Slowly, carefully, she untied the knot.The keys fell into her palm with a soft tinkle and she caught her breath, fearing she would be caught.
But Laird Calum slept on.
Agnes left the cord around his neck.She retreated with care, closing the door behind herself, and stopped to listen while she stood on the stairs.No one was near.
This was her chance.
She hastened up the stairs on silent feet, unlocking the door of the solar as quietly as she could.She breathed a sigh of relief that the key worked, then ducked inside.
She closed the door quietly behind herself, then locked it again so she could not be discovered at the worst moment.Her heart was racing.She crossed the solar, avoiding the floorboards that creaked.Her hands shook a little as she unlocked the treasury, and she feared that the saddlebag had been removed.
But it was there, on the floor just inside the door, just as it had been from Laird Fergus’ return.There were also chests of coins and one of documents, but this was the bag that intrigued Agnes.
She listened, but there were no indications that anyone climbed to the solar or sought her.She crouched down and unlocked the buckles, threw back the flap.There was a wrapped bundle within the bag.It smelled faintly of manure, which surprised her, but she lifted it out of the bag and carried it to the window.
Agnes set the bundle on the table beneath the window and studied the way it was wrapped.She took careful note of the details so that she could return it with the appearance that it had been untouched.Then she opened the bundle.There was a great deal of cloth wrapped around whatever was inside, as if it might be fragile.It was round and of a goodly size.Agnes thought she felt metal and could not make sense of it.
Until the last length of cloth was removed and the sunlight fell upon the golden reliquary in her hands.Agnes’ mouth fell open in astonishment.The treasure was gold, gleaming gold and studded with gems, marked with inscriptions and crosses.
Agnes could not read the inscription but she knew this was a prize, a treasure beyond price.She traced a cross engraved in the surface with a shaking fingertip.This explained the presence of the Templars.They guarded this marvel and were yet in the keep.She licked her lips, wondering how best to use this treasure to see the whore discredited.
The answer was clear.Of course, an infidel would not hold such an item sacred.An infidel might steal it, perhaps to finance her journey home.Agnes smiled.She would steal the reliquary and make it look as if the whore had taken it.Laird Fergus would challenge the whore, she would deny that she had done anything amiss—as one would expect—and he would cast her out.
Leaving his bed cold and his father yet in need of an heir.
The scheme was simple, yet flawless.
Perhaps Agnes would be rewarded for restoring the prize, when all seemed to be lost.
Certainly, she could grant Laird Fergus all he needed.
Agnes lifted the reliquary out of its protective wrappings and rolled it instead in one of the whore’s dirty chemises.She left the saddlebag splayed open in the treasury, and placed the wrapping in the bag, but in disarray.It looked as if someone had hastened to seize it and not cared that its absence would be obvious.
Well pleased with herself, Agnes locked the door to the treasury again.She ensured that there was no sign of her presence, then left and locked the door from outside the solar.She hugged the treasure as she descended the stairs, praying that she would not be spotted.
The bucket for slops was outside the old man’s door.It was empty but only Agnes knew that.She put the bundle in the bucket, replaced the lid, then took a deep breath.She eased into the old man’s chamber, where he still snored, and placed the keys back on the cord.Her hands were still trembling, but her excitement rose as she neared success.She knotted the cord again, holding her breath all the while, and worked both cord and knot beneath his chemise.When she was certain he slept uninterrupted, she backed slowly out of the chamber.
The bucket was just as she had left it.Agnes hefted it to descend the stairs.
Iain had come into the hall.She smiled at him, noting that one Templar was playing chess with Murdoch while the other looked on.That second one spoke while gesturing to the board, apparently giving advice, and Murdoch snorted.
Disdaining it, no doubt.
“Laird Calum is asleep but wishes to be awakened for the evening meal,” she said to Iain and the steward nodded.
His gaze dropped to the bucket with a frown.“My lord does not usually evacuate at this hour of the day.”
“And so he did not,” Agnes said, concocting a lie.“But I forgot that I was to take his bucket this morning.I am sorry.”
Iain was stern.“See that you do not make such an oversight again, Agnes.His lordship should not have to endure the smell for a moment longer than necessary, and the hall must be kept clean, by request of her ladyship.”
“Of course, Iain.I apologize again.”Agnes bowed and apologized and said whatever was necessary to convince the old busybody to look the other way.Finally, she was able to leave the hall.She took measured steps to the stream on the far side of the keep where the sewage was dumped.
Instead of emptying the bucket, though, she placed it on the ground.She looked back but could see no one.She tipped off the lid and seized the treasure.Agnes jumped the wall and crossed the stream, clutching her prize.She ran for a hiding place she knew well.
The reliquary would be safe there until she could give it to Laird Stewart.
How soon could she convince someone to look for the reliquary to ensure that the whore was condemned for its loss?Agnes was not certain who knew about the prize and doubted that Laird Fergus would hear a word against the infidel in his bed.
