by Jody Hedlund
In the dark of night, one small band of rebels had overpowered the gatekeepers and had stolen the bodies in order to give them a proper burial. The rebels and the bodies had never been located, though it was rumored King Ethelwulf had spent a great deal of time hunting them down.
I’d always been curious regarding the band who had so bravely defied King Ethelwulf and stolen the queen and king off the castle wall. I’d also admired their loyalty to the deceased couple—which had told me more about the previous king and queen than anything my tutor had taught me. The king and queen had been well loved and revered by the people of Mercia, so much that people had been willing to risk their lives for the couple even after they were dead.
Princess Constance had been only three years old at the time King Ethelwulf had taken the throne. Apparently, at the threat of attack on Delsworth, the princess had been evacuated along with most of the court to the city of Everly, which was situated among the foothills of the Iron Hills.
When King Ethelwulf’s troops arrived in Everly, the nobility had already fled, Princess Constance was gone, and her old crippled nursemaid had been found dead in the nursery—stabbed in the chest with what had appeared to be a self-inflicted wound. She’d killed herself and had taken to the grave the whereabouts of Princess Constance. Since then, no one had known what had become of the princess.
Until now . . .
Now King Ethelwulf knew I was still alive. And after word reached him of the slaughter of his guard, he’d also know I would not be easily subdued. That, in fact, I planned to reclaim the throne. At least I tentatively planned that, though I knew not how I’d manage such a feat.
I shifted against the rocky wall, trying to find a more comfortable position. As tired as I was, sleep eluded me, bullied away by my ever-growing anxiety regarding the future, especially whether I’d made the right decision on where to go next.
Christopher wanted to take me to Norland, to King Draybane, assuring me the king would support my cause. It was doubtful he would lend his soldiers to our fight, but at the very least, he would give me refuge while we strategized. Christopher believed there were enough Mercians living in exile in Norland who were ready to rise up against King Ethelwulf.
Mitchell, on the other hand, insisted we go south and follow Sister Katherine’s instructions to locate my sisters. He was determined to look for the illusive hidden treasure with the hope it would bring success to our campaign. After more heated debate last night, I’d come to the conclusion we’d fare best if we adhered to Sister Katherine’s directive. I took to heart her cryptic, almost prophetic words: You are not alone. You must find your sisters. Together you will discover the treasure that will enable you to destroy the evil that has blighted this land.
If all went as planned, by the end of the week I’d meet one of my sisters—Emmeline of Inglewood Forest. Once we explained her identity, would she embrace me? I couldn’t deny I hoped so.
Yet my misgivings unsettled my stomach. What if she didn’t like me? Even worse, what if we couldn’t find her? How would we know where to begin our search among the vast miles and miles of woodland? Sister Katherine had said Emmeline was in the forest being raised by a charcoal burner and his wife. But how did we know that was still true, that they had remained in the woods, that they hadn’t moved elsewhere over the years?
In addition, there were probably several dozen charcoal burners with official licenses living in the forests, but many more who operated independently and illegally. How would we narrow our search? And how would we evade Ethelwulf’s soldiers? Though we were attempting to mask our tracks and scent, surely his best knights would continue to hunt me.
I moved again, trying to get comfortable, but to no avail. At the scuffle of footsteps outside the cave, I opened my eyes.
“Are you still awake?” Mitchell whispered as he crawled through the cave entrance, hidden by roots and moss from several of the trees growing above.
“I wish I could so easily forget the worries of the day like Tall John,” I whispered with a glance to our faithful manservant, whose soft snores drifted in the quiet of the cave.
“Have no fear.” Mitchell unstrapped his belt with its assortment of weapons before lowering himself to the cave floor next to me. “We shall find Emmeline soon enough.”
At the very least, my decision to search for Emmeline had satisfied Mitchell and had assured him I valued his advice as much as Christopher’s. If only the two would make peace with each other.
