The Devil's Path (An Alexander Scott Novel Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  With a chuckle, Scott sat back in his chair and made a mental note to never play poker with her…he would surely lose.

  Chapter 8

  Llangollen, Wales

  Looking out the window of their carriage as it came to a halt Scott saw that the town of Llangollen was a tiny farming community nestled between several fir-covered hills that lead to the nearby Berwyn Mountains. Towering in the distance, perched high atop a hill overlooking the green countryside, was the ruins of the Castle Dinas Bran.

  Scott opened the carriage door and went to step out, only to stop in mid-stride to adjust his footing. All along the town’s hard-packed dirt main road were little presents left by a herd of sheep that had just been guided through the town into a nearby pasture by a young boy. Treading lightly, Scott turned about and offered his hand to Kate, who cringed as she gingerly stepped down from the carriage. Their driver had stopped outside of the Ponsonby Arms, a quaint local two-story tavern located in the heart of Llangollen. After having their luggage taken inside, Scott handsomely paid their driver, who with a tip of his cap left with a pocket full of coins, contently whistling to himself.

  A large bald-headed man with a huge stomach wearing a dirty apron came out from behind the bar. His head was as smooth as a cue ball. He had thick mutton chop sideburns and a droopy moustache that had bits of food from his last meal still hanging in it. With a cheerful smile, then in the local Welsh dialect, he warmly welcomed Scott and Kate to his establishment. Both stood there looking at the man, neither knowing what he had just said.

  Seeing the look on their faces the man smiled and said in English, “I said top of the day to you fine folks in Welsh, I did.”

  “Oh sorry,” said Scott, sticking out his hand. “It’s just that I have never heard Welsh before today.”

  “By that accent I would guess you’re American,” said the man jovially. “We don’t get too many visitors from your parts around here. And with that war going on over there, I doubt we will see many more for a while either.”

  “Well, that would be a shame as your lovely little town is hidden away in one of the most-picturesque places that I have ever seen,” said Kate with a gleaming smile.

  “Don’t right know about that,” said the man scratching his large, round belly. “Well, I see you have some luggage with you. Will you be spending the night then?”

  “Yes, if you have two rooms side by side for my cousin and I, that would be greatly appreciated,” said Scott, digging out a couple gold sovereign.

  The man’s eyes lit up like a beacon in the dark the instant he saw the gold in Scott’s hand. “You’re in luck, you are, sir, we have two rooms upstairs….very clean, I might add, they will no doubt meet your needs.”

  “Very good,” said Scott. “If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll take our luggage up, and then I don’t know about my cousin,” Scott said looking over at Kate, “but I’m starved and would like a bite to eat.”

  Kate felt her stomach rumble at the thought of food. “Sounds like a good idea. What do you have fresh today?”

  “Today we have lamb or freshly caught salmon,” said the man enthusiastically rubbing his hands together, looking like he might help himself to another meal as well.

  Both Scott and Kate simultaneously said, “Salmon, please.”

  “I can get me boy to take your luggage, sir,” said the man.

  “It’s all right,” replied Scott. “I need to grab a few things from my suitcase anyway.” Although he had no reason to distrust the Inn Keeper, Scott did not want anyone to touch their luggage.

  After placing their luggage in their rooms, Scott joined Kate at a heavy wooden table in the corner of the tavern. Two pints of ale were already waiting on the table.

  Scott looked at the drinks and then gave Kate an odd look. “Did you order these?”

  “No, they are compliments of the owner of this establishment. Mister Talfryn Owen,” said Kate, making sure she did not butcher the man’s first name.

  Scott picked up the closest pewter tankard and took a sip. “Not bad,” said Scott tasting the warm beer. Taking a seat across from Kate, Scott took out his pocket watch and saw that it was already getting late in the afternoon.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Alex,” said Kate, “but I would still like to take a look around the ruins before night falls.”

  “What ruins would that be?” asked the tavern owner, Owen, as he placed down a couple of plates piled high with food on their table.

