Flame

by May McGoldrick

  “Nay, I can think of no reason at all, now that you mention it!” Athol drained his cup. “And when is it that you would like this merry expedition to take place?”

  “Today,” Gavin said with conviction. “This morning. Finish your food, m’lord earl, and we can start.”

  ***

  One quick look at her meager possessions and Joanna felt her heart leap with alarm in her chest. She crouched low, her eyes peering into the darkness beyond the little circle of light around her. Someone had been here; there could be no mistaking the signs. Her cloak and the ragged shift no longer lay where she had left them, folded and tucked beneath her little nest of straw. Someone had looked them over and shoved them back under the makeshift bed, and Joanna’s blood ran cold.

  The cavern beyond the low overhang was silent and still. Getting down on her hands and knees--the lamp in hand--she peered at the surface of the ground leading out of the little hollow until she found the footprints of the intruder. Boots. A large man’s boots.

  Giving her cloak one quick shake, Joanna hastily threw it around her shoulders and tied it at her throat. Well, as far as finding out who had gone through her belongings, there was not much she could do about it now. But there was something that she was certain of. Whoever had been here would be back.

  Picking up the flint and putting whatever else she could into the deep pockets of her cloak, Joanna turned and gave her temporary quarters one last look. Once again--and so soon, it seemed--her shelter was being taken from her.

  Once again, she thought wearily, it was time to go deeper into the darkness of these caverns to find yet another place of safety. But first, she had to go to the crypt. With so few days left until the full moon, she still had much to do to be ready.

  Joanna moved hurriedly along the edge of the loch, but as she went, she did not see the shadow that flitted along the far wall, following her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Gavin knew he must be out of his mind to be touring the tunnels and caverns beneath Ironcross without having warned Joanna first. But then, Athol’s candid acknowledgment, and then his surprising willingness to serve as guide, had compelled the warrior chief to hammer away while the metal glowed hot. He could not hold back from putting Athol to the test.

  Gavin knew, of course, that he must be alert and make enough noise to warn Joanna of their approach. Before leaving his chamber this morning, he had at least forced her to tell him that she had fixed a secure place by the underground loch. And from all that she’d said to make him feel comfortable about letting her go, Gavin had gotten a better sense of the extent and the complexity of these caverns and the maze of tunnels. Furthermore, she had sworn to him that there was no way anyone could approach her without her being aware of it long before they should happen upon her.

  Raising the torch he carried high in the air as he followed a step behind the Highlander, Gavin hoped that she had been telling him the truth.

  Hours ago, after letting all of their people know of their intent, the two leaders had moved quickly through the kitchens, past the questioning faces of the cook and her helpers, and down the stone steps behind the great hearth. This, apparently, was the only way Athol knew into the caverns from the keep itself, or at least so he had claimed.

  The tunnels were indeed as confusing and maze-like as both the steward and Joanna had described. Low and narrow passages opened suddenly into huge caverns, with the entry of the two men rousing a thousand sleeping bats that had been roosting far above the flaring torches. Underground streams suddenly appeared beside a dry passage, gurgling and splashing along smooth walls, only to branch off and then disappear just as suddenly. And as if the sharp turns and endless series of carved steps--some leading up blind passages--were not enough, it seemed that every few moments they were passing sealed doors of ironbound oak.

  Gavin tried to mark in his memory distinguishing points that they were passing, but soon the rock patterns and the twisting passages all began to blend together in a blurry melange of stone and dampness. And though Athol kept up a running commentary on the crystal formations of a particular cavern or the bottomless quality of some fissure that they were traversing, there were times, Gavin thought, when even his guide had become confused. One of those times happened when Gavin had asked him to bring them beneath the south wing, for the purpose of finding the way up to the passageways leading to the South Hall. Gavin was quite curious about the path that Joanna had taken when she had repeatedly stolen her own portrait, but instead they ended up standing on a ledge beneath an overhang, watching the wind driven rain sweep across the broad loch. Gavin knew immediately that the walls surrounding the south wing were high above them.

  After a quick glance at the breathtaking view, as well as at the sharp drop of cliffs beyond the ledge, Gavin turned to find the Highlander’s gaze on him.

  “Since arriving at Ironcross Castle,” Athol began, his gray eyes intent on Gavin’s face. “Has there been any time that you have thought your life might be in danger? I mean, have there been any attempts on your life?”

  “What makes you ask such a thing?”

  Athol frowned and turned his gaze out over the storm swept loch. “Somehow, I had gotten a sense that in dealing with you, I would do best to approach you bluntly, honestly. Quite unlike so many of the good nobles spread around the Lowland countryside, you struck me as one who wastes no words in his dealings with others.”

  Gavin nodded at the other man’s obvious compliment. “Some think so. But what makes you think I have anything to fear in my own keep?”

  “The fire in your chamber the other night,” Athol returned. “You did not survive at Flodden Field, or in the service of the king abroad, just to perish in your own bedchamber from an act of carelessness.” He then turned and looked sharply into Gavin’s face. “I know you to be a man of strength and courage, but I am certain you are not a careless man.”

