She began to climb, slowly, dragging herself upward, fighting the tug of the wind, the sting of the sea spray it hurled against her face. She looked up. It was more than a mile, it was farther away than it had been just a moment before.
Her arms trembled with pain. At least the blood on her hands made it easier for her to grip the rope. She stopped just a moment to catch her breath, and found that she was smiling, her face pressed inward against the barren cliff wall. She’d won. She’d won. It was then she heard his shout.
“Caroline!”
She felt a spurt of energy and pulled herself hand over hand, not hesitating, not resting, not feeling the pain, only wanting to see him, to hold him.
She felt his hands clasp her shoulders. He pulled her over the edge of the cliff. He lifted her up and stood her in front of him, his hands on her shoulders. He looked down at her, just looked, saying nothing.
“I thought you were dead,” he said at last. “I couldn’t have borne that, Caroline. When I read the note Coombe had left me, I didn’t know what to think. He just said to come to St. Agnes Head as soon as I could.”
She threw herself against him, burying her face in his chest. “We must get Coombe. He tried to save me and he’s wounded.”
“Where?”
“I don’t think you’re going to want to believe this, North. I found King Mark’s treasure trove.” She paused, shook her head, and said, “But that’s not important right now. There’s something else first. Before Coombe lost consciousness he said Tregeagle’s name.”
“Oh no. Bloody hell, I don’t want to believe that.”
Suddenly Tregeagle’s voice was there right behind them and it was low, very tense, and filled with fury. “You damned bitch, you’re luckier than any human has a right to be. Well, it’s almost over now, and then we’ll be at peace again.”
He was walking toward them. Caroline saw Rafael Carstairs unconscious on the ground some six feet away.
North very calmly moved to stand in front of Caroline. “Listen to me, Tregeagle, you’re right. It is over now.”
Caroline said very slowly, knowing she was speaking not only to Tregeagle but to North as well, “I killed Bess Treath. Did you know Bess Treath was mad, Tregeagle? Did you know she very nearly killed Coombe? Did you know she’d killed all those other women? Did you know she’s obsessed with her brother, Dr. Treath?”
North was staring at her, disbelieving as she’d been when she first saw Bess Treath’s face, disbelieving in that instant before she knew the woman was there to kill her.
Tregeagle ignored her, saying, “Coombe deserved it, tried to interfere when he realized what had happened, wouldn’t listen to me. I would have killed him had I been here. I wish she had killed him, the miserable traitor. Yes, I told him what was happening, begged him to join me to rid this place of her, but he looked shocked that I would say such a thing. Shocked! He called me mad, just as you believe Bess Treath was mad. She was as sane as I am. She killed all those miserable sluts, but she failed with you. And I will finish it.” His thick white hair was plastered to his head by the raging wind. He stood tall and proud, his black cloak billowing out behind him, looking like an avenging angel.
“Why?” Caroline said, stepping around to stand beside North. She felt him stiffen, but didn’t look at him. “Why do you want to kill me, Tregeagle? What did I do to you?”
He said simply, “You took my precious little boy and you changed him.” It took her a moment to realize he was talking about North. “Yes, you changed him and now his trollop of a mother is here—all your doing—and that simpleton daughter of hers. What a disgrace that one is, staring about like a vacant puppet, and her mother trying to claim Nightingale blood in her. It’s disgusting, and I’ll see soon enough that she’s away from here again.”
“But she’s the very image of North,” Caroline said, aware that North was very slowly trying to ease in front of her again. But she wouldn’t allow it. “It was an accident that she is simple, nothing more, just an accident.”
“No accident. It was her blood that did it, and her lover’s, not Nightingale blood. When his grandfather visited her, he knew she’d betrayed her husband, cuckolded him like all the other Nightingale wives had betrayed their husbands, and that’s when he made certain she’d stay away forever, hiding her disgrace, her perfidy, from the world.”
North said very gently, his voice barely heard over the blustering wind, “Tregeagle, did you help Bess Treath kill all those women?”