  “I would love to take a walk around Dinas Bran. I just love castles,” said Kate passionately.

  “Aye, so did that other American fellow,” said Owen. “He stayed here a couple of months back. Odd sort if you ask me. He was an older gent with a big bushy beard; always mumbling to himself and writing things down in a little book he seemed to have him wherever he went.”

  Scott and Kate’s eyes instantly lit up.

  “Would you happen to recall his name?” asked Scott, trying hard not to sound too enthusiastic.

  Owen turned his head, scrunched his face, pondered for a moment, and then said, “Sorry, can’t say I rightly do.”

  “Was it Irish sounding?” asked Kate, also trying to contain herself.

  With a snap of his fingers, Owen said, “Aye that it was.”

  “O’Sullivan perhaps?” asked Kate.

  “I dunno, sounds about right though,” said Owen, absentmindedly twirling the ends of his walrus moustache. “I’ll have to ask my wife Irene, she’s better than I am at remembering things like people’s names.”

  “Is she in?” asked Scott, looking around for the man’s wife.

  “Sorry, no, she’s at her mother’s right now,” replied Owen. “But she’ll be back later today.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Kate.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, do you folks know the gentlemen?”

  “Yes, I believe we do. I’m his—”

  “Niece,” said Scott, cutting Kate off. “Miss Kate O’Reilly is Professor O’Sullivan’s niece.”

  “Well, it is a small world isn’t it these days,” Owen said.

  “Has anyone else been around asking about the professor?” asked Scott.

  Owen ran a hand over his stubbly chin and then said. “No, I don’t remember anyone before you folks today asking about the gentleman.”

  “Thanks,” said Scott with a smile.

  Owen nodded his head, smiled, and then headed back to the kitchen to eat a plate he had made for himself.

  Kate looked over and saw the unimpressed expression on Scott’s face. “Alex, before you say anything, I’m sorry I just got too excited knowing that father had been here.”

  Alex took a deep breath. “It’s ok, I was also getting swept up in the moment myself,” said Scott. “But for now, it’s best if we don’t let on who you really are.”

  Kate nodded and then looked down at her heaping plate of food. There was enough food to feed a family. A large filet of salmon lay on top of a generous helping of boiled potatoes and cabbage. “Well, we won’t starve if we stay here,” said Kate as she picked up her fork and dug into her meal.

  Half an hour later, their stomachs filled, Scott got up, walked to the bar, and rang a little brass bell that hung above the serving counter. Owen came strolling out from the kitchen, wiping his greasy face with a dirt-encrusted apron.

  “How was the meal?” asked Owen.

  “Delicious,” said Kate as she stood up and joined Scott.

  “That’s good to hear. Is there anything else I can do for you fine folks?”

  “I was wondering if we could hire a carriage to take us up to the ruins before dark,” said Scott.

  Owen stood there for a moment as if lost in thought, then walked past Kate and Scott straight out onto the street. Scott and Kate could hear him calling to someone in Welsh. He came back with a grin on his wide face and said, “My brother’s boy Bryn is getting a carriage ready for you. It should be out front in a couple of minutes.”

&
nbsp; “Thanks,” said Scott.

  “Mind you don’t tip him too much,” said Owen. “He’s a bit foolish with his money. He’ll just drink it away if you give him too much. Not that I mind that in my establishment, but the boy needs to learn the value of a penny earned.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” said Scott as he escorted Kate to the entrance of the tavern.

  True to his word, a few minutes later a small open one-horse carriage pulled up. The driver was a skinny youth who looked to be no more than sixteen to Scott. He smiled and tipped his cap in greeting. Scott saw that he wore loose-fitting simple farmer’s clothes caked in mud and filth. He wondered how often the boy changed his clothes. Helping Kate into the carriage, Scott got in and then told the boy to take them to the castle. With a sharp whistle and light tap of the reins, the horse started to plod away down a narrow dirt path meandering off towards the Castle Dinas Bran ruins.

