by Scott, B. J.
“What about the chalice?” Franc whispered.
Keeping his voice low, Lazarus replied, “We will eat and drink now, then wait for the brothers to go to bed. Once all is quiet, I will take you below to the vault where I hid the chalice.”
Franc broke off a piece of bannock and brought it to his mouth. He’d learned the virtue of patience while serving as a knight, but it did not come easy. If he had his way, he’d go to the vault now, retrieve the chalice, and leave for the rendezvous spot. But he respected Lazarus too much to challenge his plan.
When the drone of chants and prayers died down, and the monastery grew silent, Lazarus moved to the door and opened it a crack. He peered down the hallway, then faced Franc. “It is quiet, and I suspect all are in their cells. Follow me and I will take you to the vault.”
Franc tailed Lazarus down a series of corridors to a set of stone steps that led to a cavern beneath the monastery.
Lazarus grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall at the top of the stairs and used it to light their way.
Wine barrels and casks of whisky lined the wall of the vault, along with food stuffs and a wooden shelf containing blankets, pelts, robes, and assorted cookware. Upon reaching the back corner of the room, Lazarus handed Franc the torch.
“You hid the chalice in the storage room?” How Lazarus could consider this a safe hiding place, puzzled Franc.
“Not exactly.” Lazarus ran his hand along the wall, then stopped and pulled the dirk from its sheath. He picked at what appeared to be a loose stone, before using the blade to pry it from the wall.
Franc watched in awe as the hole behind the stone became visible. Lazarus reached inside and quickly produced a linen wrapped object. He returned the stone to its place. “I told you it was safe.” He carefully unwrapped the item, then handed the chalice over to Franc.
“Thank you. I admit I had some doubts that it would be here, but am glad you were right, and I was wrong.” He raised the gold goblet and examined it in the torch light. “Knowing its history and religious significance, I am humbled just to hold this in my hand again.” He quickly rewrapped it in the linen and tucked it into a pouch at his side. “Will we wait until morn to leave, or should we go now?”
“For the safety of the monks, it might be best to leave right away,” Lazarus said as they moved toward the stairs, halting when a ruckus in the monastery above caught their attention.
Chapter 9
“What do you think is wrong?” Franc asked when he heard the commotion above them. The French Guard was the first thing that sprang to mind.
Lazarus brought a finger to his lips, then hurried to the shelf, retrieved two robes, and handed one to Franc. “Put this on and make haste. If I am right, I think French agents are in the monastery.”
After donning one of the robes, Lazarus moved to another corner of the vault and tugged on a chain. Upon doing so, a portion of the wall retracted, revealing a hidden passageway. “Wait in here and I will go above and see what is happening. The lever on the wall opens and closes the door from inside. If the need for a quick escape arises, this passageway leads to a thick grove of trees behind the friary.” He steered Franc toward the tunnel.
Franc clutched Lazarus’s arm and dug in his heels, refusing to move. “No. You cannot go above if the French agents are there. You left our weapons by the gate and you cannot face them alone and unarmed. If they do not kill you, they will arrest you, then come for me. I do not care about myself, but am concerned about you and the chalice.” He tightened his grip. “If I surrender to them, they will take me and leave. Once we are away, you can continue to the castle of Clan Sinclair. They are located on the northernmost shore of Scotland, and will see our mission is completed.”
“I know of Clan Sinclair, but things are never that simple.” After prying Franc’s fingers from his arm, Lazarus took a step back. “They have seen your face, but na mine. I am at home in this priory and can easily blend in with the other monks. I willna allow the bastards to harm Simon or the other brothers to save myself. Do as I ask and wait for me here.” He shoved Franc into the hidden passageway, then raced up the stairs taking two steps at a time.
Despite what Lazarus said, Franc refused to wait idly by while he faced their enemy alone. After quickly returning the goblet to the hiding place, he raced across the cavern and up the stairs. Intent on surrendering himself over to the French Guard, he hoped that if he sacrificed his own freedom, and lied about the chalice’s true location, they would take him prisoner and leave the monks and Lazarus be.
Franc had no doubts that his friend would be furious. But if all went according to his plan, the chalice would remain in safe hands, and after Lazarus delivered it to Clan Sinclair, he could return to his home and family.
Praying his scheme would work, Franc halted at the top of the stairs and pressed an ear to the door. Before he rushed inside, he wanted to assess the situation. Surprised the shouting had stopped and the only voice he could hear belonged to Brother Simon, he listened intently.
“I told you I do not know the men of which you speak. Why would Templar knights come to a Catholic friary, knowing they wouldna be welcome here? The Pope condemned the Templar order and excommunicated it from the Church, so the heathens you seek would find no sanctuary here. I demand you leave at once.”
“We followed the man we hunt to this spot, monsieur, along with a Scotsman we believe is helping him. So, it makes sense they hide within these walls. Turn them over and we will leave. Refuse, and you will wish that you let us search,” one of the French agents said.
“You have no call to invade our sacred place,” Brother Simon countered. “This is na French soil, nor do you have the right to enter without permission. I give you my word as a man of God that we harbor no criminals here.”