“Certainly not, my lord! I am not like that. She is perhaps a bit mad, I’ll grant you that, but only at times, only when it’s warranted. Her deep and abiding love for her brother brought her to this pass.”
“How did you discover she was the murderess?”
“I saw her go into Coombe’s room at Mrs. Freely’s inn. I followed her. I saw her with the bloody knife wrapped in the shirt. I told her I wanted you dead, my lady, and she said it was nearly time for you, that soon you would be in love with her brother, like all those other foolish women. I was willing to assist her. But we had to bide our time. You managed to survive the wire stretched across the narrow course, more’s the pity. If you’d just died then like you were supposed to, then this wouldn’t have been necessary. Coombe wouldn’t have had to know. He wouldn’t have had to be killed. Or mayhap, he would have, for he is a soft fool.
“Yes, we had to wait to get to you, because his lordship kept people around you, always people about to guard you. I asked Timmy the maid, and the little bugger lied to me. To me!
“Except for tonight. Tonight was just perfect. She and I together wrapped you in the cloak and brought you here, but she had to leave because her beloved brother was waiting for her, so I tied you tightly, but not tightly enough. I had no reason to stay here because she wanted to be the one to kill you, she alone. She told me it was her privilege, her duty, so I returned to Mount Hawke and there was Coombe and I realized that he suspected. I didn’t say anything, and there the old fool was, wringing his hands, incoherent with worry after he discovered you were gone from Mount Hawke. I told him all about it then, tried to make him understand, but he wouldn’t. I even told him about Bess Treath and how she would take care of you. He turned white, the cowardly old man, but then he struck me. When I came to my senses, he was gone, come here to help you. I knew it just as I knew I would have to make him pay for it.”
North said, “Did you know that her ladyship just found King Mark’s treasure trove? Down there, in a chamber behind the cliff.”
“That’s a bloody lie, my lord. She’s taught you how to lie. Now you won’t try to distract me again. I’ve got to kill her and then I don’t know what I’ll do because you’ll be here and know that I killed her, and perhaps you’ll be angry with me and want revenge.”
He raised the pistol. North lunged at him, grabbing his raised arm, bending it back. The two men went down, North tangling in the folds of Tregeagle’s cloak.
Caroline jumped forward, tripped over the rope, and went to her hands and knees. She quickly grabbed the rope and looped it even as she ran to where North and Tregeagle were rolling about on the ground, closer and closer to the cliff.
“North!”
He was straddling Tregeagle now, pounding his fist into the man’s mouth. Tregeagle, with one final spurt of strength, whipped up his legs, striking North in the back. He went over Tregeagle’s head, toward the edge of the cliff, rolling, rolling, faster and faster. Caroline ran after him, jumping over Tregeagle, who was lying there, huge breaths wheezing out of his chest, and she grabbed at North. She caught his ankle, managing to hold him long enough to slide the looped rope over his foot and pull tightly. She sat back, digging in her heels, trying to gain leverage, but still he slid toward the edge of the cliff. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “Rafael! Help me! Rafael!”
But it wasn’t Rafael Carstairs who pulled North back. It was Tregeagle. Once he’d secured his master, he looked down at him, then over at Caroline.
“I couldn’t beat you,” he said very slowly. “You took my boy and I couldn’t beat you. I nearly killed him and you saved him.” Then he turned and simply stepped off the cliff. There was only the sound of the howling wind.
North was on his hands and knees, looking over the edge of the cliff. He saw Tregeagle spread on his back, looking for the world like a fallen angel, on the beach below.
He rose slowly and turned to face Caroline.
“It is too much,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I take it back. He doesn’t look like a fallen angel lying down there, he looks like a pathetic old man.”
“Yes, but you’re alive. Nothing else matters.”
He pulled her to her feet and into his arms. He held her close, rocking her.
“My God, are the two of you all right?”
It was Rafael Carstairs and he was still none too steady on his feet.
“We’re all right.”