  In the tavern, Talfryn Owen was busy chatting with a couple local farmers over a pint when three men he had never seen before entered the establishment. Warily they looked around and then walked over to the bar. Owen stopped what he was doing and with a hearty hello in Welsh, he ambled over to offer them a drink. They were all well dressed in cleanly pressed woolen suits that looked very much out of place with the relaxed rural atmosphere of the tiny village. Having run the tavern for going on twenty years, Owen had become quite adept at spotting trouble before it ever had a chance to break out. The demeanor of the three men instantly made him suspicious and alert.

  “How can I help you fine gentlemen?” asked Owen, switching into English.

  The closest man, dressed in a dark-brown suit with a fashionable long coat overtop dug into a pocket, pulled out a telegram and read it over before looking up at Owen. “I am looking for either a Colonel Scott or a Miss O’Sullivan. You would know them if you met them, they are Americans. Are they here?” bluntly asked the man.

  Owen thought about it for a moment and then with a smile said, “Sorry, never heard of either of them. But seeing as you’re here would you or your friends like a nice pint of ale?”

  The man turned about, followed closely by his two compatriots, and without saying another word, walked straight out of the tavern.

  An old white-haired farmer in dirt-covered pants looked over at Owen and said, “Why did you tell them strangers that, Owen? Them folks, the ones they’re looking for, they’re your guests.”

  Owen said nothing. He stood there watching as the men crossed the street, stopped a local farmer, and started to question him. A feeling of unease filled Owen as the farmer pointed up towards the hill. A second later, the men took off and started to walk quickly towards the castle.

  Owen stepped back inside his tavern. “Darragh, be a good lad and fetch my brother from down the street. Quickly now,” said Owen to a thin, lanky youth sitting at the bar.

  The boy nodded his head, and with his cap in his hand, he took off running to find Owen’s brother.

  Stepping behind the bar, Owen bent down and grasped a sawn-off double-barreled shotgun. Popping it open, Owen checked that it was loaded, before with a flick of his wrist, he snapped it closed. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but his instincts, honed in India as a young soldier, told him otherwise.

  “Expecting trouble are you, Owen?” asked the white-haired farmer.

  “I don’t know, Craig…I just don’t know,” replied Owen looking up at the castle, his eyes trying to see if his brother’s son was safe.

  Kate sat in the carriage with her father’s book open in her lap. She was busy studying a hand drawn map of the ruined castle. Looking up at the top of the hill, she pointed to a thick brick wall standing alone. “That is where the great hall would have been in medieval times,” enthusiastically explained Kate.

  Scott looked up. He tried to imagine a hall standing there, but all he saw was a tall row of bricks and nothing else. The castle was in disrepair. He had seen plenty of castles during his trips to England and France when he was a boy with his mother. This structure looked to him to be more like the bones of some long-dead beast sticking out of the ground.

  “Kate, did you say these were medieval ruins?” asked Scott.

  “Yes, this castle was built in the early 1200s on top of an old Iron Age Fort. My father believes that this is where the Grail was hidden until it was moved in the mid-600s.”

  “Sorry, not meaning to eavesdrop,” said the boy over his shoulder. “But do you folks know what the castle’s name means in English?”

  “No, we don’t,” replied Kate.

  “It means either Crow Castle or Hill of the Crow, depending on whose Welsh you use,” said the boy proudly. “I wasn’t trying to be rude when I butted in, but I heard you say that the castle was built in the 1200s. Actually, it was built in the 1100s ma’am,” said the boy.

  Scott and Kate exchanged looks.

  Leaning forward, Scott said, “Well, young man, you seem quite knowledgeable on these parts. I’m sorry, but we never got your name before leaving the tavern?”

  “Oh, begging your pardon, sir, my name is Gareth, like me father and his father before him,” proudly proclaimed the boy.

  “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Gareth,” said Scott. “My name is Alexander, and my cousin’s name is Kate.”

  Gareth tipped his hat and smiled at Kate.

  “You folks are Americans aren’t you? I can tell by your voices. No one around here talks like you two do. You wouldn’t happen to be related to that fine man Professor O’Sullivan would you?”

