Another strike of lightning flashed overhead and Katherine knew they were close to the sixth cave, the one the lightning and ravens had revealed to them. They walked in silence a little while longer, the pull of adventure tamping down her discomfort.
The entrance to the cave came into view and Katherine stepped forward, looking around in hopes of remembering any details. Unfortunately, it looked the same as all the other caves, with towering gray walls of stone and random boulders littering the ground. It was one of the larger caves, she remembered, and this one certainly was large, the back deep enough to be completely hidden in the shadows. Had she known a massive ancient treasure resided in the cave when she had found the brooch, mayhap she would have paid better attention.
“Is this the one?” Juan asked, holding the lantern out in front of him. His dark Spanish features looked menacing in the dim light, but she knew Juan was loyal to Thomas.
“I am unsure, Juan. It looks familiar, but I did visit many of these caverns on my first journey.” Lifting her own lantern, she stepped into the shadows of the cave, running her hand over the rough, frigid rock wall. It was slightly damp beneath her touch.
Thomas walked the perimeter, seeking any gaps in the wall or obvious fissures. “I do not see anything,” he grumbled.
“Aye, well the treasure has been buried for fifteen hundred years, Thomas. I do not suppose we would see anything on the surface. Mayhap you and Juan should start digging while I continue to search near the back of the cave.” Katherine’s stomach knotted up painfully. Had she put them through all this trouble only to lead them to a dead end? Nay, she knew she found that brooch in these caves, and she was not wrong about the lightning and ravens. It was all too coincidental to put aside. She must keep the faith.
After an hour of digging in several areas of the cold, damp cave floor, Juan and Thomas were breaking a sweat and grumbling under their breath. Katherine’s search of the cave had come up empty and she was beginning to lose hope. It was pitch black outside and heavy clouds rained angrily upon the world. Perhaps Lugh had been warning them away, not beckoning them onward.
A loud clang, like metal on metal, reverberated off the cave walls louder than the thunder rolling outside. “I hit something!” Thomas shouted. She and Juan ran over, both holding up their nearly burned out lanterns to help look into the shallow hole Thomas had dug. Several similar holes marred the cave floor, but this was the first to yield any excitement.
“Keep digging!” Katherine squealed, praying they would find something and get the bloody hell out of these freezing caves. Her skin was numb from her soaked-through clothing but she never complained. Thomas would have left her behind in a heartbeat, but she had wanted to come. Juan picked up his shovel and contributed to Thomas’s effort. Within a short time, the top of a very obvious medium-sized iron chest was visible, intricate Celtic engravings covering its surface, though now caked in dirt.
“These are, eh… Celtic, no?” Juan asked. He bent over and used his hand to dust off the surface of the chest.
“Aye. I dinnae ken what they mean, but they are Celtic.”
Squatting to see better, Katherine squinted into the dimly lit hole to better see the designs. She blew the dirt away to make it more visible, then gasped at what she saw. Her heart beat in overtime. “Aye! This is it! It has to be!”
“How can ye ken, love?” Thomas murmured, looking at her with a furrowed brow.
“These three symbols, all in a row.” Katherine pointed to one, then the other two. “They are the ancient symbols for the elements water, fire, and earth.”
“My lady,” Juan’s deep, silky Spanish voice said from beside her. “What do these, how do you say, elements, have to do with the Treasure of Danu?”
“Though the spear, sword, and cauldron were created by the gods, it was the ancient Sisters of Danu who controlled water, fire, and earth. Those are your ancestors, Thomas.”
Juan looked at her with mouth agape. “You know much of the ancient people, for an English-born lady,” Juan said as he ran a hand through his beard.
“I may have been born English, my Spanish friend, but I am an Irish lass through and through. I love this land, its people, its history… and I have studied it for years.”