  “Nay,” the warrior replied. “That I am not.”

  “And then, there is the matter of this castle’s past. After the incident last fall, I am more convinced than ever that the danger that seems to be stalking Ironcross’s lairds is more than just a hoax.”

  “So you believe that the fire that destroyed the south wing was started intentionally?”

  Athol nodded and then raised a brow questioningly. “Aye, I do. Do you have any doubt of it?”

  Gavin frowned, unwilling to reveal his thoughts at this time. At least, as long as he considered this Highlander a possible force behind the evil of that night.

  “Go on,” Gavin paused, looking keenly into his guide’s face. “Was this something that you suspected from the moment that the tragedy struck down those unsuspecting souls, or is this a recent conclusion?”

  “I like to be forthright in my actions and in my words, no matter how condemning they might seem.”

  “So you have said.” Gavin nodded.

  “I knew the moment I walked into what remained of that wing that someone intent on murder started that fire.”

  Gavin stroked his chin and leaned his back against the damp stone wall at the mouth of the cave. “What did you see that made you so certain?”

  John Stewart stepped away from the ledge and leaned his back as well against the opposing wall. “Going through the charred rooms, I could see that the fire had started not in one place but many. Every panel into the passageways--every panel that I knew about, anyway--was scorched, while other parts of the same room where hardly burned. I believe those fires were set deliberately to keep those in the south wing from escaping.” Athol’s brow was furrowed and he stared out at the loch as he continued. “John MacInnes knew his way through these caverns as well as anyone alive. ‘Twas he who, so many years ago, first brought me down here. Now, for him and his family to die in that wing and not use the passages after finding the door to the Old Keep barred...”

  “What do you mean, ‘barred’?”

  “The door that led to the corridor over the archway,” Athol replied,
surprised by Gavin’s response. “The way was barred!”

  The new laird stared at the earl.

  Athol nodded as he continued. “I was the one, in fact, who removed the bar, but then by the time we opened the door, the wing was ablaze and the smoke so thick you could not enter. By the time sections of roof began to give way, letting in the rain, charred bodies were all that remained. If it hadn’t been for the downpours that continued into the next morning, I don’t believe any of the south wing would be standing today.”

  “Why did you leave Ironcross so soon, Athol? Since you were so certain of foul play, why did you not stay longer and find the ones responsible?”

  Angrily, the Highlander slapped his hand against the rock wall and turned to face the loch. “I was left with little choice. The steward, Allan, treated me as if I were the one guilty of the crime. Not even had they carried the bodies out of the ruin, before he started talking about sealing the place off and waiting for Lady MacInnes to come north. He would not even take inventory of what was left.”

  “Was there a reason why the steward would have suspected you?”

  “Nay!” Athol scoffed. “Other than the fact that John and I had argued that night, there was naught to make the man even think of me. By the devil, John MacInnes was like an older brother to me! There was no bad blood between us. But to think of these people suspecting me--of all people! And any one of them could have done it with less feeling than slaughtering a sheep. There was certainly no affection in these people for their laird. In fact,” Athol said as he paused and turned to Gavin, “in his own quiet way, John had started a buzzing in their nests. I do not know that there was a great deal of sadness at his death. There was certainly no surprise.”

  “So you left!” he said gruffly.

  “What difference did it make? Indirectly, my honor was being called into question by the damned steward, and my temper was growing shorter each moment I remained. I considered seizing the castle and forcing all under my control, but decided that would be counterproductive at best--and make me look even more guilty, taken together with the argument between John and myself. I was left with no other choice but to leave.”

  “Still, believing these murders had been committed and knowing yourself to be the only one capable of bringing justice in the wake of it all, you still left.”

  At the sound of Gavin’s words and accusing tone, the earl’s brow darkened. He straightened from where he stood and glared across the way. “I might have left Ironcross Castle, but I did not give up my search for the truth. Seeing how quickly these people had steeled themselves against me, I thought it best to give the killer a false sense of security.”

  “But just how were you to find out the truth when you sat a day’s ride away in Balvenie Castle?” When Athol hesitated to answer, Gavin looked suspiciously at his guest. Of course, he thought. He had been blind not to think of it before now. “You left behind spies.”

  Athol nodded. “It seemed like a good plan...then.”

  “Well? Did they come back to you with any information of value?”

  “Nay.” Athol shook his head. “Originally, I was paying two men here. But one of them, the more cunning of the two, died shortly after I left. From what I could gather, the man’s skull was crushed by a falling rock.”

  “A rock?”

  “Aye. He was walking through the gorge to the south of the keep.”

  “What about the other one? Dead as well?”

  “Nay, he is alive and well!” Athol said coolly. “But I do not know if ‘twas the fear from finding his accomplice dead, but he has been little use to me for the past six months.”

  Gavin stood away from the wall and looked into the other man’s face. “Who is your spy?”

  “Before you think of how to punish the man,” Athol said, turning and peering into the darkness of the cave. “You must remember that at the time when he accepted the task, there were no lairds sitting at Ironcross Castle. If not the brightest of lads, he is a good one, and...”

