by Sarah Maine
“Will you be alright?”
He smiled at her. “Of course.” And then he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, and held her. “I’m very glad you’re here, Liberty Snow,” he murmured, and he tightened his hold before releasing her.
Chapter 30
Odrhan
The ship was already on the beach when the sound of voices roused Odrhan from his sleep and he crawled to the entrance of his dwelling and looked out. “Pádraig, wake up.” It was a larger ship than the one which had brought Ulla and Harald, and it carried six men, one of them a grey-haired giant. Odrhan turned swiftly back to the waking boy.
“Quickly. You must go! Keep low, along the beach. Don’t look back but run, as fast as you can, and carry a warning. Go!”
“And you?” The boy’s eyes were wide with fear.
“They will not harm me. Now go! God speed.” And he thrust the boy through the door and watched him scramble down the rocks to where the headland would shield him from view.
Quickly he dug a hole in the floor of his cell and buried the chalice there, stamping the surface flat. The rest of Harald’s treasure he had long since buried, close to the flat rock where now no one came.
Then he straightened, stood a moment watching them pull the ship higher, and went once more down to the shore.
Libby
The click of the caravan door woke her.
She glanced at her watch, six fifteen. She dressed rapidly, teeth chattering. By the time she had her boots on and had crawled to the door of her tent, Rodri was striding up the dewed path towards the garden. She caught up with him in the dark tunnel where the branches of the rhododendrons made a roof over their heads. “Wait!” she called, and he turned. “I’m coming with you.”
“I shan’t murder her, you know.”
Maybe not. “I’ll come along anyway,” she said. “Just in case.”
A smile briefly crossed his face; then he turned and carried on up the path, and she followed him.
Laila had bolted both the front and back doors but he told Libby to wait in the courtyard, and a moment later she heard him on the inside, drawing back the bolts. He smiled briefly at her expression. “Ways and means, m’dear, ways and means,” and she went after him down the passage to the kitchen.
He crossed to the Aga and bounced the palm of his hand on it to test the heat. “At least it’s still lit,” he said. “Fill the kettle, will you?” He went over to the fridge and began pulling out food. “I’m starved, I’ve not eaten since Oslo.” She realised that he was being deliberately noisy, opening cupboard doors and banging them shut. The sounds must have carried, for it was not long before they heard movement overhead, and moments later Laila appeared at the doorway, a dressing gown tied across her wide midriff. “You!” she exclaimed, in accents of loathing.
“In the flesh. Tea or coffee?”
She ignored him and glanced at Libby. “Why is she here?”
“She’s come for breakfast.”
Laila’s eyes flicked from one to the other, and Libby saw that she was looking dreadful, her complexion pasty white without makeup and her usually immaculate hair unkempt. She didn’t move from the doorway. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
“To hell and back.” He took a bite of thick bread and marmalade and chewed, contemplating her. “To Oslo, Laila, and at the Nordfjord clinic.”
It didn’t seem possible that Laila’s face could become any whiter. Rodri continued to chew, his jaws working and his eyes fixed on her. She stared back at him, and the kitchen was silent until the kettle began to boil.
“Give me my passport and my credit cards,” she said at last.
He reached into the chest pocket of his jacket and pulled out a single credit card, which he flicked onto the table. “The others are cancelled,” he said.
She moved then, coming into the room to confront him. “You have no right—”
“No. But Hector has. That one’s in your name alone, there’s sufficient on it for your immediate needs. All other accounts are frozen. Standard procedure in these circumstances.”
Libby saw Laila swallow hard, then recover, and hold out her hand. “Passport.”
Rodri got up and lifted the kettle from the Aga, filling two mugs. He shook his head. “Not yet. Not until I have Hector safely under this roof. Then you get your passport.”
Libby looked at him. He’d said nothing about Hector coming—
Laila too was stunned. “Hector? No—he is too ill to travel.”
“Arrangements have been made. He’ll arrive under medical escort today or tomorrow, and then a private ambulance will collect him from the airport.” Unwashed and unshaven, Rodri looked dangerous, and Libby suspected that he was only just in command of himself. But when he spoke again, it was with quiet authority. “Hector will die here, Laila, in his own home with his family around him. And he’ll spend the last weeks of his life getting to know his son, and making his peace with the lad’s mother, and grandfather. Then he’ll die with his conscience clear and his mind at rest, and we’ll bury him here, where he belongs.” His eyes were shining, perhaps with anger, but she sensed that some other, more painful passion threatened to overwhelm him.
Laila went on staring at him. “And me, Rodri? What about me?” Perhaps she sensed a weakness, a crack into which she might slide. “I too will be here with him.”
She had misjudged her man, and he turned away from her. “You think Hector wants that?”
“Hector loves me, Rodri,” she cried, then added in soft tones, “and once you loved me too.”
Rodri turned back and gave her a long look, saying nothing. Then: “Once, Laila, I thought you were the loveliest girl in the world,” he said at last. “But right now—” He glanced at Libby. “Libby came along this morning, I think, to stop me doing something stupid.”
Laila put a hand out to him. “Rodri, you’ve no idea how hard it was . . .”
