"What are you doing here?" she hissed as soon as they were alone.
"Hadran sent me to follow the Scot and see if he allies with the other clans."
"And they caught you?"
"That wasn’t my fault! The big one, Fergus, has eyes in the back of his head. I can’t scratch without him coming after me. But I showed him!"
"I saw that," she said, affectionately ruffling the boy’s shaggy hair. "But now you are trapped here with me and Gundy won’t get your report."
Jon visibly paled, imagining Gundy’s displeasure. As the architects of his ambitions, the spies knew what happened to those poor souls that displeased their lord. That was why each of them had made a vow to be loyal to each other first. Gundy’s agents never failed because they worked hard to ensure their mutual success. No matter what, she would protect Jon.
"Be at ease," she continued thoughtfully. "Owen is nearby and can deliver your report. Today lord Cairn bemoaned the lack of a squire. Perhaps you should develop an interest in armor?"
"I can do that!" replied Jon with a grin. Like Verena, he had a knack for insinuating himself into any situation. Within a week, Jon would probably become the best squire Cairn ever had.
"I could also use your help searching for the treasure. Someone knows where it is hidden and I have identified a few likely suspects. I need you to befriend the clan children and see what they can tell you. Try to have them followed if you can do it without raising suspicion."
"Easy."
Briefly, she described Lady Ivone, old Thomas and Father Simon. She was sure at least one of them knew something about the treasure. In the meantime, she memorized Jon’s report to deliver to Owen. Hadran would want to know as soon as possible about this change of plans and she needed Owen to locate some excavation tools so that she may begin clearing the tunnel. There was a lot of work to be done.
Chapter 31
A meeting was taking place in the great Langthorne hall. Five of the most influential North English lords had gathered to discuss what they termed their "Scottish dilemma." They knew all too well the Scots were a testy bunch and wouldn’t remain weakened for long.
Above them presided Lord Gundy. As landlord of the main road into the Eastern part of Scotland, he was the self-proclaimed leader of the group.
"Couldn’t this wait until spring?" complained Sir Reginald, one of the lesser lords in the assembly. He huddled in front of the fire, still wearing his traveling cloak. If the summons had come from anyone else, with the exception of the king, the nobles might have ignored it and stayed safe and warm at home.
"We cannot let the enemy rest for a moment," insisted Gundy "Or they will rise again."
Some of the nobles visibly flinched at those words. As border lords, they bore most of the damage from the raiding and border wars.
"The Scots are not defeated, merely stunned. We must strike now before they have a chance to recover."
"How do we know the Scots are plotting against us?" asked Lord Oswald. "From what I’ve heard, the place is a mess with the crop failure and recent plague."
Gundy looked at the assembled lords with pity, not believing their naivete. He had always despised the sniveling Oswald, with his bulbous nose and high, whining voice. His skeletal shape reminded Gundy uncomfortably of the grim reaper.
"I know the Scots are plotting against us. That is why we must act."
"He is right," spoke up Lord Dewey. His lands bordered Langthorne to the southwest, so he was anxious to form an alliance with the venerable Gundy. "I have heard rumors of an unusually large portion of forest being cleared by the MacFie clan."
Reginald snorted as he turned his back to the fire to warm his rear. "No doubt firewood for this blasted winter," he muttered.
"Siege engines," insisted Dewey. "We have all heard of the McPherson activities. They are openly preparing for war! I am with Gundy. Those Scots are plotting against us."
"What exactly would you have us do?" asked the fifth member of their group. All eyes turned to Lord Percy who had nearly been forgotten in his silence. The old man had lost all four of his sons in the recent conflict with Scotland and had no one left to inherit after he died. If anyone had the right to hunger for revenge, it was he.
Gundy rose from his throne-like chair and crossed the room. Gently he took the old man’s gnarled hands and pressed them, as if in reverence to a martyr.