“Before King Ethelwulf finds us? I fear next time he attacks, his men will be more prepared.” My mind filled with images from the battle last night, how overwhelmed I’d felt when the king’s men surrounded us on all sides. If not for my chain mail and armor, I would have been dead. And if not for Christopher’s exceptional aim with his arrows, we would have been defeated.
That thought had plagued me all throughout the long night—the realization I wasn’t as infallible or as strong as I’d believed. Christopher’s rebuke still chafed me. You were reckless to ride into battle with no heed for the size or strength of your enemy. You let pride in your skills cloud your judgment.
Though I hadn’t wanted to hear it, he’d been right. Henceforth, all I could do was learn from my mistake and pray the next time I faced King Ethelwulf’s soldiers, I’d do so with more wisdom and skill.
“Do not trouble yourself,” Mitchell said in the soothing tone he oft used with me. “Once we find the treasure, we shall have the wealth and power to do whatever we wish.”
“If we find it.”
“We shall. Sister Katherine has assured us that after you are reunited with your sisters, you will locate the treasure.” His shoulder brushed against mine, and he smiled at me warmly. “You do still have the key, do you not?”
I fumbled for the leather pouch strapped to my side underneath the chain mail and my tunic. I loosened the strings and dug inside, grazing the signet ring King Francis had once worn. And then my fingers closed around the key. “I have it.”
“May I see it again?” His eyes lit with excitement I couldn’t resist. While Mitchell shared the same brown eyes and dark hair coloring as Christopher, that’s where the similarities ended. Mitchell’s angular face was more serious and aristocratic compared to Christopher’s chiseled yet dashing countenance.
I’d never really considered whether Mitchell was handsome, not when I’d always secretly been enamored with Christopher. But now that the two brothers were together, I realized Mitchell had turned into a fine-looking man, too, though strangely, neither his appearance nor his aura appealed to me the way Christopher’s did.
The remembrance of Christopher’s kiss upon my knuckles caused sparks in my midsection like flint against wood. His mouth had been soft and warm, his kiss so tender. The strange sensation had filled me with confusion and a longing I still didn’t understand and needed to put from my mind straight away.
I placed the key in Mitchell’s outstretched hand. The sunlight streaming in through the cave opening past the tangle of roots gave him enough light to examine it. The pure gold glistened as he turned it over, studying the pomegranate pattern on the bit. “It is not as heavy as one would expect for being solid gold.”
“Perhaps it is hollow.”
He cradled the thick shank in his palm, weighing it. “I think you may be right.” He twisted the oval bow at the top. When it didn’t budge, he attempted to rotate the elegant collar at the pin. It didn’t move either.
“Do you believe the key somehow comes apart?” I asked.
“I can only conjecture from the rumors I have heard. Most speculators believe each key somehow contains a clue pointing to the whereabouts of the treasure.”
I reached over and rubbed my thumb across the engraving on the bit. “Perhaps the picture is the clue, like hieroglyphs that communicate words through images.”
“In ancient times, the pomegranate represented wisdom and learning. But such a symbol is much too vague to lead to the treasure.” He fell si
lent as he again carefully examined the relic.
“Maybe one needs all three keys to make sense of the clues,” I offered.
He released a disappointed sigh and returned the key to me. “You are correct, which is probably why Sister Katherine said you would have to work with your sisters.”
I ran my fingers along the shank. Upon reaching the thin band that separated the shank from the collar, I stuck my fingernail into the narrow groove. When I tried removing it, the key’s grip held fast. I wiggled the tip of my finger, hoping to loosen the hold, only to find that I’d somehow pressed in deeper.
“Look what I have done,” I said to Mitchell with a smile. “I have been captured by the key.”
He leaned forward and, seeing my predicament, gave a low whistle. “Adelaide, you have done it.”
“I am only jesting.”
“No, you have indeed discovered something more about the key.” He peered closer at my fingernail wedged in the key. “I need a pin. Might you have one I could use?”