He brushed it aside. “It was the worst day’s work I ever did, bringing you here, and I’ll never forgive myself. Maddy’s the sweetest girl on earth and her love might have saved Hector, and he’d have had David, his son . . .”
Laila latched on to the last point. “We tried and we tried, Rodri, but nothing worked,” and she turned to Libby as if in appeal, and Libby felt a sort of compassion for her. “After his injury, Hector could not—”
Rodri’s voice came back like a whip. “God, Laila! You think I don’t know? I’ve spoken to Hector.” She stopped, and the mask of entreaty slipped to reveal a very different look. Rodri saw it too. “Quite,” he remarked, and Libby sensed a quickening danger.
There was something else.
They remained locked in some private communication for a moment; then Laila snatched the credit card from the table, turned without a word, and left. Libby heard her go upstairs and cross the gallery, and a door slammed shut.
Rodri stared at the place where she had been, then turned back to Libby and gestured to her mug. “That’ll be going cold, you know.”
Then Alice arrived.
“You’re back,” she said, looking from Rodri to Libby.
Rodri filled her in with the pertinent facts, and she listened, lips parted. “So she’s not pregnant,” he concluded, “and she’s not going anywhere, as I’ve still got her passport. We’re stuck with her for now, but once I have Hector’s say-so, she’s on her way.”
Alice closed her mouth. “Right,” she said.
“Someone in the clinic is going to ring me when they know which flight he’s on, and we’ll go from there. Today or tomorrow, they said. There’s a private ambulance on standby in Glasgow, and I’ll go and meet the plane, and escort them back here.” He paused, and gave Alice a concerned look. “I’ll talk to Maddy and explain matters, and see how she wants to handle things with David. It’ll be hard for everyone, but for Hector’s sake—” Emotion cracked his voice at last and the mask crumbled. “Oh God, Alice, you should see him! He’s a dead man walking.” And
Alice went to him.
Libby got to her feet, sensing that the crisis here was passing, and needing to get back to camp. Alice had her feet on the ground, and was skilled at healing wounds. “I’ll go,” she said. Rodri straightened as Alice released him, looked across at her, and nodded.
There was, in fact, no time to dwell on these events, for as soon as she emerged from the garden gate she heard a whistle and saw Callum, out on the headland, signalling to her. Most of the students seemed to have gathered there. She crossed the dunes and walked out towards them.
Declan had arrived and was crouched down beside the opening to Odrhan’s cell. She’d forgotten Declan again. “Come and take a look,” Callum called. And she hadn’t told Rodri that he was here.
The students had cleared the fallen stones from the centre of the structure, piling them to one side, revealing it to have been roughly rectangular in outline with rounded corners. An ancient, tiny hermitage, a retreat from the perils of the world. And Declan was there in their midst, examining what might once have been a beaten-earth floor. The students parted as she arrived, and she saw a shallow irregular depression about a metre and a half long which had been cut into the floor; and there, in the centre of the hollow, they had exposed the top of a wooden box. Declan looked up briefly.
“It looks old, but not that old,” Callum said, and she nodded. It was a simple construction, no fancy joints, just planks screwed in place at right angles, and then a lid.
“Screws,” she said, looking down.
“Screws,” agreed Declan. So not ancient, and her mind went back to the drawings she had seen in Rodri’s dining room, and to the neat hand which had annotated the drawings. O.D. There had to be a connection.
The rest of the students were crowding round. “Ooh, buried treasure!”
“Can we just divvy it up and keep quiet?”
Libby cut through the banter. “Has it been photographed in situ?” she asked.
“About to do that,” said Declan, straightening. “Then we’ll plan it and lift it.”
“Is it strong enough, do you think?” she said.
He shrugged. “If it begins to break up, we’ll stop.”
“We ought to ask Rodri Sturrock before we open it.”
“I was about to go up to the house to ask Lady Sturrock. She’s up and doing, I presume, and finished breakfast? Kedgeree and silver teapots, was it?” One of the girls giggled.
“Actually, this might not be a great time . . .”
He ignored her. “Callum, sort out the planning and photography, will you. I’m heading up to the big house to crave an audience. Don’t lift it until I get back.”
He set off through the campsite, and Libby went after him. “Declan, listen—”
He strode on to where he had parked his car beside hers, ignoring her, and they were just in time to see the Land Rover start up from beside the manse and turn in a wide circle. It came to a halt beside them, and Rodri lowered the window. “Morning, Professor,” he said.
Declan was caught off-guard. “I thought you were away,” he said.
Rodri raised an eyebrow. “Did you? And I didn’t know you’d arrived, so this is a pleasant surprise for us both. But I’m afraid I’m just off again. I’ll be back this evening, though, so I’ll look forward to hearing how everything is going.”
“Splendid. And I was just going to introduce myself to Lady Sturrock, so I’ll report to her instead.” Declan gave him a wide smile.
“I wouldn’t . . .”
“Then she can brief her husband directly,” Declan continued, “cut through the red tape, so to speak.”