Thomas, satisfied with her explanation, grabbed her face in his large dirty hands and pulled her to him, giving her a loud kiss on the lips before pulling away. “Right. Let us get this blasted treasure out of the ground!” His eyes twinkled and Katherine smiled. She knew this moment meant the most to Thomas, who has been dreaming of these caves and treasure all his life. She was honored to be here with him as he unearthed it.
Several moments later, the entire top half of the chest was visible, and Thomas and Juan struggled with all their might to dislodge it from the solid, packed earth it had slumbered in for over a millennium. With a little more digging and lots of pulling and grunting, the chest came free from the ground, its weight pulling Juan and Thomas back down with it when it crashed to the cave floor.
Wiping a hand across his face, Thomas left an enduring dirt streak over his forehead. Katherine waited in agony and Thomas prepared to open it for the first time.
“Are ye ready?” he asked, clear anticipation in his voice.
“Curse it, Thomas! Open the bloody chest!” Katherine said playfully, bouncing up and down with anticipation.
He smirked at her, then looked at Juan, who solemnly nodded. Thomas worked carefully at the old rusted iron hook that had served as a lock for centuries. “It’s rusted shut,” he said, standing up and pulling his rapier from his belt. A few hard whacks and the iron hook fell away, onto the ground. He gave it a hard tug, but it did not open. “Devil’s bollocks,” he murmured, running a hand around the rim, seeking any other barriers.
“They did not have locks, Thomas. It must be rusted in the hinges.”
“The bloody thing willnae open. Mayhap we should carry it out to the cart and deal with it later. Our lanterns have nearly burned out and ye are shivering, Kat.”
“What if there is more treasure to unearth?” she questioned. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off and her teeth began to chatter loudly. Crossing her arms to stave off the cold was futile at this point, but she did it anyway.
“We can come back another time now that we know where it is, lass. I willnae have ye die of a chill.”
She wanted to argue but knew he was correct. She was frozen through. It sounded as if the rain had subsided and now would be a good time to traverse the slippery hillside, before their lanterns died out altogether. With her nod of acceptance, Thomas took hold of one rusted iron handle and Juan took the other, hoisting the chest with a grunt. Both men carried their lanterns in their other hands and began to leave the cave, Katherine trailing behind them carefully, feeling her boots sink into the mud with every step as wind wrapped around her once more.
Though the men carried what must have been a terribly heavy chest, the trek down the hill felt much quicker than the journey upward. In little time they were in front of the cart and the men grunted as they heaved the chest into the back. Katherine could not wait to get to… wherever they were going, for they had not even discussed a future beyond finding the treasure. Apprehensively, she climbed into the back of the cart, pleased to be out of the rain and cold, though it was not much better inside the covered space, with the opening of the tarp creating a wind tunnel, blowing her hair around her face.
“Ye all right, love?” Thomas asked, obviously sensing her sudden change of mood.
She wanted to ask where they were going. Would his grandmother threaten her again? Where would they live? Was he now an English outlaw? Would he resent her for being part of his downfall as an honored knight? What was truly within this chest now lying at her feet in this old rickety cart? Instead, she pursed her lips shut and gave him a nod.
He looked at her with concern for a moment but then smiled. “We did it, love.”
Two dark, hooded figures stepped into her line of vie
w from behind Juan and Thomas just outside the back of the cart, like specters from the Underworld, and ice-cold fear flooded Katherine’s veins. “Behind ye!” Katherine screamed, but it was too late. As the hilts of the cloaked men’s swords simultaneously crashed down on their heads, Thomas and Juan crumpled to the ground. A blood-curdling scream escaped Katherine’s throat just as another man jumped into the covered cart holding a dirty rag and a length of rope.
“Nay! Thomas! Nay!” she wailed just before the sour rag was shoved into her open mouth and tied painfully behind her head.
As the man yanked her arms behind her back to tie her hands, he snarled at her, menacing dark eyes boring into hers. “Your father sends his regards, my lady,” the man said with a cultured English voice, just as the cart pulled away with haste, taking her and the treasure far away from Thomas, and no doubt, on the way to her madman of a father.
