He nodded. “Evidently no one ever found the wealth from this abbey if indeed the abbot hid it here. My father told me stories of abbey treasure still abound. Simon and I were always—” He stopped cold. He looked white. He grabbed her hands. “I saw us, Cam, I saw two boys, it had to be us—we were pulling at rocks, hoping to uncover treasure behind them, even under them. We were filthy, our faces grimed. Then—it was gone.”
CHAPTER 60
Cam pulled him against her, said against his throat, “What are you saying to your brother?”
Graham blinked. “Saying? I don’t remember—wait, Simon was bragging he was going to find all the hidden gold and sell it to fat old George IV or better yet, he’d become the King of France and if I licked his boots he might make me his valet.”
He stopped. Simon’s face, the images, the words, the boy’s bright bragging voice, so full of bravado, all were gone, blinked out, like a popped bubble. There was nothing more. But he would swear he heard the echo of the boy’s crowing voice, a sound memory.
“How old was Simon?”
“Maybe eight, nine.”
“Did you and Simon ever find anything?”
“I-I don’t know. No, surely not or my father would have said something.”
Cam kissed his cheek. “We’ve been at King’s Head for only three days and already images and words are coming back to you. Now, you said there was some Latin here in this cell. How I hated studying it, but it was better than Italian. Iremember conjugating Latin verbs for my father. I wonder if I still remember any words.”
The carved Latin words were so faded they were difficult to make out, but she did make out a single word:Beware—
Graham spit on his handkerchief and rubbed at the line of words scored into the stone. He whispered,“Beware the evil behind the stone.”
He sat back on his heels. “Evil behind the stone. Which stone?” And she pulled and prodded, but the stone didn’t move. She sat back on her heels, stared at it, willing it to move and show treasure beyond belief.
She said, “This is highly disappointing. Graham, would you and Simon have brought your tutor here and asked him what the Latin meant? I mean, even if you could make out the words, you were young, you could have been wrong.”
“That sounds logical. I don’t remember. But, Cam, how many people do you think translated the Latin over the years and pushed at that stone and all those around it? And nothing.”
“Maybe a hundred, a thousand.” And she sighed. Together they studied more Latin words that were carved in other stones, but they were too worn to make out. Were there more warnings carved into the walls about evil? Was the evil Henry VIII? Graham doubted anyone would ever know. He said, “On the other hand, maybe someone did find treasure here but kept it quiet, became rich and lived like a lord for the rest of his life?”
Cam said, “I like that, but you know as well as I do a secret like that would never remain a secret. Ah, what a fascinating mystery, but you know, if there is some sort of curse involved, it’s so very old it’s long passed into oblivion.”
Graham frowned. “Wait, there’s something more, something strange. It’s there, at the edge of my mind, but—now it’s gone. I don’t remember.” He shrugged. “It was probably just more boys’ foolishness. Come.”
They walked into the great central area and stared at the vast room, three sides still standing, several wooden beams still overhead. How many thousands of stones had been used to build this central hall? The abbey? But there were no piles of loose stones on the dirt floor, again, very likely hauled away centuries ago for building.
“Let me show you the abbot’s sanctuary, well, really his office, I suppose, where he kept records and studied and met with the workers and monks.”
They walked into a good-sized square room off the central hall. This one had all its walls and three overhead beams. There was a small fireplace, really, only a square hole, in one of the walls, a single small window.
Like all the other rooms, this one was empty. Cam turned a slow circle in the middle of the room. “I wonder where the abbot sat? Was his desk close to the fireplace? What did he think when he knew the king’s soldiers were coming to dispossess him and all his monks? There must have been relics, treasures gathered over the centuries. What did he do with it all?” She grabbed Graham’s hand, tried to pull him toward the fireplace, but he wasn’t moving, laughing at her. “Maybe there are treasures stuffed up in the chimney, maybe—”
There was a tearing sound from above, over Graham’s head. Without thought, Cam leapt at him, smashing him back and fell on top of him. The beam crashed down, struck Cam’s temple, splintered and fell to the dirt.
“No! Cam, wake up. Cam!”
As gently as he could, Graham lifted Cam off him and lay her on the dirt floor.
He yelled, “Arlo!”
Arlo came running into the room. “My Lord—Oh no, her ladyship—”
Graham heard himself say, “A beam fell, she pushed me out of the way and it struck her head.” He fell to his kneesbeside her, saw a trickle of blood snake from above her left temple down her cheek. He pressed fingers against her throat. He felt nothing and his breath hitched. His world turned to chaos. No, no. He pressed again and there, and there it was, a faint pulse. He felt such relief he wanted to yell. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and daubed at the blood, then pressed it against the open wound at her temple. And he prayed.
“She’s alive. Arlo, run back to King’s Head and see a doctor is fetched. I’ll bring her back.”
He vaguely heard Arlo racing away. He looked over at the beam, lying on the black earth, broken apart, sharp shards sticking up. He could see the rot, yet it had held together for centuries and only now it had come down? He looked up at the ceiling, but saw no one, heard no movement.