“I saw Tregeagle jump. Why did he do it? What the hell happened? Caroline, where were you? He sneaked up on me and struck me. I’m sorry.”
“We’re alive,” North said. “We’ll explain everything later. Actually, nothing else is all that important.”
“Well,” Caroline said, drawing a deep breath. “Actually there is. As I already told North, I found King Mark’s treasure trove. There’s a chamber some twenty feet down the face of the cliff. I fell through it and into the chamber. Come, I’ll show you.”
North clutched her arms in his hands. “You think you’re climbing down that cliff face again?”
“Why, certainly. I found the treasure. It’s my right, North, my right.”
“Like hell it is. I don’t believe you, Caroline. You’re pregnant—oh God, is the babe all right?”
He was pressing his palms against her belly, trying to cradle her in his arms.
“The babe is fine. Now, listen. Rafael, after you let us down with the rope, you’ll have to pull up Coombe. He’s been wounded. Then you must take him to Dr. Treath.”
“I still can’t believe that Bess Treath is the one who murdered all the women. It boggles the mind, even now that I can glimpse some understanding.” She knew he was trying to grasp the reality of it, the truth of it.
“She loved her brother in her mad way, and any woman she fancied he loved or she fancied wanted him, she killed. She planted the bloody knife in Coombe’s chamber at the inn, just as Tregeagle told us. She hoped he’d left for good and thus could be blamed for my murder as well.”
North’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “But Coombe saved you?”
“No, I saved myself.”
“But how?”
“Let’s go back down and I’ll show you everything, including the sword. It was magic, North. It’s true, Rafael, it was made just for me, just for my hand. It’s huge, all strong glittering steel, at least four feet long, and its handle is covered with jewels, and it was embedded in this huge slab of rock but I pulled it out easily. I could lift it just as easily with one hand.”
“Sword?” North shook his head. “Listen to me, Caroline. You’re not going anywhere. I want you to stay here and try to keep warm. Rafael and I will—”
She just smiled up at him. “No,” she said very calmly, very gently, and he looked at her long and hard. There was something different about her, perhaps it was the quiet look of determination in her eyes that he’d never seen there before, perhaps it was the vibrant intensity he felt coming from her, a new sense of strength, of knowledge. It was deep and full, this new force in her, and he realized it was now a part of her. It was her right to see this to the end.
A magic sword?
It was Rafael Carstairs who eased both North and Caroline back down the cliff wall, a rope tied beneath their arms.
When North eased down through the collapsed opening into the chamber, he couldn’t at first believe his eyes. Then he strode quickly to where Coombe lay, shivering with shock and cold, but awake.
“My lord, she fetched you, didn’t she?”
“I told you I would, Coombe. You should learn to believe me.”
“She saved me, my lord.”
“You will tell me all about it very soon now. I’m going to ease this rope beneath your arms and Rafael Carstairs will haul you to the top. Then he’ll take you to see Dr. Treath.”
Coombe shivered at the name. Caroline didn’t blame him.
Both North and Caroline leaned out of the collapsed cliff wall to watch Rafael pull Coombe to the top. When he eased Coombe over the edge, they both breathed more easily.
North looked down at Bess Treath, lying there in a pool of blood, her face smoothed out and calm. She didn’t look like a madwoman. “It is ridiculous, you know,” he said.
“Yes. She told me many things, North, how she loved her brother, how she killed his first wife, then seduced him. Do you think he knows?”
“How could he not have suspected? We will see.”
Caroline pulled up short. “Oh goodness, where is the sword? I pulled it out of her and carefully laid it on the ground beside her. What happened to it? No one could have taken it.”
He was right on her heels as she ran back into the cliff. When he saw the flat stone that looked like some sort of ancient shrine, its top piled with jewels and gold and chalices, he sucked in his breath.
“King Mark,” he said.
“Yes, but he doesn’t seem to be buried here. This just seems to be some sort of hidden shrine. There’s just his treasure, just like your great-grandfather and grandfather believed, North, just like your father believed.” Suddenly, she gasped and took a step back.
