Page 25 of Highlander’s Quest of Desire

Bruce slipped his hand into hers. It was a trivial thing, taking someone’s hand, yet he felt something momentous was taking place.

* * *

Finding the ruins of the monastery took some doing. The remains were a few meters of a broken wall that faced the Loch. How something as important as a map could have survived in the ruins was beyond Bruce, and then he had no clue where to begin looking.

"This is the place," he said, spreading his arms to take in the place.

Elspeth bit her lower lip and considered the ruins before her. "Where do we begin looking?" she asked.

Bruce didn't answer. Instead, he started inspecting the wall. It was made of solid rock chipped around the edges to fit in together. Though most of the structure had withered away or plundered to make other buildings on the island, this wall was well built and didn't look like it would crumble anytime soon.

Yet, did it hold the secret map? Or had it been found and discarded as trash a long time ago?

No, Bruce shook his head. The Bishop wouldn't send him on a fool's errand. He must have been certain of the map's location to have mentioned it to Bruce.

Mimicking his actions, Elspeth started touching the wall to find any loose stones or crevices. They went around the wall inch by inch, but there were no markings, nothing to indicate that anything was hidden there.

The sun was low now, and Bruce was beginning to feel more frustrated than he had felt in prison, unable to get out. As the minutes passed, he began to feel more and more that he was chasing a dead man's fever dreams.

"Is it buried?" Elspeth asked as the sun began to sink behind the trees, turning the Loch waters red like a lake of fire. "Maybe they buried it a long time ago."

"Maybe so," Bruce sighed, standing back from the wall. "But it will be impossible to find it in one day. We have nae the first clue how large the monastery was, or where to look." He slammed his fist into the wall. "It is a dead end."

"Hmm." Elspeth sounded distracted. Bruce turned to find her chewing her lower lip, looking intently at the trees around them. "How old do ye ken these trees are? Do you suppose they were around when the monastery existed?"

What the devil did it matter if the trees were as old as the monastery? Bruce considered the trees. They were common ash. One could find one anywhere in Scotland. Yet, they were much younger than the monastery.

"Nae, they are younger. The monastery was built in the seventh century. This wall is one of the outer walls. The trees in this clearing are where some of the rooms in the monastery must have been."

"That tree is the only one with raised roots. I wonder why," she said, walking toward a close cluster of trees.

Bruce followed. Now that he looked closely, Elspeth was right. Some of the trees were young while others were older. Most had been planted naturally when the samaras fell to the ground and were plunged deeper by rain or animals. Yet, none had exposed roots. Only one tree stood out in that regard.

It was an ordinary tree. The canopy of branches fought with its neighbors to gain the most from the sun. Bruce observed it closely, but other than the exposed roots there was nothing extraordinary about it. Elspeth was on her knees looking at the hollows between the roots, her fingers digging into the grass.

Bruce hung back; he didn't believe there was anything special to be found there. He cursed his overestimation of his abilities to find the map or the Honors for that matter. This was more proof that he was not worthy of being king, as the Bishop had wanted.

Was he being a fool? Everyone around him, those that loved him, wanted him to leave for France and safety. What was the hope that he would be able to find the Honors in the little time he had? He was being hunted, a man on the run; how could he possibly search for lost treasures to unite Scotland when he had failed to secure the first clue?

"We should head back," he said to Elspeth. "There's nae need to search further."

Elspeth sat up straight, the small frown of concentration still creasing her lovely brow. "There's something in there," she said. "It's stuck deep inside so much as I cannae reach. But I'm certain there is a bundle underneath this tree."

Bruce was flabbergasted. It couldn't be. How had Elspeth guessed the location of the map? But no, he mustn't think ahead of himself. The bundle could be nothing more than rags left behind by a thieving fox.

Throat dry, and palms clammy, Bruce knelt on the ground and peered into the hole between two knotted roots that Elspeth had pointed out.

Beyond the dead leaves and the mud, Bruce spied something faintly blue. Reaching with his arm, he could only manage to brush his fingers against it, and a thrill went up his spine. It was cloth, and it felt compact, not scattered loose rags. Grunting, he knelt further in, his fingernails digging at the ground beneath the bundle to create an incline it could slide down off.

"Shall I get a stick?" Elspeth asked.

"Nae," Bruce groaned from the effort. "I've nearly... got it!" He stood up straight and raised his arm in triumph.

Elspeth clapped her hands in glee and settled beside him on her knees. Bruce placed the bundle on the grass. Caked with mulch and mud, and the blue tartan only showed up in places. It was good tartan, made with waxed cotton to keep the rain and other elements of nature out.

The knot was tight, and despite Bruce and Elspeth's attempt to open it, it wouldn't budge. Reluctantly, Bruce pulled out his dagger and tore at its side. In the dying sunlight, they peered down at its contents: a plain iron cross, a few papers with faint drawings on them, and a sealed yellowing envelope.

Bruce licked his lips. With trembling fingers, he made to pick up the envelope, but saw his muddied hands. It would be sacrilege to touch such venerated objects with soiled fingertips.

As if reading his thoughts, Elspeth picked up the envelope and sidled closer to him. Bruce felt her arms pushed up against his. The faint light and the heady scent of disturbed earth filled his nostrils. Carefully, Elspeth broke the seal and opened the envelope.

They gasped.

The ink was fading in some places, otherwise it was intact. Clear markings indicated where they needed to go. In a flash, Bruce's path was clear, the smog of unease and hopelessness lifted.