by Jody Hedlund
Chapter
5
Maribel
The spiderwebs coating the tunnels were as thick as the snow that had fallen all night and covered our tracks. Well, maybe the sticky webs weren’t quite as thick as the snow, but I shuddered with each dangling strand blocking our path. We’d been traversing the hidden passageways for the past two hours since riding down from the Highlands and entering the Iron Hills. Every time I asked, Edmund reassured me the tunnels would take us to St. Cuthbert’s.
“Do you think this is the way Sister Agnes escaped from St. Cuthbert’s when she took me away as a babe?”
“It could be.” Edmund held the torch in one hand and his sword in the other. He slashed another spiderweb in half so we could make our way without tangling in the silk. The low ceiling forced us to crouch and at times had narrowed so much we’d had to crawl. Edmund had been wise to leave our mounts behind in the secluded alcove at the beginning of the old mine.
“It is difficult for me to imagine Sister Agnes traversing these tunnels and rushing to get away from King Ethelwulf’s soldiers.” The old nun had always been big boned with broad shoulders and hips. As far back as I remembered, those joints had given her trouble, particularly when she walked for any length of time.
“Whatever route she took would have been hard for her,” Edmund said, slashing at another web. “Especially carrying a newborn babe.”
I stifled a yawn. My eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation kept my mind off how tired I was. Thankfully, Edmund was accustomed to my endless chatter and didn’t seem to tire of it. “I wonder why she never told anyone, not even the abbess, about my identity.”
“I suppose she decided the fewer people who knew, the safer you’d be.”
“But she could have told me before she passed away.” I’d spent hours at her bedside when she’d taken ill from an unexplained fever. Although I’d tried every remedy Sister Agnes had created and even new ones I’d devised, I hadn’t been able to save her.
A familiar heaviness settled around my heart. I blamed myself for her death. I should have been able to cure a fever. A fever without any other symptoms. What kind of physician was I that I couldn’t manage something so simple? Since that day, I’d vowed I would be an even better physician than Sister Agnes. I’d spend my life proving it if that’s how long it took.
Edmund ducked under a low doorway. “Sister Agnes knew if she told you, you’d run off and do what you’re doing now.”
“Search for treasure?”
“Get into trouble.”
I laughed.
Edmund smiled over his shoulder. “I’m serious.”
“We shall not get into trouble. I promise.”
“If I had a piece of silver for every time you’ve told me that, I’d be a rich man.”
“I am not at fault for the decision to roll in poison oak.”
“I suppose getting stuck up in the giant sequoia wasn’t your fault either?”
My thoughts flashed back to those carefree days as children when we’d played together and roamed as much of the Highlands as Wade would allow. “I shall take responsibility for the bees’ nest falling on Colette. I should have warned her to move out of the way before I cut it out of the tree.”
Edmund chuckled. “The only reason you take responsibility for it is because she reminds you of her bee stings whenever she’s upset at you.”
Colette had been covered with welts. Thankfully, Sister Agnes had concocted a salve of honey and witch hazel and applied it all over Colette’s little body. She’d been miserable for several days and had never forgotten it, much to my dismay.
Before I could defend myself further, Edmund stopped so abruptly I bumped into him. He reached a hand behind to steady me.
We’d come to a closed door in the tunnel.
“From here on, it’s a steep uphill climb,” he said.
“I can endure it.” Once again, excitement coursed through my veins. I was on a hunt for the ancient King Solomon’s treasure. What could be better?
We’d already discussed the best places to search. That had been the main topic of conversation during the dark, cold hours we’d ridden across the Highlands. We’d decided we needed to locate keyholes and try the key into every one. How hard could that be? But of course, the always logical Edmund had cautioned me against getting my hopes too high.
“The keyhole won’t be out in the open and easy to find,” he’d said. “It’s likely hidden in a special place having to do with the symbol on the key.”
