Both men shrugged, the plumber tapping another section of the plan. “See? If we can fish the pipes through the cellar somehow here, then we can hook up exactly as we would have if the tank had gone in the original location.”
“That old wall is a thick sucker,” the inspector observed.
“There has to be another way,” Baird said and the trio settled over the plans to work out their strategy.
*
Aurelia did not find the dungeons as easily as she had hoped. Once she could have walked there blindfolded, but now all had been changed around so thoroughly by Bard’s workmen, that she quickly became disoriented.
Her father’s hall had been a simple wooden structure in the style of the Vikings, a long rectangular hall with a sloping roof and tables along its walls. It had been destroyed, as Aurelia had noted earlier, though not a single mark remained to hint at its precise location.
At least the ritual well was more or less as it had been. Aurelia started there.
The stone structure that Bard made his hall was new to Aurelia, though parts of it looked markedly aged. She suspected the stones had come from elsewhere, perhaps from the ancient crumbling towers on the horizon.
But roughly where Bard’s hall stood, there had been an old settlement, long fallen into decay. A tumbling central tower had dominated a circle of clover shaped homes, which Aurelia recalled had been waist-deep in the turf. Certainly they had been too far gone to repair and she was not surprised that Bard had eliminated them.
Indeed, though she would never tell him as much, his hall vastly improved the appearance of Dunhelm. Aurelia would never have expected a barbarian to have such an aesthetic sense, but then there was much about Bard that surprised her.
She refused to think about that now.
Beneath the tower that no longer stood sentinel over the squarish peninsula of Dunhelm, there had been deep pits. A curved staircase followed the outer wall of the tower, descending to a small anteroom from which the pits could be reached. Once undoubtedly cellars, they had been converted to dungeons by Bard’s own sire, Erc.
The only problem was that without the landmark of the tower, Aurelia was not certain precisely where they should be.
After a good amount of fruitless searching, she conceded defeat and resolved to circle the peninsula before the daylight was gone. She might well find the bodies of fallen warriors or some hint of what had transpired in the attack.
Maybe a survivor willing to share a tale. Or see another angle of the land that would reveal the location of the dungeons.
Aurelia’s spirits were high when she began, but quickly faded. The peninsula of Dunhelm was not a small one and she had a good bit of ground to cover. That added to her determination to walk close to the edge of the cliffs - all the better to see the bodies cast below - made the walking difficult.
But she saw nothing other than myriad birds nesting on the rocks that fell to the sea. Aurelia was convinced every curve would reveal a horror to her eyes, but as the day passed and nothing suspicious came to sight, she began to tire.
Aurelia walked until the sun was lowering toward the sea, her view filled with rocks, birds and the occasional seal.
What had happened to everyone? The dungeons, even if she managed to find them, could never have accommodated hundreds of men. And how could Dunhelm have been captured without a resounding battle?
Even if the carnage had been cast into the sea, Aurelia knew full well that the sea returned such gifts in short order. But the beaches, far below, were barren.
Aurelia stared back at Bard’s hall, distant calls of the workmen carrying to her ears. Could it be that Bard had let her father’s men all go free?
It defied good sense! And she had seen well enough that he was a man with a logical mind.
Perhaps the warriors had been shipped off to some foreign estate, perhaps they toiled in whatever outpost the son of Erc had made his own, perhaps they had been shipped off to be sold as slaves in the markets of Micklegarth.
Such an expense. Aurelia winced, not certain it would be worth the trouble.
No, some must be here in the dungeons. Why else would those dungeons have been so artfully concealed? Aurelia stalked back toward the hall, determined to find those dank and dour cells.
She found them in a rather different way than she had expected.
*
Aurelia was marching resolutely across the lawn behind the hall when the ground suddenly gave way beneath her feet.
She screamed and scrambled for a grip as the earth fell away, taking her with it. Aurelia fought against falling into the gaping hole opened in the earth, even knowing it was hopeless.
She dropped a good thirty feet before she landed on her buttocks with a solid thump. Dirt showered around her and a chunk of turf landed heavily beside her foot.
The sounds of the world seemed distant and muffled in the eerie silence that surrounded Aurelia. Far above her, the hammering and shouting of the construction continued undisturbed.
No one had heard her scream.
Aurelia tried again, just to be sure, but there was no response. She winced and moved slightly, knowing that she would have an enormous bruise in short order.
Aurelia reached out and touched a damp stone wall. She called a greeting, but the words echoed through the stone and came forlornly back to her.
She had found the dungeons all right, but there was no contingent of warriors wasting away in these forgotten shadows.
She was alone. Aurelia bellowed again, but with no discernible effect. She was alone and evidently destined to stay that way.
Well, she was not going to sit back and wait to be rescued! Aurelia pushed to her feet, determined to explore her prison thoroughly.