"We have all lost so much. We have seen so much suffering. That is why we must ensure it never happens again. We will strike the McPhersons first and once they have fallen, the rest of the lowlands will crumble. That is the only way to keep England safe from those barbarians."
At least that was the rhetoric that would gain Lord Percy’s support. Scotland was in disarray with the inept leadership of their king. There were few leaders capable of steering the country through this difficult time. Gundy saw this as the perfect opportunity to carve out a large chunk of the fertile lowlands for himself, but he couldn’t do it alone.
"What of the young lord, Cairn McPherson?" asked Sir Reginald with his backside still close to the fire. "He is strong and brave and has gained quite a reputation on the battlefield. Why start with him?"
"My dear lords," Gundy explained. "Cairn McPherson is the Achilles heel that will bring all of Scotland to its knees. We must defeat him first. Do not forget Cairn possesses a brother, the powerful Lord Andreu. If they join forces, we don’t have a chance of defeating the lowlands."
"How do you expect to overpower them?" asked Oswald. "The McPherson castle is too defensible for a siege and the French forces are too numerable to defeat in battle. It’s not like they will politely line up for you at the executioner’s block."
Some of the lords snickered at Oswald’s wit and Gundy forced a sickly smile. "They will do just that. Cairn is strong, but he is also young, angry and inexperienced. All he needs is a gentle nudge to place him right where I … we want him."
Gundy called for more wine to allow his words to sink in. They naturally wanted to hear the details of the plan, realizing Gundy had invested far more in this endeavor than he had shared with his neighbors, but he would say no more. The less they knew the better. He wouldn’t risk them meddling too soon in his affairs.
Every time he called the lords Gundy heard more objections and complaints. He wished he could rely solely on Hadran and his team of spies. They had never failed him and never complained about an assignment. Lords were a capricious bunch.
Gundy caught Oswald’s shrewd eye and gave an ingratiating smile. That one was too cautious and wouldn’t blindly follow Gundy’s command. It had taken weeks to convince his neighbor of the necessity of this attack. Thankfully the cunning lord wouldn’t bother Gundy for long. In the blaze of war many arrows were known to go astray. One of Hadran’s operatives would see to that.
Chapter 32
It was early morning before Verena could sneak away from Cairn’s bedchamber. He had been insatiable in his lovemaking, eager to make up for the days they were apart. He had not stopped until he probed each crevice of her body, making her scream as wave after wave of passion rolled over her. She felt limp and pleasantly sore, but she forced her limbs to move. She had work to do.
Leaving Cairn had been much harder than she expected. She was surprised by her desire to linger in his arms and wasn’t able to pull herself away until nearly dawn. Jon was curled up in front of the great hall’s dying fire with the castle hunting dogs. At first he appeared to be sleeping, but when she gently tapped him, he nearly took her hand off with a swipe of his knife.
"Jesu!" she whispered, jumping away. "Tis I, Verena!"
"I’m sorry, V. That is the second time I attacked you. You must be getting soft."
Before he could blink, she pulled out her own knife and held it to his throat, knocking Jon’s small blade away. If he took more than a shallow breath, the sharp metal would pierce his throat, but instead of fear, Jon’s eyes danced with excitement. She saw his fingers twitch as he thought of a counteratt
ack.
They often played this game under Hadran’s watchful eye. Ambushing each other kept their senses alert and the play gave a welcome release of tension. The competition took the edge off their constant training.
"Still think I am soft? I need your help. Come quickly."
A few minutes later, she pressed the stone in the Old Lord’s bedchamber, activating the secret passage. Jon swore in surprise as the door swung open.
"Lord! How did you find that?" he asked, taking the supplies she had collected earlier from Owen. Jon’s greedy little eyes scanned the room, searching for valuables to steal.
"It took an obscenely long time. Don’t touch anything. Cairn was recently searching for the treasure and would know if something was missing."
"Just my luck!"
Verena lit one of her expensive tapers. She definitely didn’t want to carry a smoky torch in this cramped space. She tucked her skirts into her girdle to keep them from dragging on the dusty floor and led the way into the passage.
