Page 115 of Under Arthur’s Protection

Because it did feel like nothing. Like a habit he was falling into.

Focus on the wall, Gwen.

Right. The wall.

I turned my flashlight back to the immense slab of slate across from me.

A woman picking her way through the cave wobbled on the rocks. She landed on a slick one, pitched forward, and I caught her hand before she fell.

“Oh!” Her foot plunged into a tidal pool. “That’s freezing.”

“Careful. The rocks are slippery through here.”

“Thank you.” She laughed while she steadied herself. “Bit more dramatic than the brochure, eh?”

“It has its charms.”

She smiled and continued toward the far end.

I’d finished my first grid, so I picked up the sword and moved deeper into the cave. I swept the beam across a wide, relatively flat section of wall, roughly fifteen feet across. The rock had a different texture here—straighter and flatter in places, as though nature hadn’t shaped it alone. I moved closer to trace one area with my fingers. The surface under my fingertips was smooth.

But a distinct edge interrupted the smoothness, as though someone had carved an arc several feet long⁠—

I stepped back.

And then further back.

And then further.

I angled the flashlight to throw light across the full width of the section in front of me. As the shadows shifted, the grooves—random up close—turned into a pattern.

A curve. Too regular for erosion.

I moved the light to the right. A straight line, cutting vertically through the curve. And below it, undulating channels.

It was the wavy line. I tilted my flashlight upward. The circle. The cross.

I almost dropped the sword case.

The symbol was enormous—at least fifty feet high. I hadn’t expected anything on that scale. If I’d been standing five feet to the left, it would have been invisible, the edges of the sea-worn slate obscuring half of it.

I’d found it.

I’d really found it.

“Arthur!” I yelled, in case he was anywhere nearby. But no response came.

You found it, Gwen! It’s all real!

Every cell in my body wanted to jump up and down with glee, but the logical part of my brain reminded me of the woman who’d slipped on the rocks.

Take pictures. Take a lot of pictures!

I put the case down and fished my camera out of my pocket. I angled the flashlight until the full carving appeared in the viewfinder. I moved side to side and took different shots, showcasing how the image vanished if you moved too far. Each click of the shutter was a fact, and I built arguments from facts.

The research paper was practically writing itself. From the sword’s ring to the church’s inscription to this cave. The Hospitaller inventory from 1312 confirmed the church dates. And now physical proof carved in stone showed the same symbol had marked all three.

But what did it mean? Was it a Templar symbol? Was it more ancient than that? Had someone simply copied this symbol onto St. Catherine’s Church after finding it here? How many unanswered questions were too many for a paper?