  “Yes, I am his niece,” fibbed Kate with a bright smile at Gareth.

  “Proper gentleman he was,” said Gareth. “He treated me plenty fine, not like some of the people back home.”

  Scott smiled and sat back. He could see that Kate had the boy’s undivided attention. Looking over at her emerald-green eyes and warm lips, Scott thought back to the first time he laid eyes upon her on the boat and realized that she was one of the most strikingly beautiful women he had ever met in his life.

  Behind them, the three men cut across country and began to climb the hill leading to the castle.

  “Did you talk very much to Professor O’Sullivan?” enquired Kate.

  “Oh yes, ma’am. We talked every day. For you see I was his assistant,” proudly proclaimed Gareth. “He paid me…paid me well. Each day we would meet at my uncle’s tavern, and then we would come up here and spend the whole day walking about. The Professor would write and write and write in his little books all the while he spoke to me like I was one of his students. I didn’t understand it all, but he was a nice man and took the time to explain things to me. People back home think me you know…a bit simple in the head, but I remember things. I remember things well…like the date of the castle being in the 1100s, not like you said…begging your pardon, ma’am,” Gareth said tipping his hat at Kate.

  “It’s ok Gareth, I’m glad you know these things said Kate. “And please stop with all this ma’am nonsense and please call me Kate.”

  “Oh, of course, Kate,” said Gareth blushing.

  “How much longer until we reach the top?” asked Scott.

  Gareth turned his head, looked up at the path winding around the hill, and then said, “Maybe another couple more minutes.”

  “That’s great. I can’t wait to take a look around,” Kate said, her eyes fixed on the ruins.

  “When you say it like that, you sound like the old professor…you do,” said Gareth.

  Kate smiled to herself and decided to take a chance to move things along. “Gareth, do you remember what you and the Professor talked about while you

  were up here poking among the ruins?” asked Kate.

  “Oh, the Professor, he knew the Bible inside and out. He was a true god-fearing gentleman he was,” said Gareth. “We would talk about the Bible for hours and hours. I learned more from him about the Almighty than I ever did from our local Vicar, I did.”

  Kate edged forward on the carriage bench an
d looked up at Gareth. “Aside from talking about God did you talk about why he was here at the castle? Do you recall if he was he looking for anything special?”

  Gareth let out a little chuckle and then said, “You want to know about the Holy Grail, don’t you?”

  Scott sat straight forward as if he had been hit by a bolt of lightning. “Gareth, my cousin Kate, she knows all about the Grail, but I don’t. Could you tell me what you know about the Grail…what the Professor told you?”

  “I can, but then you have to swear to keep it a secret and tell no one,” said Gareth, his voice suddenly serious. “The Professor made me swear an oath to say nothing, but since your family, I don’t see no harm in telling you.”

  “I promise…we promise to keep your secret,” said Scott looking over at Kate.

  “Well, sir, we spent the better part of a week up here walking about and digging through the castle looking for things…things that he thought would tell him about the Holy Grail. He called it man’s last chance for salvation he did, he called it that all the time. Not sure what he meant by that, but it sounded important, so I aimed to help as best I could,” explained Gareth.

  Kate almost squirming out of the carriage bench said, “Did he find what he was looking for?”

  Gareth’s eyes lit up. “Give me a minute and I’ll show you good folks exactly what he found.”

  Kate bit her lip. She could not believe her luck. She prayed that she was going to find out something tangible that would tell her where her father had gone.

  Scott could sense the excitement and tension building in Kate. Reaching over, he patted Kate’s hand and smiled at her.

  Perhaps the trail wasn’t cold anymore.

  A minute later, Gareth brought the carriage to a halt, applied the brake, and then jumped down. With a dramatic bow and tip of his soft woolen hat, he opened the door for Kate. Offering his hand, he helped Kate down from the carriage.

  Looking around, Kate was amazed to see that she could see for miles in any direction. A lush green valley spread out below them. She felt as if she was a hawk flying high above the countryside the sight was overwhelming.