"Must we walk so slowly?" Jon asked. "If I’m not back soon the kitchen brats will eat all the food."
"’Tis only a little farther." She felt the path tilt upwards under her feet as they neared the end. She reached into her pack of supplies and handed him a chunk of bread and cheese. "Were you able to discover anything about Lady Ivone, Father Simon or Thomas?"
"Aye, a strange lot they are, to be sure! Father Simon is a dear. If you ask me, he couldn’t tell a lie to save his soul. He loves this clan and helped raise Cairn from a babe. If he knew about the treasure, he would have said something."
"As I thought. Still, his position gives him a fair amount of autonomy. It was best to be sure."
"Ivone is a terror. At first I thought she was as simple as they come, empty-headed like some other ladies I’ve seen—no offense. Then she caught me snooping around her bedchamber. I told her I was fetching her used linens, but the way she looked at me, it was as if she could see into my soul. She is cold-hearted and ambitious like Gundy. I don’t trust her."
"Did you discover anything?" She decided to ignore his remark about empty-headed ladies.
"Nay. The kitchen brats are afraid to go near her so I’ll have to watch Ivone myself."
"Be careful. Of all the McPhersons, she is the one to fear. She tries to appear less intelligent than she is, but I cannot fathom why."
"I know," replied Jon with a dramatic shiver. "That Thomas is definitely hiding something, too. I spent the afternoon chasing him through the forest."
"Did he see you?"
"Of course not! At first I thought he was walking suspiciously, as if he knew he might be followed. He kept changing directions. But then I figured as old as he is, he probably couldn’t remember the way. I felt sure he was leading me to the treasure, but instead he took me to a large mud hill."
"The Old Lord’s burial mound."
"So the brats told me. Thomas brought a shovel and replaced the dirt that had been washed away by the rains. Do you think the treasure is buried there?"
"It is certainly a possibility, though it seems too obvious. Surely someone would have excavated the Old Lord’s grave by now."
"Maybe they are too afraid of his ghost."
"Perhaps. Try to get some rest today. Tonight we’ll dig up the Old Lord’s grave."
"Have I told you how much I love this job?"
Verena laughed, glad to have Jon beside her. She often wondered how someone so young could handle the more gruesome parts of their assignments, but Jon approached each duty with courage and sarcastic wit. She didn’t know anything of his life before Hadran found him wandering the filthy London streets, but she was glad to have him in her group.
When she felt a twinge of guilt that he would never have a normal childhood, she reminded herself that her life had been no different. She didn’t know what ‘normal’ was, but the longer she stayed with the McPhersons, the more she was beginning to understand. Jon had already made himself the leader of the castle boys—much to Fergus’ chagrin. They would cheerfully devise ways of terrorizing the gruff soldier. When this was over she would try to find a place where he could forget about the pressures of duty and just enjoy being a child.
The large pile of stones suddenly came into view, blocking their way.
"I suppose this is what the shovels are for," said Jon, inspecting the obstruction. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep us from going any farther."
"I am sorry to disappoint them."
Verena grasped one small boulder and with a grunt, lifted it free of the pile. Working the rock free, she had to brace herself against the wall as she felt a wave of dizziness.
"Are you alright?"
"Just tired. There will be plenty of time to rest when this is over."
For someone that was rarely ill, she couldn’t understand her body’s lethargy. She had worked through the night on much more strenuous assignments and her injured shoulder was nearly healed. Perhaps it was Cairn’s lovemaking that was making her so fatigued. She had gotten little sleep since coming to Scotland, but staying away from him was unthinkable.
"I can see!" Jon exclaimed, sticking his head through the hole their excavation had revealed.
"What do you see?"
"Another long passage."
Swearing indelicately, she continued her efforts. Despite his small size, Jon was a strong lad and cleared more than his share of the rubble. They worked together with silent efficiency for what seemed like hours, calling a halt when they could both squeeze through with ease.
