“They say ancient kings lived in this area long ago,” Rob mused. “I wonder….”
“D’ye think the old wall may be part of the auld castle in the legend?” Hector asked.
“Could be,” Robert nodded. “Sir Hugh wrote about the legend inThe Enchanted Briar.I learned the verses as a lad. It mentions hidden gold.”
“My father based that poem on the legend, but there is little truth to it,” Aedan said.
“Traditions do say there’s treasure in these hills, hidden by magic, waiting to be found,” Hector said. “King Arthur’s gold.”
“‘Deck’d in raiment of the sun,’” Rob recited, musing. “‘A mighty hoard of treasure bright…’”
“Nonsense,” Aedan said. “He invented most of it. There is no treasure.”
“King Arthur’s gold cou’ be there,” Hector insisted. “It will be found when the princess wakes from her magic spell.”
“A fairy tale that my father invented.”
“Some of it is true,” Hector said. “If there is gold, sir, ye’ll have nae more troubles.”
“I would have new troubles,” Aedan muttered.
“Dundrennan would become a famous tourist site,” Rob said.
“That will bring a fair amount o’ coin,” Hector said.
Aedan shook his head. “I just want this damnable business over with. Hector, ask Angus Gowan to survey the new gradient, if you would.”
As the older man left, Aedan extracted a leather memorandum book and a stub of lead pencil from his pocket and made a quick sketch, then scribbled some notes. He waved Rob to follow as he crossed the graveled road toward the work crew.
“Mr. Rankine recommends the use of black powder where the rock is sufficiently dense to make working by hand difficult,” Rob said as they went. “But we cannot blow willy-nilly along this route no matter how hard the rock.”
“Often we must follow instinct and logic over rote learning.” Aedan glanced at his apprentice. “I have a message for you from my aunt and cousin. They greatly enjoyed having tea with you while I was away, and they asked me to invite you to a small dinner party at Dundrennan House tomorrow evening. I didn’t know about it myself until this morning. They want to welcome the museum antiquarian and her brother.”
“Welcoming the enemy?” Rob grinned.
“So it seems,” Aedan replied grimly.
“I would be honored to attend, and I look forward to meeting your antiquarian.”
“Not mine, by any means,” Aedan drawled, while Rob laughed. But a quick thought belied the statement—he wished she were his. Then he shut down the thought.
“Of course. I’m also curious to see what changes Miss Stewart has made at Dundrennan. She was keen to drape new curtains at the windows, so I helped.”
“Cousin Amy is in the throes of decorating madness,” Aedan agreed. When a curious noise threaded through his awareness, he turned to see a huge red steam engine secured on a platform wagon drawn by two oxen. “That great metal beast is rattling again.”
“Kenneth is waving for assistance. I’ll see to it,” Rob said, sprinting toward it.
With giant pistons and shovel arm pumping, the red steam engine hissed and clicked as it drove a huge metal scoop into the ground, digging a new section of the road. The beast chugged as Rob leaped up on the cart to adjust the machine’s controls.
Dust and smoke mingled in a cloud as the beast worked, spreading along the earthen track. Elsewhere, men wielded picks and shovels, clearing debris in the wake of the steam engine. The metal beast, rented from a Glasgow firm, was powerful and useful, but it was finicky and downright bothersome.
Hector came along and shouted over the noise, but Aedan scarcely heard him. When the man pointed in the direction of Cairn Drishan, shouting, Aedan glanced that way.
And swore, loud and sharp.
His gig and bay horse were tearing down the road toward them in a fury of dust and commotion. He saw Christina Blackburn at the reins, leaning back with the effort, going at such a mad pace that her skirts flapped in the wind.
The vehicle was hurtling straight toward the work site, and she did not seem to have good control. As the work crew dropped their tools and scattered, Aedan broke into a run, hurrying toward the gig, shouting and waving. The gig was going far toofast, the bay galloping and lurching sideways, the gig leaning dangerously.