“What is it? Are you all right, Caroline?”
She raised her arm and pointed. “No, it can’t be.” But there it was, the sword, embedded deeply, just as it had been, in the stone once again, its steel blade shimmering in the dim light, the jewel-encrusted handle glittering with mad color. She walked forward, her voice vague, utterly blank. “But how did it get back here? I don’t understand, North. I left the sword beside Bess Treath’s body. Where’s the blood on the blade? It looks as though it’s been polished. It looks just like it looked when I first saw it.”
She reached out her hand and tentatively touched the handle. She tried to fit her hand around it but couldn’t. It was massive, much too large for her woman’s hand. She wrapped both hands around the handle and pulled. The sword didn’t move. It was firmly planted in the stone. She pulled again, harder, with all her strength. Nothing happened.
North gently placed his hands over hers and pulled them away from the handle. He wanted to tell her it didn’t matter, that somehow it had been Coombe who saved her, that her fear, her terror had changed things about in her mind, but he said nothing. What was there to say? Even though Coombe had said she’d saved him, how could that be? Was he to believe that the damned sword was magic? He saw the bewilderment in her eyes, saw the myriad questions squirreling through her mind.
He just held her hands, remaining still. Then she shook herself and there was this strange smile on her mouth. She turned from him then and once again touched the massive sword. She said, “North, there’s something written on it here, just where the handle fits to the blade. Can you make it out?”
He stepped closer and squinted at the vague lettering. He said aloud, “I believe it says something like Excalibur.” He stared at the sword and said again, “Excalibur. No, my God, that’s legend, ancient myth. It’s not real, it can’t be real. It’s simply not possible. I won’t believe it. We’re in this strange buried chamber and our minds aren’t functioning properly. No, I won’t believe it.”
“King Arthur’s sword,” Caroline said slowly. She traced her fingertips over the etched lettering. “His sword. Malory wrote all about it. King Mark has nothing to do with anything here. He never did. All along, it was King Arthur and the magic sword that came loose from the stone only for him. But it came loose for me as well. That sword came free in my hand so easily, why, I lifted it effortlessly and swun
g it. Why? Because I was in danger? I don’t know, but what other explanation could there be? And now it’s back where it belongs again. The sword must remain here, North, it must.”
“I don’t believe we could pull it out in any case.” But North nonetheless, simply because he had to try, grasped the sword between his hands and pulled with all his strength. It didn’t even quiver.
“It will stay here,” he said, “since no one could pull it free, except for you.”
“When I desperately needed it or I would have died.”
North disliked the thought of magic, thoroughly disliked anything he couldn’t eventually explain, but he couldn’t deny the presence of the sword in front of him or the etching clear and fine on its shining steel. Had she really pulled it free? Rather, had the sword come free in her hands because it was magic?
He smiled down at his wife. “Those jewels aren’t embedded in the stone. What do you want to do with them, Caroline?”
She leaned forward to pick up one of the golden chalices and bumped her hip against the stone. She felt the gold piece of jewelry she’d tripped over when she was trying to escape from Bess Treath. Slowly she withdrew it. It was an armlet. It seemed to match the one that sat in its place of honor on the crimson bed of velvet in the drawing room with the etched letters REX on it.
“Where did you get that? It looks just like the other one.”
“It does look like the other one’s twin. I tripped over it when I was running away from Bess Treath and stuffed it in my cloak pocket. There’s etching on this one, North. Can you make it out in this dim light?”
He squinted at the etching, turned the armlet this way and that, then very slowly lowered it. He looked very pale in the shadowy light. His hand holding the armlet was none too steady.
“I don’t believe this,” he said.
“What is it?” she said, clutching at his arm.
“I really hate to have to say this. This armlet shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t feel warm and alive in my hand, as if it was worn just moments ago.” He handed her the armlet. “Here, Caroline. Read it.”
The Nightingale Legacy Page 39