“This may be Scotland, but the men we seek are enemies of King Philip V. They have committed crimes in France, and are fugitives from punishment,” the head of the French Guard replied.
Franc peered through a crack in the door, assessing the situation. He immediately spotted Lazarus standing behind a group of monks. Brother Simon positioned himself front and center. The leader of the French Guard stood a few feet away from him, but he had his back turned, so Franc could not see his face, but he counted at least a dozen blackguards accompanying him. Although tempted to hand himself over, it appeared for the moment, things were under control, so he stood his ground. He also worried about Brother Simon’s bold rebuttal, and shuddered to think what might happen to the man if they found out he lied to them. He waited, but was ready to act should the need arise.
Standing toe-to-toe with the French leader, Brother Simon glowered up at the man. “As a precaution against uninvited visitors, members of King Robert’s guard come by this monastery each night around this time to make sure things are quiet. Perhaps you would like to tell them why it is you saw fit to enter our sanctuary uninvited. If you dinna believe me, you may speak with them.”
After a moment’s pause, the head guard took a step back and bowed. “If you give me your word, we will go. But if I find out you have lied to me, we will be back, and next time, we will show no mercy.” He spun on his heel and addressed his men. “Return to the horses. We appear to have made a mistake, and the men we seek are not here.”
Franc blew out a sigh of relief, then slumped back with his spine resting against the wall. He was impressed with how calm and bravely Brother Simon addressed the intruders. And he was equally surprised that by choosing his words carefully, he could lie in a place of worship and at no time wavered. After the guards left and the monks disbanded, Simon spoke in private with Lazarus. Deciding it was best if he returned to the vault, Franc once again retrieved the chalice, tucked it in his pouch, and awaited his friend’s return.
“I thought I told you to stay in the secret passageway until I came back for you,” Lazar
us growled as he stomped down the stairs.
Franc glared back at Lazarus with equal intensity. “You did tell me to hide, but I could not let you and the monks take all the risk on my behalf. I returned the chalice to its hiding place and was prepared to surrender if the need arose. But thanks to Simon, that is not necessary.”
“You are lucky those French bastards dinna decide to search any farther than they did. Had they found you, it wouldna have boded well for the monks either.”
“But they did not find me, and all is well,” Franc said.
“For the time being,” Lazarus replied. “Simon thinks it best that we leave tonight. He is afraid they might return, and I must say I agree with him.”
Franc removed the monk’s robe, then patted the pouch at his side. “I also agree it is time to leave for the meeting place. We have what we came for, and I do not want to cause the monks more grief than I have already.” He headed for the stairs.
Lazarus clutched Franc’s forearm. “And where might that be? It is my turn to be enlightened as to the next destination in our journey.”
“A town called Kinloch,” Franc said. “There is a man I must meet who will direct us to the secret meeting place. The exact location is not known to any of those carrying a piece of the treasure. We are supposed to meet with a bootmaker by the name of Finlay. If for any reason we cannot connect with him, we are to continue to the north of Scotland, to Rosslyn Castle, the home of Clan Sinclair.”
“Then best we be off.” Lazarus removed his monk’s garb and the two men left the monastery, but not the way they’d entered. Instead, they used another secret passageway located behind the altar in the chapel, one that led out of the building and into a grove of trees.
Simon met them behind the friary and had their mounts and their weapons ready. “I wish you both God’s speed,” he said as he handed over the reins. “I had Brother Mark pack some supplies you might need.” He gave a canvas sack to Lazarus along with two wineskins.
“Thank you.” Lazarus hauled Simon into an embrace, then released him and mounted his horse. “I hope you dinna have any more trouble from the French agents.”
“Dinna fash, we will be fine. Just take care of yourselves and stay out of harm’s way. I will pray for you.” Simon made the sign of the cross in the air, blessing them both before disappearing into the bushes.
~ ~ ~
Although the journey to Kinloch was without incident, at no time did they let their guard down. They traveled both day and night, only stopping long enough to spell the horses and to take a brief nap. Exhausted, they arrived outside the village on the morning of the fifth day of travel.
Franc dismounted and immediately searched for a place to hide the chalice. If captured when he rode into town, he didn’t want to lose the valuable religious artifact. “I need you to stay here and await my return,” Franc said to Lazarus.
“What are you talking about? I’m coming with you,” Lazarus replied.
“No. I plan to bury the chalice here, then I will ride into town and find Finlay. Once I am certain I have the right man, and learn what to do, or where to go next, I can return for it, and for you.” Franc squatted beside a large Rock, tilted it forward, and began to dig. “Besides, it is safer if we do not ride into town together. If I fail to return in two hours, you will know something went wrong. If that happens, I ask that you take the chalice to Clan Sinclair.” He placed the pouch containing the goblet into the hole, covered it with dirt, then put the rock back on top of it, concealing the spot.
“You dinna expect me to just ride off and leave you?” Lazarus slid from the saddle and stomped toward Franc. “Now that you have buried the chalice, I say we ride into town together.”