  “I’ll not punish him. I do not even question your arrangement with the lad,” Gavin said with finality, stepping up to the Highlander. “Considering the aftermath of that fire, I believe you did right. I might have done the same, were I in your position.”

  Athol clapped Gavin on the back of the shoulder. “For a Lowlander, you are an extremely understanding man.”

  “Get your paw off my back,” the laird growled. Upon seeing the look of relief on Athol’s face as his guest withdrew his hand, Gavin repeated his earlier question. “Who is your man? I’ll not injure the lad, but I must know who your spy is.”

  Athol considered for a moment and then, nodding meaningfully at the darkness of the cave before them, turned and spoke the lad’s name.

  CHAPTER 20

  Margaret’s hands grabbed at her own throat, strangling the anguished cry that was trying to escape her, as she watched the long blade of the dirk arc viciously through the air and rip into David’s back.

  The stable lad’s head twisted about in an unnatural way as he tried to look back at his attacker, but the sharp ledge of the chasm, only a step away, was all he would ever see.

  Pressing her back rigidly against the ice cold walls of the cave, Margaret watched in mute horror as cold, sure hands reached out and pushed David hard over the edge.

  Margaret shut her eyes, trying to block out the vision of the flailing arms of the stable lad as he went over.

  If only I were blind, she prayed, sobbing. Oh Blessed Virgin, strike me blind.

  Margaret sank to the ground, her eyes closed, but she could not shut out the sickening sound of the young man’s crunching fall deep into the bowels of the earth.

  And sitting there, stunned and alone, she could not shut out the sight of the bloody dirk in the hand of one whom she loved.

  In the hand of a killer.

  ***

  “I want you to know you are a complete failure as a guide, Athol! In fact, I am beginning to think you are either a liar or a thick-headed oaf.”

  Flushing crimson, the earl glared menacingly over his shoulder at Gavin. “Simply because I cannot find one damn panel, you have to attack my character!”

  “Aye!” Gavin pushed the man aside and moved in next to him. The two of them stared at the open space of what was once John MacInnes’s study. “There is no way anyone can come through this panel and make their way to the hearth. By Saint Andrew, I found this panel by myself the second day I was here! There must be another passage that opens up next to that chimney.”

  “Well, I know of no other,” Athol growled.

  “That’s the first admission of ignorance you have made today. There may be hope for you yet.”

  “Nay, I take back what I said. There is no passage up there.”

  “You’re wrong. There is,” Gavin snapped. “This is your thick-headedness coming through again. You might as well just admit defeat.”

  “I’ll not!” Athol turned angrily into the passageway they’d just left. “By His Bones, I swear I’ll find the damned passage.”

  “Not today,” the laird said wearily, following the other man through the darkness to a creaking old ladder. “There is something else that may be far more valuable. Something that might add useful facts to the fairly worthless information you have gathered so far.”

  “You are a miserable, gruff, ill-mannered dog of a villain...even for a Lowlander!”

  “Aye. All of those things.” Gavin slapped him hard on the back. “But an understanding one. You told me so yourself!”

  Athol turned and glowered at him. “Which side of hell do you want me to take you to now?”

  “Not hell, blackguard. The crypt!”

  “In the kirkyard?”

  “Nay! Och, you’re a dung-headed fool. The one beneath this keep.”

  Athol frowned, suddenly putting aside all interest in their verbal parrying. “Why in the devil’s name do you want to see that place?”

  Gavin picked up the wick lamp t
hat they’d hung on the wall and looked back at his guide. “How long has it been since you have been there?”

  “By the devil, I’ve never gone there!” the Highlander blurted. “Even as young lads, we always were sure to stay clear of those vaults...and that part of the caverns.”

  “Are you telling me you are afraid of the place?”

  The earl considered for a moment before answering. “What you don’t understand, you stay away from. Even as lads, we had that much sense. We knew that vault had only women buried within it. Only women went there, and it has always had an air of...I don’t know...unwelcome is the only way to express it.

  Gavin frowned. “Has anything ever happened to a man for going in there? Or is all of this, again, just a part of this nonsense about the curse?”

  Athol shook his head. “I don’t know, Gavin. Although there were always tales of painful deaths suffered by those foolhardy enough to trespass, I myself never knew of anyone who tried.” He shrugged his shoulders in acceptance. “The fact that John MacInnes would never go in there himself was reason enough for me to stay clear of the place.”

  “So then, my good lord earl, this day has been a complete waste?” Gavin challenged. “Now that you have failed to show me the way from my chamber to the south wing , you are telling me that you cannot even find your way to the crypts?”

  “Nay, my wee, dainty bull. I can take you, nuisance though you are,” Athol retorted in response.

  “The same way that you took me to the panel beside the hearth?”

  The Highlander glared threateningly before turning and starting down the passageway. “All we need to do is head east...which would be this way. From what I remember, any one of these tunnels should take us in that direction.”

  “East!” Gavin muttered disgustedly as he fell in beside the man. “Well, at least when we reach Jerusalem, I’ll know we’ve gone too far.”