Rodri smiled back in a way that ought to have warned Declan. “I need, it appears, to remind you—”
Libby interrupted hastily. “We found a box, buried out on the headland, in the floor of Odrhan’s cell.”
“What sort of box?”
“Old but not ancient. Should we wait until you’re back before opening it?”
Declan said something under his breath, and Rodri glanced at him. “No harm in opening it, I don’t suppose. What’s your view, Professor?”
“I was about to ask Lady Sturrock’s permission to do so.”
“Right. Well, have mine instead. And just to be clear on this, it’s my agreement that counts here, not hers. I’m off just now to collect my brother from the airport, and from then on it’s his. Still not hers. Got that? He’s not a well man, though, so he won’t want to be troubled right now. I’m sure you understand.”
He nodded briefly at Libby, let out the clutch, and the Land Rover skidded away and up the track. Declan watched it go, then turned on his heel and went back towards the headland.
He was already giving instructions to lift the box by the time Libby got there.
“Callum, how strong do you think—” she began.
“Leave it to us, thanks, Libby,” Declan interrupted, but Callum remained loyal.
“I thought we could slide it onto a sheet of plastic first. One or two planks have warped and sprung, so it might collapse.”
This was achieved readily enough, and between them Declan and Callum lifted the box and laid it on the turf. “There’s something in it,” said Callum as they lowered it, “but it’s not really heavy—”
“So! Let’s open it,” Declan said.
Callum glanced at Libby. “The hinges are rusty. They might break.”
“Just do it,” said Declan.
Callum straightened. “Over to you, Prof.”
Declan held his look for a moment, then crouched and slid his trowel under the lid and lifted it. The hinges resisted a moment and then one snapped, and the other went as he lifted it higher. A groan of disappointment went round the students.
No treasure but charnel, human charnel.
“More old bones!” said one of them.
Libby and Callum crouched down to examine them. Long bones, ribs, pelvic bones.
And a skull.
Chapter 31
Libby
Declan did not go up to the house after all, but made his excuses and left soon after, tight-lipped and silent. Libby watched him go, conscious that any successes reported back would be his, and any failures hers, and nothing would change that. And as his car disappeared up the track, she put him out of her mind and began mentally ticking off the remaining tasks. The mound was done, planned, drawn and photographed; there was little more to do at the headland, and the students were now replacing the stones they had moved. The survey of the bay was almost complete, just a few more data checks to be done, leaving only the building recording to be finished off. And then they would go.
But her connection with Ullaness was not yet done, that much she knew. There were things which needed time to play out, but she felt bound here in a different way. And this bond was part of the present, not the past.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. The sound of an engine signalled school pickup time and she glimpsed Alice’s car turning onto the track. That time already! And she called for tea break. Life here had its familiar rhythms and she’d got used to them.
When tea break came to an end, she followed the students as they trooped back to work, forcing herself to focus on the tasks in hand. Then she heard her name being called, and saw Alice flying down the path towards her.
Libby went to meet her. “She’s taken my car!” Alice said, arriving breathless and gasping.
“I saw it go! I thought it was you.”
Alice shook her head, gulping air. “She waited until I had the hoover on, then took my keys and wallet, and drove off. Cool as you like!”
Retaliation. “But where’s she going? Rodri has her passport. Unless she found it—”
Alice shook her head again. “He’s got it on him. He told me. And I’ve got to pick up the kids. Angus and Maddy were going to take Jennet out for the day and I can’t reach them. No signal. I hate to ask, but will you drive me to school to get them, then run us home?”
“Of course.”<
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Alice continued to fume as they jolted up the track a moment later in Libby’s car. “The woman’s mad! I’d tell the police except it’ll just make matters worse for Rodri.” She drummed her fingers on the door. “She’ll not get far, though. There’s only a fiver in my wallet.”
“Did you stop the cards?”
“No, but I will, soon as I get home. We’ll be late at school as it is.”
“Where on earth is she headed?”
“Glasgow maybe, to catch them at the airport.”
“Well, that’ll go well!”
The playground was empty when they arrived. “They’ll have taken them back in to do homework. I’m sometimes late.” Alice went quickly into the school building while Libby stayed put and lowered the window. A moment later she saw the door flung open again and Alice rushed out, accompanied by a woman.
No boys.
With a sense of foreboding, Libby went to meet them. “Laila’s taken them,” said Alice, her face ashen. “Morag said she came early, before school finished.”
Libby stared back at her.
The woman was looking bewildered. “There was a special family event, she told me. Sir Hector’s homecoming—and she was in your car. I didn’t think anything—”
Libby remembered the expression on Rodri’s face last night, and felt a stab of fear. “Call the police,” she said, “you must.”
“The police?” The teacher looked to Alice.
Alice nodded. “Aye, she’s right.” She rummaged in her handbag. “Tell them she’s in my car and that she might mean them harm.”
“Surely not—”
“Really, Morag, do it! You’ve no idea— Come on, Libby, we need to find Angus.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper, thrusting it at the teacher. “That’s my reg. Pale blue Polo. Rusting. Go!” She pushed the woman in the direction of the school and got back in the car.