I plucked a hairpin from the mess of my tangled locks.
Eagerly he took it and poked the sharp end into the slit near my fingernail. He loosened the grip just enough for me to free myself then proceeded to wiggle the pin and prick the key, pressing all the way around the thin band. At a sudden click, the shank separated from the pin.
I sucked in my breath and waited as he worked carefully and slowly to finish prying the two pieces apart. When the shank finally came loose, Mitchell grinned and held up a narrow, empty tube.
“You were right.” His voice hummed with renewed excitement. “It is hollow.”
I reached for the shank, curious to see if it contained anything. Mitchell reluctantly released it, and I proceeded to peer inside and tip it over to no avail.
Mitchell handed me the hairpin. “There may be something wedged inside.”
I slipped the pin into the hollow area and began a meticulous search along the edges, hoping to discover a note or item that might indicate more about the hidden treasure. “It is empty,” I said. “If the shank ever held a clue, it no longer does.”
“Did you reach the very tip, up near the bow?” His expression urged me to continue to try, not to give up yet.
I slipped the pin in farther and pressed against something. I wasn’t sure if I’d simply touched the end or not, so I handed the shank and pin to Mitchell. “Maybe you should try.”
Biting his lower lip as was his habit when concentrating, Mitchell gently probed until he finally grinned. “I have pried it loose.”
“What loose?”
He tipped the shank upside down and tapped at the sides. Seconds later, a wad as small as a pea fell into his palm.
For a minute, we could only stare at the crumpled item. Finally, he lifted his hand toward me, deferring to me again.
I unraveled the scrap of parchment. It was leathery and wrinkled and worn with time. One side was blank, but on the other were two tiny block letters H. W. and the word Fortress.
“H. W. Fortress,” I read.
He nodded at the parchment scrap. “May I?”
I handed it to him and waited as he examined the neat writing.
“This is no ancient language or message,” I said, confused to find the print readable. “Not what I had expected for King Solomon’s treasure.”
Mitchell scrutinized the parchment, his expression intense, his eyes narrowed. “Perhaps a recent king, maybe King Alfred the Peacemaker or one of his forefathers, found the treasure and relocated it for better safekeeping. Or at the very least, took the initiative to hide clues to its whereabouts.”
“Then you think H. W. Fortress is the location of the treasure?”
He shook his head. “No. That would be too easy. But this fortress is clearly someplace we need to go in order to uncover additional information.”
“H. W. Fortress. I can recall no place in Mercia with that name. Can you?”
“My guess is that if this clue was written decades or even a century ago, the fortress may no longer exist.”
I tried to picture the old drawing of Mercia we’d once studied during our geography lessons, a map from when Mercia and Warwick had been united under King Alfred and had simply been known as Bryttania. As I attempted to recreate the diagram in my mind, I couldn’t remember anything labeled H. W. Fortress.
I leaned back against the cave wall again and closed my eyes. The excitement of finding something in the key faded with the realization it was likely only the first of many puzzles we must solve to find the location of the treasure. Even if we eventually found the site, it appeared a previous king had already discovered it. Would anything remain? Was it even worth pursuing? Especially when so much was at stake?
As I fell into a restless sleep, doubts crept in and left me more confused than ever.
Chapter
10
Christopher
The skin at the back of my neck prickled with unease. I glanced over my shoulder into the dense woods we’d traversed. But I could see nothing that should alarm me. Only the lush green of the heavy underbrush that covered the forest floor and impeded our travels.
After one night of navigating Inglewood Forest in the dark, I’d realized the foolishness of my plan to ride by night and sleep by day. That had worked on Langley land and on the heathland we’d crossed with only boulders, gorse, heather, and a few silver birches. However, once we’d entered the thick vegetation of the forest, we’d circled aimlessly, going nowhere. We’d lost precious time and would find no charcoal burners’ houses in the dark.