“There is no point in both of us getting caught,” Franc said. “Please do as I request. If not for me, then do it for the sake of the chalice. We have come too far to lose it now.”
After taking a moment to mull over the request, Lazarus nodded. “Fine. I will do as you ask. But promise me you willna take any chances. If you arrive in town and suspect you are in danger, return immediately and we will leave.”
“Agreed.” Franc mounted and rode off before Lazarus could change his mind.
As he arrived at the edge of the village, he slowed his mount to a walk and glanced up and down the street. When in Edinburg, Claude Monnet informed him that Finlay—a former Templar—was a merchant who sold leather goods and boots. In a town this size, Franc figured there was likely to be only one such vendor. He dismounted and approached a passing crofter. “Excuse me, sir.”
“What do you want?” the man asked.
“Can you tell me where I might find Finlay, the bootmaker?”
“Aye. His shop is next to yonder tavern.” The man pointed at the inn, then sauntered down the road.
Prior to entering, Franc peered through the front window of the shop. Given the French Guard were trailing him and could show up anywhere, he’d take no chances. Satisfied it was safe to go inside, he opened the door and entered. In addition to an older gentleman, working on a pair of boots behind a wooden counter, there was one other patron. Determined not to discuss his mission in front of the man, he waited until they were alone to approach what he assumed was Finlay.
“The weather is cold for this time of year. Do you think it might snow?” Franc said. While an odd thing to say in mid-summer, the statement identified him as a Templar. If not Finlay, the man would merely think him daft.”
The bootmaker didn’t look up from his work. “It might snow if hell freezes over and the devil goes to heaven,” he replied.
Relieved upon hearing the correct response to his comment, Franc moved closer and lowered his voice. “My name is Francois de Valier and I was told you would help me. I have something you might find of interest. I am a—”
“I know who you are and why you have come,” Finlay snapped before Franc could finish. “Take a minute to browse the shop like a regular patron, then leave. I will lock up as soon as you go.”
“You are leaving?”
“Aye. I have a meeting to attend, and am closing the shop early today,” Finlay informed him.
“But I have traveled a great distance and must speak with you on a matter of foremost importance.” Franc rounded the counter, blocking Finlay’s only means of departure. “Please, I need but a minute of your time.”
“I am already late. Return when the hour strikes five, and I will speak with you then,” Finlay said. “But dinna come to the front door. Instead, go around to the back of the shop and enter there.”
Left with no choice but to honor Finlay’s request, Franc spent a few minutes looking at the merchandise, then sauntered out of the shop. The minute Franc’s feet touched the walkway, Finlay closed the shutters, then locked the door behind him.
Confused by the delay and his contact’s unusual instructions, Franc strode toward his horse, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed a lovely young woman crossing the roadway heading toward the tavern. A woman he thought he knew.
His jaw slackened and his breath caught. He willed his legs to move in her direction, but they suddenly felt like posts of iron, and he couldn’t force them to budge. He tried to call out, but he couldn’t find his voice. His heart leapt when she glanced at him, but sank again when a young lad raced up to her and threw his arms around her waist. An older woman Franc assumed was his caretaker, or perhaps his grandmother followed on the boy’s heels.
“Mama,” the wee lad squealed with glee as he hugged her. Can we go and see Papa now? You promised?”
“Aye, my wee scamp, I will take you to visit your father,” the woman said as she scooped up her son and disappeared around the corner.
Franc gave his head a shake. While from a distance, the woman appeared to be the image of Giselle, there was no way it could be her. He knew that to be
certain. The lass he saw was the mother of a young boy and lived here, in the Scottish Highlands. He’d left the Giselle he knew and loved behind in France. Convinced it was merely a coincidence, or his mind playing cruel games, he climbed atop his horse and kicked it into a trot.
Chapter 10
Franc rode into the small clearing where he had asked Lazarus to wait and dismounted.
“You have returned already?” Lazarus’s shocked expression and the hint of surprise in his tone were unmistakable. “Did you find Finlay? Were you able to speak to him about the chalice?” he badgered.
“Oui, and no.” Franc strode toward Lazarus, then sat on a fallen log beside the stream. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, but something told him that his persistent friend would not give up easily. So far, he’d avoided discussing Giselle, but he feared that would soon change.
Lazarus frowned. “Your answer is vague, my friend. Is it aye or nay? Did you speak to him or na?”
“I found his shop, and he was there.”
“Alone?” Lazarus cut in before Franc could finish.
“Oui. Except for one patron who left when I arrived.”
“Then you spoke to him. What did he say? Did he tell you where to take the chalice, or was he willing to see it the rest of the way himself?” Lazarus rattled off questions so rapidly that Franc didn’t have an opportunity to respond to one before he asked another.
“I never got the chance to ask him anything.” Franc glared at Lazarus and shook his head. “If you will let me finish, I will tell you what happened.”
“Fine.” Lazarus sat on the log beside him.
“When I entered the shop and started to introduce myself, Finlay cut me off, and told me he knew who I was, and why I was there,” Franc said. “That stunned me. But it shocked me more when he informed me that he had a meeting to attend, then ordered me to leave.”