She stared into the darkness surrounding her as she tried to remember exactly how the dungeons had been laid out. There were half a dozen cells, as she recalled. She might find some sign of her father’s warriors, though her heart doubted they had ever been here.
The dungeons, after all, smelled dead and unused.
Aurelia folded her arms across her chest, already feeling the chill of the coming night, and set to exploring. What had happened after she pricked her thumb?
What if her father had seen his forces so outnumbered that he surrendered himself to Bard rather than see his men slaughtered?
What if Bard, having won what he saw as his due, had been persuaded to let her father’s men leave Dunhelm freely?
There would be neither bodies nor prisoners, then.
But, of course, there would be a legion of men not particularly well disposed to the new upstart king.
Unless Julian’s plan succeeded. Their marriage would ensure that all those formerly loyal to her sire would turn their loyalty to Bard. And when her escaped father returned to reclaim what he had lost, his own men would be pledged against him.
Despicable! Fortunately, Aurelia had deduced the truth. Bard would fool her no longer with his lingering glances and little smiles! She would teach Bard son of Erc that she was not a woman with whom he could trifle.
Although a more pressing issue in this moment was how Aurelia was going to get out of the old dungeons.
*
Baird was dead on his feet by eight o’clock that night. He ached from stooping and scrambling through the nether regions of the bishop’s palace. He had bumped his head and scraped his knee, missed his dinner and wished heartily that he hadn’t let Aurelia eat his lunch.
But the fourth septic tank was secured in its new home and ready to accept donations.
Now, all Baird wanted was to sleep. He made his way through the silent hotel, permitting himself a thrill of pride at how it was all slowly coming together, and climbed the stairs to his room.
What they needed was an elevator in this place.
*
Talorc’s book taunted Baird from the end table when he climbed into bed. Baird didn’t remember bringing it upstairs, but he found himself reaching for it without hesitation.<
br />
It fell open where he had been reading before.
The most obvious and enduring legacy of the Picts, of course, is the vast number of standing symbol stones left scattered all across Scotland. These stones are carved with heavy relief and mounted at great effort to stand on their ends. There is remarkable repetition in the range of symbols employed on these stones, though no script on the stones or Pictish documents survive elsewhere to explain their import.
There is considerable controversy as to whether these stones are territorial boundaries, memorials to the dead, announcements of treaties and alliances, or whether they mean something entirely different and as yet undetermined.
Baird glanced to the photograph at the bottom of the page and his heart lunged into his chest. The symbol stone was just like the door to the well!
Well, not exactly. A closer look revealed that there were common elements - the crescent, for example - but that this stone was slightly different.
Still, it was weird how closely the two resembled each other and how neatly this dovetailed with Aurelia’s story. Baird glanced at a map on the next page which marked every Pictish stone in Scotland with a dot and was reassured. There were hundreds of the damn things!
And it didn’t mean that the slab in the well had been there since the time of the Picts. One thing that struck Baird about Europe was that people reused every little thing, artifact or otherwise. If that stone was laying around here just when someone wanted to make a stone door, they would have thought nothing of using it.
The carved slab in the well could have originally been anywhere within a couple of miles.
Although that wouldn’t explain why the woman carved on it was dressed exactly as Aurelia had been. She certainly couldn’t have moved it there herself, even if it had cohered perfectly with the story she had concocted.
Baird’s gaze lifted of its own accord to the mysterious shadows lurking far beyond his window, shadows that marked the stairs descending into the well. Instead of solving a mystery when he laid those stairs bare to the sunlight, Baird had opened a nest of enigmas.
All centered around Aurelia.
Maybe that stone wasn’t as much like her as he recalled. Suddenly, Baird’s exhaustion slipped away. He had to go and see the stone again, right now.
A walk, after all, would do him good.
*
Aurelia was cold and cramped, damp and irritable by the time she heard the faint crunch of footsteps overhead.
Someone to help her!
She screamed as loud as she could and barely dared to breathe until she heard the steps hurry in her direction. The arc of a light cut through the night, and she blinked as it shone directly on her.
“What in the hell are you doing down there?” Bard demanded and Aurelia’s heart sank.
Trust him to be the one to find her!
“I fell,” she admitted irritably.
“So I see.” The light flicked away and Aurelia could see Bard crouched on the edge, his elbows braced on his knees. That wry smile was tugging at the corner of his lips and her defiance melted just a little.
Oh, the cursed man fairly oozed with charm!
“So, are you naturally this much trouble, princess, or do you have to work at it?”
Trust him to find it amusing that she was trapped here! Why, it probably suited Bard well to see her in such foul circumstance!
“You may find this humorous, but I do not!”
He openly considered the depth of the pit she had fallen into, then looked back to her with a heart-wrenching grin. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute, because you sure are a lot of trouble.”
There was a charge that hit too close to home. Such belittling compliments had been the reason Aurelia learned to fire the crossbow. “I am not cute!” she cried. “I am a warrior!”