Halfway through the first night, we’d made camp, slept, and resumed our journey by light of day. Yesterday we hadn’t seen a single soul. Today we’d glimpsed evidence of smoke rising a distance off to our west. But after riding for hours, we still hadn’t encountered a charcoal burner’s fire or home.
Now, near dusk, I was beginning to believe we were being followed. I didn’t think our pursuers could be Ethelwulf’s men. Though we’d traveled nigh five days since the night we’d battled his elite guard, the lone squire I’d released would have needed two days of hard travel to reach Delsworth to the east. Even if Ethelwulf had sent more guards after us right away, his men couldn’t catch up to us so quickly. I guessed we had at least a day’s lead.
Nevertheless, the prickle on my neck crept up to my scalp, and I tugged my chain mail hood forward. I wanted to move directly behind Adelaide so I’d be in a position to protect her better. But she’d stayed close to Mitchell over the past couple of days.
I hadn’t agreed with her decision to attempt to locate her sisters first. I’d wanted to ride directly to Norland where King Draybane would counsel us wisely on how to proceed. He’d become like a father to me and would do all he could to come to my aid.
However, Mitchell had persuaded Adelaide we should pursue the other princesses and the treasure before doing anything else. I suspected he was enamored with the treasure hunt more than finding the princesses, especially after discovering the slip of parchment inside the key. He’d talked of little else since.
I couldn’t fault Adelaide for her desire to seek out her sisters or the treasure. We’d be stronger with both. Yet I was apprehensive to remain in Mercia now that Ethelwulf knew about Adelaide.
A sudden flap of wings in the high branches overhead startled me. Through the canopy of leaves, a dozen or more blackbirds rose into the gray sky, the sign danger was rapidly approaching.
My steed tossed his head and snorted as if adding his warning.
“We’ve got company,” I called to the others.
Ahead, Tall John unsheathed his sword and scanned the woodland. “Which direction, my lord?”
I reined my horse and stopped to listen. The others did likewise.
Except for the angry squawk of the blackbirds flying away, the forest was strangely silent. Only the faint rustle of the afternoon breeze among the leaves mingled with the soft buzz of cicadas.
Whoever was following us knew the f
orest well enough to stay undercover.
I surveyed the low-lying brush, taking in each twig and leaf. At the pair of golden eyes staring through a narrow parting of leaves, I froze.
“Mitchell,” I said quietly. “You and Adelaide climb up the tall oak next to you.”
I scoured the dense, low greenery and counted five more pairs of golden eyes for a total of six. And each was locked on Adelaide. My blood turned to ice and spurted forward in painful, sharp bursts.
“John,” I continued as calmly as I could manage. “Take our horses due south. Tie them there and hasten back. We shall have need of every hand for the fight.”
We couldn’t risk losing our horses, and they’d spook, cause more chaos, only getting in the way of the battle. I slid off my mount and handed the reins to Tall John. He took them without question.
Of course, Adelaide was not so compliant. She remained on her steed and slanted a demanding gaze at me. “I am better at fighting upon a horse.”
“To the tree, Adelaide.” My voice turned urgent. And when the first pair of golden eyes pushed through the brush to reveal a narrow black snout, sharp fangs, and pointed ears, my veins converged into a pool of panic at the center of my chest. “Now.”
“You do not know me well enough to make such a decision for me,” she responded, her tone growing haughty.
“For the love of the saints, Adelaide.” I took out my first arrow, nocked and aimed it at the enormous black wolf crouched less than two dozen paces away. “I beg you to obey me for once.”
After the battle the other night and retrieving the arrows I could reuse, I had only five left in my quiver. I couldn’t afford to miss a single shot. Even then, I would find myself one arrow short of what I needed.
Though I stood in closer proximity to the wolf, its golden eyes were fixed upon Adelaide’s back. From its size and strength, I surmised this pack wasn’t ordinary. Rather they were Highland black wolves. Ethelwulf used special animal trainers known as Fera Agmen to communicate with wild animals and control their behavior.
