Guy sputtered a protest, but was silenced by a look from his master, who then turned to Emery. Although he said nothing, expectation brightened his dark eyes, and Emery felt a sudden giddiness. Had Gerard ever offered her such a dare? Emery couldn’t remember, but years of being stifled by duty and silence made her meet the unspoken challenge.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Lord de Burgh’s answering grin did something to her that Emery could not explain, but she told herself ’twas wiser to keep an eye on the man rather than not. However, Guy had other ideas.
‘My lord, you cannot think to take this—’ the squire began, gesturing towards Emery. But Lord de Burgh held up his hand to stop any argument, leaving Guy to shake his head as his master ducked into the hole. ‘Be careful, my lord,’ he warned.
There was nothing for Emery to do except follow Lord de Burgh. But when she stepped on to the stone stairs, she drew in a sharp breath at the sudden change in her surroundings. The familiar figure of Guy standing in the dim recesses of the church was replaced by a blackness so total that she blinked several times before she could see anything at all. Finally, she spied the faint flicker of the lantern, barely visible ahead.
Having no time to regret her hasty decision, Emery hurried forwards, lest the pale talisman disappear from view. But she had not counted upon the shape in front of her and stumbled into the tall form of Lord de Burgh.
‘Steady,’ he said, turning his head towards her. ‘Some people don’t do well in tight quarters, especially below ground. My brother Simon, for all his courage, is one, and there is no shame in it.’
Emery wasn’t about to argue, for she could not find her tongue. Lord de Burgh’s face was so close that she could see the thick, dusky lashes of his eyes. The lantern cast a glow upon his cheek, a beacon of warmth in the cool darkness. And when his gaze met hers, Emery’s heart began pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it.
Like an animal in the glare of a lamp, Emery was powerless to look away, her breath faltering, her pulse racing. Then something flared in his eyes, a question perhaps, but if so, it was one that Emery could not answer. Time stood still as their gazes held until, to her relief, he finally turned away.
Shuddering, Emery was glad of the shadows as she sought to control her clamouring senses. Thankfully, Lord de Burgh appeared little affected by what had seemed so momentous to her because he soon spoke over his shoulder.
‘Watch your feet,’ he said as he resumed walking. ‘The Templars might have laid traps for unwanted visitors.’
Traps? Emery felt as though she had already fallen into one, as she belatedly realised the intimacy of the situation. Neither a past spent with her father and brother, nor her recent isolation, had prepared her for the experience of being alone in the dark with a man, let alone a man like Lord de Burgh. Panic stirred, and it was not the fear of being unmasked, now a very real possibility, or even the dangers of the tunnel that chilled her.
Something had just passed between them, something so powerful that Emery hoped he would never look her way again. Not like that. And especially not here in the darkness.
Chapter Three
Nicholas did not care to dwell on what had just occurred, though he had the feeling he could unravel the puzzle of his odd reaction if he put his mind to it. But now was not the time. Travelling underground in unknown passages required all of his attention, lest he fall or lose his way. And he had not undertaken this exploration recklessly, no matter what Guy might think.
Pausing to inspect the ground at his feet, Nicholas noted that it sloped slightly. But why go deeper under the earth? Perhaps the Templars had taken advantage of some natural formations, using and extending what already existed to suit their needs.
Although that would mean less chance of the roof crashing down upon them, it posed other dangers. Having explored the caves near his brother Geoff’s property, Nicholas knew that a mis-step could lead to disaster, especially when they had no rope. One slip into a crevasse would mean no escape, and though recently he might have courted such risks, he had no intention of losing his life—or Emery’s.
The thought made him slant a glance behind him, just to make sure the boy was still following. The sight of the youth’s bent head was a strange comfort, making Nicholas suddenly aware of home and family. Perhaps that explained his odd reaction. With six older brothers, he’d never had the opportunity to pass on his experience and knowledge to a younger sibling. Now he wondered whether he should share his skills with someone who might make use of them—before it was too late. And Emery seemed a more likely candidate than Guy.
‘It doesn’t look as though anyone has passed this way in a long time,’ the youth whispered, as though confirming Nicholas’s thoughts.
‘Perhaps the way is blocked ahead, putting an end to its usage,’ Nicholas said.
‘Or maybe they no longer have need of a secret entrance to the church.’
‘Yet if they still monitor the tunnels, we should keep quiet. Some of these places can produce echoes or amplify sound to warn those ahead.’
Emery fell silent then, and Nicholas knew a sense of loss. There was something soothing about the boy’s speech, as though he were wise beyond his years. Or maybe Nicholas had just grown weary of his squire’s company. Guy’s constant fussing made him seem more like a nursery maid than a squire, and his harping to return home grew wearisome.
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.
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 sai
d. 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.
The Last de Burgh Page 4