We’d speculated on the various items represented by the tree of life and healing. Perhaps the secret place was located in a well or former apothecary or even the garden beds. We had to search everywhere as quickly as possible. I’d promised Edmund we’d be on our way by nightfall since I didn’t expect we’d need all day to find it.
When we reached the top of the steep incline leading to the former abbey, we had to climb several additional winding tunnels before we came into an abandoned mining drift. Continuing along, we eventually found ourselves in a wider room that contained a cold cistern of water fed by a spring cutting through the rocks. We refreshed ourselves there and let our breathing even out before moving onward and upward. I was grateful more than ever for Edmund guiding the way.
Even though he claimed to have been hunting in the eastern Iron Hills a time or two with Wade and was familiar with the area, I also knew Edmund had entire maps of Mercia committed to memory. Wade had required it of him during his training. At the time, I hadn’t understood the importance of it, but now I realized Edmund was a huge asset, and I needed him more than I realized.
By the time we surfaced into the ruins of the abbey, the winter sun was peeking from behind clouds, indicating that most of our morning was already gone. The crumbling walls and the remains of small rooms brought a lump to my throat at the realization I’d once been here with my sisters. It was the last place we’d been together, the last place we’d been a family.
“Soon,” I whispered into the cool air as I stepped into a tower room that overlooked Mercia’s Eastern Plains. “We shall be together again soon.”
Shrouded in the freshly fallen snow, the flat fields looked pristine and endlessly beautiful. To the west lay the Iron Cities of Everly, Middleton, and Stefford. The cities were set at the base of the Iron Hills, each upon a different branch of the Cress River. I could almost imagine I saw smoke rising into the air from the many smelters which took the raw iron from the mines and purified it into bars fit for making tools and weapons and household items.
If only I could walk among the cities one time, browse the busy markets, visit a smelter or forge, and step inside a cathedral.
I shook my head and rebuked myself for my wayward desires, certainly not the dreams of a young woman months away from taking her vows. In His Providence, God had chosen me—not my sisters—to go with Sister Agnes, to grow up in a convent, and to learn the physician’s skills. It was my work, my life, my purpose. I might have a slight detour while I looked for the treasure and took it to Norland. But I wouldn’t be swayed from my true calling to become a nun.
I turned away from the view and began scanning every inch of the tower room for a keyhole.
“Have you found anything?” Edmund’s voice broke into my inner chastisement.
“No, I have not found a single clue.”
“Likewise.” He crossed to the lookout window and gazed over the enormity of Mercia as I had just done.
“It is majestic, is it not?” I couldn’t stop myself from moving next to him and peering out again, hungry for another view of the beauty so different from the barren wilderness of the Highlands.
“It is.” His voice was wistful. Was he more eager to see the world beyond our convent than he’d admitted previously? Maybe accompanying me to Norland would give him a taste of adventure too.
“Thank you for coming with me.” I shifted and studied his profile; his angular jaw, long n
ose, and finely sculpted cheeks. A wayward strand of hair lay across his forehead. Before I realized what I was doing, I smoothed the piece back.
His hand captured mine so swiftly I started. When he brought my fingers to his lips and placed a kiss upon them, I drew in a quick breath. Over the edge of our hands, his green eyes were wide as they met mine. And they were filled with the same something that had been there yesterday, something that made me realize Edmund was all man and no longer a boy.
For a moment, time stood still. My heartbeat and my breathing ceased to function. Somehow I’d missed the fact that he’d grown up. Did that mean we couldn’t be friends in the same way anymore? What about when I became a nun? What about now that I was a princess?
I wouldn’t allow anything to get in the way of our friendship. Heaven forbid it.
Impetuously, I uncurled my fingers from his and cupped his cheek. “I want you to know that no matter what happens in the future, you will always be my friend.”
I waited for a smile, for light to spark in his eyes. But instead, he nodded and took a step back, breaking our connection. I sensed my answer disappointed him, but I wasn’t sure how.