Chapter Fourteen
“Sir Thomas!” Juan’s thick accent was the first thing he heard before searing pain erupted at his temples, threatening to take him back under again. Wet and muddy, his entire body ached, but his brain felt as if it was ready to burst. “Sir Thomas! They have taken your wife! And the treasure.”
“My wife?” Thomas sat up swiftly, a sudden roiling in his gut. Leaning over, he spilled what little contents were left in his stomach and wiped his mouth with his drenched sleeve, certain he was only smearing more mud on his face. “Who… who took her?”
Juan looked down at him, shaking his head. “I am not certain, Captain. She cried out a warning to us just before we were hit in the head. I am certain at least one man was involved. They took the cart, horses… everything.
Fear gripped Thomas’s gut. They had his wife. He cared not for the bloody treasure. Someone had his wife.
“Who would do this?” Juan asked.
The answer came to Thomas as clear as the stars overhead on a cloudless summer night. “Her father.”
“But he is injured, no?” Juan put out a hand and helped Thomas out of the large puddle he had landed in.
“He is injured, but strong enough to murder a servant and he is still the commander of many men. He was at the house before we arrived. I was foolish to not consider this further…”
“Consider what, Capt’n?”
“That the man knew Katherine must return home. He had men watching, following, waiting to take her. Once they saw our destination, they had to know we sought something of value. They allowed us to do the work, awaiting our return!” he roared, then gripped his pounding head. Running his hand over his scalp, he felt the remains of dried, sticky blood in his hair, or mayhap it was mud. Either way, he was no longer bleeding, but his head would ache like the devil for some time. They were stranded in the rain and dark with no transportation. They would have to travel back to Clew Bay on foot and by then, Katherine would be in the clutches of her father once more.
Remembering the marks Bingham had previously left on Katherine, another wave of nausea hit Thomas hard, but he swallowed it down. All he could do now was reach Clew Bay and gather his crew. Her father wanted to take her home to England; he had told Katherine as much. He was wounded and not capable of much more than commanding a ship. Thomas’s gut told him he would find the bastard with his wife and his treasure on the seas heading toward England, and he vowed to hunt the man down. Once he was done with this nightmare, he could worry about the gold in the chest and hidden gems beneath the floorboards at the Governor’s manor. For now, he had a wife to save. That thought made a rebellious smile briefly cross his lips. He had a wife, aye, and he would do anything for her. The sudden loss of her made his affection clearer than ever.
How he had come to value Katherine Bingham, his enemy’s daughter, above the ancient treasure he had sought all his life, he could not fathom. But suddenly he understood, whether he knew it or not, it had been Katherine he sought all along, and he would be damned if he would lose her now.
Rubbing his temples, and with single-minded determination, he put one foot in front of the other, feeling the soggy earth shift beneath his boots with every step. His beige wool breaches and white tunic were now all one equally awful shade of mud-brown, but he never did care for the finery of the lords.
“Come, Juan. We shall travel to New Castle Manor. It is a closer distance than Clew Bay. From there, I am certain Governor Bingham will not mind if we borrow a couple of horses from his stables. Then, on to Clew Bay.”
“What are we going to do, Captain?” Juan asked as he followed in Thomas’s footsteps.
“I am going to kill him… again.”
The rough sea rocked the ship enough to make Katherine’s stomach roil. With both her hands and feet bound, practically held hostage in her own father’s cabin aboard his ship, it was all she could do to swallow back the urge to vomit. Fortunately, the awful storms had passed, but the wind and rain still pounded down on them. More than once in the past three days, she had feared the main mast would crack in two, snapping the boat in half and delivering them all to a watery grave.
