knighted for my skill, but these men fought differently from any manner I’ve ever known. Not only were they fast, but they seemed to ken my next move, and they’d thwart it. I dinnae ken how I survived.”
Brother Thomas nodded. “I think I ken who they could be. A small sect of Jesuits came back from Japan. They were missionaries there, and they learned a way of fighting that sounds like what you’ve described. I’ve no doubt they’re after the Templars’ secret knowledge.”
Robert narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Brother Thomas answered Robert’s unspoken question, looking between him and Violet. “You know it already.”
“Time travel?” Violet said it more to herself than to them.
Robert leaned closer. “And the scroll holds that secret?”
“I don’t know. I was once told that it did, but I can’t decipher the markings, except to guess that it might be some sort of map.”
Violet asked, “Where would they take it?”
Brother Thomas met her question with a nod. “Where, indeed?”
“They may have already taken it to another time. If that’s so, it will be nearly impossible to find now,” Robert said with a frustrated frown.
Brother Thomas spoke in soft, even tones. “If they truly discover the secrets of time travel using the scroll as a guide, they could wreak havoc not only on our world but upon countless places and eras.”
Robert leaned back and folded his arms over his chest then winced from the pressure against his ribs.