“We need to keep looking.” He strode toward the tower door without a backward glance.
“Yes. Of course.”
Before I followed him, I turned to the view again, drinking it in one more time. Rather than marveling at the beauty, I could only feel the strange weight of Edmund’s disappointment.
We continued searching, moving aside debris and leaving no corner or crevice of the abbey untouched. When the afternoon began to wane, a sense of urgency prodded me.
“It is not here.” I released a long, loud yawn from where I perched on a lone stool—the only item left intact within what we guessed had once been the abbey’s apothecary.
Edmund’s face was lined with weariness. He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. I wasn’t ready to leave yet, but I’d promised him we’d go at dusk. Since he was clearly tired, I wouldn’t push him to stay, even though I wanted to keep looking until I found the treasure. I didn’t want to travel to Norland and meet my older sister without it. I’d be of no use to her. But neither would I break my word to Edmund.
“I guess we should go,” I said, although I was unable to keep the reluctance from my tone.
Edmund didn’t respond.
Forcing myself to rise, I walked over to him and stretched out a hand. “Come. Our horses are probably thinking we deserted them.”
Edmund rested his head a moment longer before sitting forward with a start, his eyes opening and lighting with a characteristic glimmer that told me the gears in his mind were spinning and sparking. “We’re looking in the wrong place.”
“I thought for certain ‘S.C. Abbey’ stood for St. Cuthbert’s.”
“It does. But since the clue was likely penned more than a century ago, we must look for the original St. Cuthbert’s, the one that would have been here when the clue was written, likely around the time of King Alfred the Peacemaker.”
I’d assumed the parchment we’d found inside the key was written by the people who brought the treasure to the Great Isle hundreds of years ago. But as usual Edmund was one step ahead of me. St. Cuthbert’s wouldn’t have existed during ancient days. It made more sense the piece of parchment inside the key was placed there in more recent times, perhaps by King Alfred.
King Alfred had been one of the greatest kings to rule the united realm of Bryttania among a long line of strong kings. At his death, King Alfred had split the country into two separate realms, giving one to each of his twin daughters. He’d bestowed Mercia upon Leandra and Warwick upon Margery. They both ruled peacefully until Queen Leandra died. Margery fought Leandra’s heir for the right to Mercia’s throne, claiming the whole kingdom of Bryttania belonged to her. Eventually, Margery lost the fight, only to have her grandson, King Ethelwulf, take up the conquest many years later.
Although I’d always listened to Sister Agnes’s tales of the history of the kings and queens that had once ruled, I’d never truly given her words much thought. Until now. Now I understood all that had happened was the history of my family. My history.
King Ethelwulf had come into Mercia and had attacked Delsworth, taking the peaceful and prosperous kingdom away from King Francis and Queen Dierdal. But he’d done more than that. He’d taken my father and mother, my older sister, and my twin.
He’d also taken away Edmund’s family. And Colette’s. From the tales I’d heard, he’d hurt countless people in his desire to create a united kingdom. Instead of making a stronger and greater nation with Warwick and Mercia as one country again, his cruelty had created only more darkness and despair throughout the land, and his steep taxes had drained the already stretched resources.
Of course, since I’d lived a sheltered and isolated life in the Highlands, I knew only the information Wade gleaned during his trips to town. His news was never good. He complained bitterly of the lawlessness that prevailed throughout the land along with the fear and hardships the people endured under the king’s policies.
If Queen Adelaide Constance took the throne, would the nuns finally feel safe again and come out of hiding? Perhaps people would seek out the convent for help and healing as they’d once done. Perhaps I would be able to bring wellness to many instead of to just a few.
Edmund reached for my hand and allowed me to help pull him to his feet. “We need to look down the hill. The original abbey was built closer to the mine.”
We retraced our steps the way we’d entered. As we descended, Edmund veered off into another tunnel, this one slightly taller than the others. Finally, we reached a dead end.