The ancient treasure chest sat in the corner of the cabin beside her father’s bed. He was gravely injured; she could tell by the permanent sheen on his deathlike gray skin. Irritability and scorn were his only emotions when he had her delivered roughly by his three henchmen. They had left her unscathed, and she was thankful for small mercies, though she could not say the same for Thomas or Juan. Were they alive? The thought had tormented her endlessly every minute of every day, only adding to her constant nausea. After three days at sea, she thought for certain Thomas would have come for them. His absence frightened her. They must be closer to England than Ireland at this point, and she was not even sure if Thomas was alive or if he would, or could, try to find her.
The door to her father’s cabin opened slowly with a creak and she saw his blond head peek in before he hobbled forward, holding his injured side. “Have you figured out how to open it yet?” her father scowled, not bothering to look her in the eye. None of his men could get the chest open, yet for some reason, he felt she could accomplish the task. Once she proved unable to force it open, she had been tied again. Something about the Celtic runes carved into the lid of the chest gave her pause. She had a strange feeling about them but had had no time to truly consider them.
“Nay. ’Tis stuck. It may require special tools to open. It has lain in the ground for fifteen centuries, after all.” She was just fine with his lack of affection. If he could turn on her so swiftly, then he was no true father.
“I cannot believe you married him.” He had repeated that more and more every day.
“I cannot believe you are capable of so many terrible crimes, including murder.” She looked away from him with disgust. He had not attempted to beat her, but she believed it had more to do with his own injuries and his crew watching than his unwillingness to do so.
“I only ever did what I needed to do to. Peasants, servants, slaves,” he waved his hands around his head in dismissal. “They must be shown their place. If one or two die in the process, it is God’s will. I am certain my queen will agree.”
Katherine was not so certain, but she knew very little of the queen she was very close to meeting. Her father meant to thrust her existence onto her sister and stepmother in England. Her heart was aching in so many ways for the loss of Thomas, the loss of her life in Ireland, the loss of the opportunity she missed to help the poor people. What would happen to all the gold locked in her father’s chest? If he died from his wound, no doubt another governor would be appointed and move into the house. Would that man be kinder than her father? Will he discover the gold and keep it for himself? Give it to his queen? Share it with the Irish? Only she and Thomas knew of its existence and he had meant to give the queen’s fair share to her, and use the rest to help the Irish, but he was gone… the reality of that thought made her throat close up painfully as she swallowed her grief.
“You will have a better life in England.” Her father patted her head as if she were a
wee child and not a woman full grown. “Are you with child?” His sudden accusatory tone made her gasp. She had not truly thought on that, but it was a possibility. Would he beat her if she admitted she might be? She could not know for sure, but if she did carry Thomas’s unborn child, she would do anything, say anything, to protect its life.
“Nay.” She replied with conviction.
“How can you know? Do not lie to me and say that man did not defile you. He is an O’Malley swine! Any child created from his seed would be the foulest mix of blood.”
Katherine grimaced at his harsh words. Her father was truly a hateful man. “I have started my… woman’s courses.” She whispered the lie and would leave it at that.
“You love him. I know you do. I heard it in your frantic voice when he jumped aboard my ship. You shouted his name from the main deck… you did not shout for me. You shouted for him.” Though he was thin and pale, he still towered over her. Tied as she was, she could not defend herself should he turn on her. Still, there was no sense in lying. If Thomas was gone, she would not dishonor the brief, yet overpowering love they shared.
“Aye. I do love him, Papa. He is not what you think he is. He is a loyal knight to his queen. His code of honor sits deep within him, guiding him.”
“He is a pirate!” Her father shouted, cutting her off. “He is filth! He is not worthy of your praise!”
“No more than ye are!” she shouted back, finally unable to resist her rage. “I found your bloody chest of stolen gold! Spanish gold! That was meant to aid the Irish in their freedom!”
“We are English, Katherine! The Spanish are our enemies! The Irish are our enemies! I took that gold out of allegiance to my queen and country!”
“Then why does it remain locked and hidden away in your room? Why is it not aboard this ship, in transport to the queen? Admit it, Father! Ye are the bloody pirate! Not Thomas Esmonde!”
Pirates of Britannia Box Set Page 63