“A regular Amazon,” Bard agreed easily and she knew he was mocking her even without understanding the reference. “My seventh foster mother would have said you were in a fine pickle, princess. Seems your warrior skills aren’t getting you out of it.”
Bard might be in a teasing mood, but Aurelia’s sense of humor had been chilled out of her hours before. “Seventh foster mother? No one has that many foster mothers!”
“Wrong, princess.” His expression turned grim again. “I had fourteen. And foster fathers to match.”
“What need had you of so many?”
Bard’s lips thinned. “I didn’t need any of them,” he said tightly. “Just like they didn’t need me.” He pushed to his feet and cleared his throat. “Now, do you want some help?”
As much as it galled Aurelia to accept his assistance, there was no other means of escape. “Yes, please.” She wrapped her arms around herself and felt a shudder ripple through her, despite her determination to appear strong.
“Then, let’s get you out of there.” He straightened and Aurelia hated how she admired the lean strength of his legs. He was back with a rope in short order.
And when the warm grip of his hand finally closed over her own, Aurelia hated that she felt safe and secure once more. She could not help but shiver at the contrast between her cool flesh and his warmth.
It could be no more than that.
Bard’s voice dropped and his gaze sharpened. “Your hands are freezing, princess! How long have you been down there?” The concern in his eyes nearly undid her resolve.
Oh, the man could feign caring for her so well that even knowing it was a ploy did not strengthen Aurelia’s resistance!
“Since shortly after we came back from town,” Aurelia admitted, feeling her cheeks heat at her own foolishness.
He swore under his breath and peeled off his own jacket, wrapping its welcome warmth around her and bundling her back into his hall. Aurelia let him do so, hating how relieved she felt to have someone so obviously capable taking charge.
Were she not aware of his dark intent, she could have come to rely upon this man.
But that would be dangerous indeed.
*
“Come on, princess, into the shower, no excuses.”
What? Marissa pressed her ear to the door and listened shamelessly. Trust Aurelia to have foiled Marissa’s plans! That woman’s door opened and closed, but Baird did not come back into the hall.
Marissa heard the water come on in the adjacent room and hated the mental image that came along with it. She stalked back across the room and snuffed the candles with disgust.
So that was how it was going to be. Marissa surveyed the wilted flowers, the sorry excuse for a romantic dinner that was all she had been able to acquire in town and grimaced.
She could have accepted defeat, packed her bags and moved out, but Marissa was not a quitter.
Especially with stakes like this.
But the fact that Baird was already sleeping with Aurelia demanded some hard reconsideration of the facts. Baird might not have time to tire of Aurelia if that woman kept things moving at this pace. They could be at the altar before Baird even noticed that the blonde was not firing on all cylinders.
Marissa eyed her reflection assessingly, her perfect display of decolletage, and reluctantly acknowledged that thirty-five carefully managed years still had a hard time competing with a nubile blond of twenty. Marissa faced the ugly reality that her charms might not be enough to snare the big fish.
At least not in open competition. She smiled confidently at her reflection, knowing the time for subtlety was passed.
It was time to bring out the heavy artillery.
*
Baird was a bit surprised by how protective he felt of Aurelia. Like an old mother hen, he ushered her back into her room and turned the shower on full.
“Come on, princess, you’re chilled to the bone.”
Baird supposed he should have been encouraged by the fire that lit Aurelia’s eyes. “I will not disrobe in your presence!”
Baird shoved his hands into his pockets and backed away, the steam of the shower encouraging his imagination to ru
n wild. He remembered all too well the flash of her ankles beneath the changeroom door this afternoon.
“Don’t I get any thanks for helping you out of that pit?” Baird tried to smile engagingly, but Aurelia wasn’t having any of it.
“Thank you,” she said frostily. “Now, leave me be.”
He was batting a thousand here.
She didn’t want him anywhere near her, obviously enough. Not being wanted was a familiar sense for Baird, but this time, the awareness that his presence was unwelcome really stung.
“Fine!”
Baird left the steamy bathroom and returned to his room, unable to completely account for his foul mood. He paced its length and back, telling himself that what he needed was a good night’s sleep.
After all, there were more important things on his plate right now than the opinion of one troublesome, deluded princess.
*
Chapter Fifteen
This dream came stealthily and Aurelia welcomed the difference in its tone. This time, she well knew, she would have some answers. The scene was a peaceful one, though Aurelia realized that she occupied the view of another, yet again.
He was a young man, and he walked down to the sea towards a ship bobbing in the harbor. The ship was familiar to Aurelia, she noted with a start, for it was the Viking ship her sire had kept in good repair. Its high curving prow was carved with a serpent’s head and shields hung along the rails. The men were unfurling a great red sail that tugged in the wind as they checked its rigging.
The sky arched blue overhead, the wind ruffled his hair, and though the mood here was festive, the man’s heart had only one shadow upon it.
Time Travel Romances Boxed Set Page 18