He tapped against the stone with the hilt of his sword until the resulting thump gave a hollow echo. “We’ll need to tear the wall down here.”
I wasn’t surprised when Edmund used his knife to dig through the mortar and pull the stones apart piece by piece. I attempted to aid him, but he worked with an efficiency and strength I couldn’t match no matter how hard I tried.
When the opening was big enough to crawl through, he went first with the torch and I followed.
“Watch out for the spiderwebs,” he cautioned as he ducked underneath one the size of a full-grown man.
Once inside, I sat back on my heels and looked around in amazement at the old convent that had been sealed off to the world. We’d apparently stumbled into the chapel, for against the far wall sat an altar fashioned from stone. The carvings on the front were covered by more cobwebs, but the detailed cross at the center was still visible.
On one side of the altar stood a tall stone holder that had probably held the Paschal candle. On the opposite side was a baptismal font made of stone, the basin cracked in half. Both were draped with spiderwebs so thick they could have been linen coverings.
Edmund stood and raised his dagger in a position of defense. “This place isn’t safe.” He sniffed the air and peered around the darkened room with narrowed eyes.
I got to my feet, ducking to avoid the webs hanging like drapes from the low ceiling. The air was damp and musty, and it contained a bitter odor I couldn’t name. Even so, I approached the altar. “Surely we can spare a few minutes of searching.”
Edmund stared intently at the passageway leading away from the chapel. “I think we should go.”
I pushed the thick strands from the altar and smoothed my hand over the stone, noting the beautiful carved pattern of vines intertwined with grapes that decorated the outer rim. An altar represented sacrifice to God, laying down one’s own plans and desires. Ultimately, it stood for death.
We needed to find something that symbolized life and healing. I turned first to the Paschal candle stand but stopped abruptly. If anything in this chapel embodied life, the baptismal font certainly did. What could signify new life and healing better than baptism?
Heedless of the webs snagging my veil, I crossed to the font. Like the altar, it was decorated
with intricate engravings. I traced my fingers across the dusty but smooth pattern of ivy leaves. And flower blossoms.
The signs of life.
My heart thudded with an extra beat. I skimmed the font, searching for a keyhole or anything the key might fit into.
“We need to go.” Edmund’s voice was low and urgent.
I wrapped my fingers around the back of the font. Scraping aside the web coating, I probed the cool stone of the pedestal and then the base that held the cracked basin.
There was nothing. No keyhole. Not even a dent.
Unwilling to give up yet, I dropped to my knees and brushed my hands across the dusty floor, then returned to the pedestal itself.
“Now, Maribel!” Edmund was backing slowly away from the passageway toward the opening we’d created.
My fingers flew over the raised florets surrounding the base. One wiggled as I touched it. I tugged, digging into the crevices. It fell away, and a moment later I made contact with a keyhole.
“I found it!” I fumbled at my leather pouch for the key.
At a strange hiss and clacking behind me, the hairs on the back of my neck rose, but I made myself focus on getting the key out, reaching behind the pedestal, and inserting it into the hole.
“Hurry!” Edmund called.
My fingers shook, and I couldn’t get the key in. “Calm down, Maribel,” I admonished myself as I took a deep breath and willed my hands to still. Again, I attempted to fit the key, and this time it slid in perfectly. When I twisted it, a soft pop told me it had worked.
The hissing and clacking grew louder, but I didn’t turn to the source. Instead, I fumbled at the back of the base. I couldn’t see anything, but my fingers connected with the part of the structure that had come loose, like a drawer. I tugged at it and was surprised when it slid out.
“Maribel!” Edmund shouted. “We’re out of time. We have to leave!”
I slipped my hand into the narrow space. It was lined in velvet, and a small rolled parchment lay inside. I’d expected to find a treasure, not another piece of paper. Nevertheless, I grabbed the scroll, patted around the bottom of the drawer to ensure I wasn’t leaving something important behind, then scrambled backward.