"Did you expect this to be easy?" Jon teased, glimpsing her foul mood. She was exhausted and more than willing to continue their search another day. Verena was growing annoyed with this never-ending quest.
"You forget I have been searching for this infernal treasure since I came to Scotland."
"We can’t give up now. This is too exciting."
Jon gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze and ushered her though the passageway. After another long walk, they came to a heavy, wooden door. Verena placed her hands on the rusted, iron handle and pulled, but nothing happened. Thinking the door stuck, she pulled again. Still nothing. Jon added his strength, swearing furiously as he did so, but it was no use. The stubborn door was locked.
"This will only take a moment," he said, kneeling before the lock. "Could you hold the light?"
Verena did so, watching as Jon laid his lock picking tools on the ground with the care of a surgeon. She craned her neck to watch him work, comparing his technique to her own. Jon was absorbed in his task, using his instruments like an extension of his fingers. He was familiar with this style of lock and knew exactly where the tumblers were, but they were large and heavy. Jon’s tools were mostly for smaller locks found on jewelry boxes and chests. He twisted firmly, but gently, praying his tools wouldn’t bend or snap in the large keyhole. Finally, Jon grinned in satisfaction when he heard the faint click of the lock spring open.
The door was thick and heavy, with hinges nearly rusted solid. Verena liberally doused them with oil. They pulled with all of their strength and the door gave way grudgingly, an inch at a time.
They found themselves in a small, nearly empty room. A door lay opposite, but it was what lay in front of them that held her attention. A stone sarcophagus stood before them, its lid carved with the effigy of a man she recognized immediately.
"This is the mound," she said in puzzlement. "We are in the Old Lord’s burial mound."
"That is impossible! Have we walked that far?"
It certainly felt like it. Verena’s entire body ached with the strain of moving rocks, the long walk, and hours of energetic lovemaking. She suspected the large hill hid more than a body, but she didn’t expect to find a room this size.
"I don’t understand. Where is the treasure? Why would someone go to so much trouble for a dead body?"
The room was completely bare except for the sarcophagus in the center. The floor was made of hard, packed dirt that looked like it ha
d been undisturbed for years.
"Perhaps it is beyond that door," Jon suggested.
This one was also locked and Jon knelt before it and went to work. When it finally opened yet another pile of stones lay in their path. Jon began to poke at them, but she pulled him away. It was the same pile of rocks Thomas had tried to conceal. He was not protecting the treasure; he was safeguarding the Old Lord’s body.
She turned to leave, grumpy at having so much of her day wasted on a fool’s errand, but something caught her attention. Kneeling beside the Old Lord’s stone coffin, she uncovered a small, shiny object glinting in the candlelight. She hooted in excitement as she recognized the tiny Roman coin.
"This wasn’t buried," she explained to Jon, who began digging the hard packed earth for treasure. "It was dropped. Someone moved the treasure and must have overlooked this coin."
"It was probably the same person that tried to barricade it," Jon surmised.
"We must discover who moved the treasure. Concentrate most of your efforts on Thomas, but do not overlook other likely suspects. We need to question all of the Old Lord’s surviving retainers to find out who may know something."
With the clan’s current difficulties, it was only a matter of time before someone searched the Old Lord’s grave. The treasure had to be moved to a safer location, but where? Verena had been inside Thomas’ tiny cottage and hadn’t noticed anything suspicious. Perhaps she needed to take a closer look.
Thomas should have come forward long ago if he knew about the treasure. The circumstances were certainly dire enough. Verena understood why he might have felt compelled to hide the silver from Ivone, but why continue to hide it from his lord?
•
"Where have you been?" Cairn demanded as she reentered the hall. She had washed off most of the filth from the Old Lord’s tunnel and hoped to rest before the midday meal. She was surprised to note that nearly half the day had been spent underground with Jon. "No one has seen you for hours."
Verena spun around, catching herself as another wave of dizziness made her head spin. Perhaps it had been too long since her last meal.
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