Fair Weather Enemies Page 6

  “What of our baggage?” Jane asked.

  “Not to worry,” said Barlow. “I have arranged for the innkeeper to guard our bags. I was sure to inform him that I could bring suit should he fail in his duty.”

  Adam clapped a hand on the table. “Very well. Let us begin the search.”

  Jane smiled. “Perhaps you should don your boots first. We would not wish anyone to think you a savage.”

  “Oh, but I am a savage. I thought you knew.”

  “I do. However, I prefer the look of you in boots.”

  She immediately regretted the words. Since when did she concern herself with his appearance? Adam cocked his head slightly to the left and studied her for a moment. However, he said nothing and instead leaned over to pull on his boots. After finishing, he stood and met her eyes.

  “Better?”

  She stood as well. “Yes. Not that I care.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Right. Let’s be off, then.”

  Ten minutes later, Jane and her traveling companions stood in a grassy expanse beside Carlisle Castle appraising the relic. It proved not nearly as imposing as she had expected. A cube of stone three stories tall surrounded by a stone wall, the castle seemed more akin to Egyptian architecture than to English. She faced Adam.

  “If this is the starting place, then the next lines of the letters should enlighten us.”

  “Agreed. Shall we?”

  Jane retrieved her letter and held it before her. She read the next line.

  “The way of the journey the ancient keep knows.” She glanced up at Adam.

  “The prints of retreating invaders it shows,” he read.

  She repeated the lines in mumbled consideration. “The mention of an ancient keep seems to indicate the tower portion of the castle. Mr. Barlow said the rebels of ’45 invaded here. Did they also leave by this way?”

  “Indeed,” said Barlow. “The castle experienced a rare double siege. The Jacobite rebels from Scotland took the castle from the city regiment with hardly a fight. A month later, they left behind several hundred men when retreating across the border. The castle was taken back by Royalists during a subsequent siege, after which many defenders were executed.”

  Adam nodded. “The ‘prints of retreating invaders’ surely refers to the Jacobites. The castle must indeed be the correct starting point.”

  “But where to begin?” asked Hester. “The castle grounds cover many acres, and we are quite outside the walls.”

  Jane eyed the castle again and the ranks of the royal garrison roaming the battlements. Her focus soon fell on the cubical central structure looming over the rest of the fortress. She glanced at her letter to peruse the subsequent lines of the riddle, all equally murky without Adam’s counterpart. However, certain obscure references led her to a conclusion.

  “We must enter the keep.”

  Adam cocked his head. “How can you be certain?”

  “I cannot. However, there appear to be six roads leading from Carlisle, and only one can be the correct path. I also do not believe the mention of the keep was happenstance. The prints of retreating invaders must somehow be seen from inside. The keep must show us which road to take. I believe we must enter for the promised revelation to occur.”

  Adam peered at her so intently that she feared he would ridicule the suggestion. However, he dipped his forehead instead. “Very well. But how? I doubt the guards will simply allow us to stroll into a fortress. This is the reason they call them guards.”

  She frowned at him. “Perhaps we should ask nicely. Their manners may exceed yours.”

  Barlow smiled wickedly. “Or perhaps we should ask them not so nicely. As a solicitor, I have a certain expertise in such matters.”

  Hester touched his arm, causing Barlow to flinch. She smiled at him. “I do not doubt your legal proficiency. However, the British army typically answers insults with artillery. I cannot imagine anyone cowing them with mere words.”

  Barlow gripped a lapel with one hand. “My dear Mrs. Byrd. I have learned that sufficient confidence and a steady nerve may overcome even the staunchest of barriers. Follow me and either nod agreeably or appear peeved at the appropriate times.”

  Curious, Jane trailed Barlow and Hester to the front gate with Adam in tow. Two guards regarded their approach with seeming boredom. As Barlow drew near, one languidly unshouldered his weapon.

  “State your business,” he droned.

  Barlow peered sharply at the man without speaking for the space of several seconds. The guard’s eyes flickered with doubt. He glanced at his platoon mate, who simply shrugged. The soldier cleared his throat.

  “Pardon me, sir. Might I inquire as to the nature of your business?”

  Barlow drew his imposing frame even taller. “Indeed, you might. I am Mr. Simon Barlow, Assistant to the Director of the Royal Ministry of Antiquities and Relics.”

  The guard blinked. “Assistant to the Director of the Royal…”

  “Ministry of Antiquities and Relics. Yes, yes.” He waved a hand toward Jane, Hester, and Adam. “These fine folks are my esteemed colleagues and chief members of the Committee on Roman Artifacts and Pre-Edwardian Monoliths.”

  On cue, they all nodded agreeably. The guard blinked twice this time.

  “Roman Artifacts and…”

  “Pre-Edwardian Monoliths. Yes, yes.” Barlow took one long and slow step toward the cowed guard. “Were you not informed of our coming?”

  The soldier glanced again at his comrade with apparent discomfort. The other man stared at Barlow with unease and pointed to the first guard. “He is in charge. I know nothing.”

  Jane attempted to appear distinctly peeved. The soldier glanced warily at her.

  “Well,” said Barlow, “Were you or were you not informed of our decennial monument assessment and inspection?”

  “Decennial monument…” the guard’s voice cracked.

  “Assessment and inspection. Yes, yes.”

  The man shrank before the ominous solicitor. “No?”

  “Is that a question or a statement, soldier?”

  “A statement?”

  Barlow inched nearer. “What are your names?”

  “Carver.”

  “Simms!” said the second man with a salute.

  Barlow cocked his head toward Aunt Hester. “Remember that, Mrs. Byrd, and record it later.” He returned his full scrutiny to the object of his legal hammer. “I must speak to your superior immediately. And hurry, Mister…”

  “Carver,” said Hester.

  “Carver, yes, yes.”

  The soldier disappeared quickly through the gate and reappeared moments later with a red-faced ensign while offering rapid explanation.

  “Antiquities and Relics, sir! Decennial assessment, sir!”

  Before the ensign could open his mouth, Barlow asserted authority. “Just who the devil are you?”

  The officer flinched. “Ensign MacDonald.”

  “Remember that as well, Mrs. Byrd, for later recording.” He glared at the officer. “Ensign, we have received multiple disturbing reports regarding the abuse of Carlisle Castle by the garrison stationed therein. We have come to verify the veracity of said complaints.”

  MacDonald narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure. I did not hear of…”

  “His Royal Majesty holds this very edifice in the highest of regard, particularly given its long and proud history of royal support. His disappointment in anyone attempting to impede our efforts would be, should I say, vast.” He paused. “Eminently vast, ensign.”

  The officer tugged at his collar while his face grew redder still. “Perhaps we could allow you inside for a time. Long enough for your…”

  “Decennial assessment and inspection, sir,” offered Carver.

  “Yes, of course.” He addressed the t
wo guards. “Please accompany the…the…”

  “Committee on Roman Artifacts and Pre-Edwardian Monoliths, sir.”

  “Yes, of course. Please accompany these people to ensure that no one impedes their efforts.”

  With that, the officer fled into the fortress. Carver stood straight and shouldered his weapon with pride. “If you will follow us, ladies and gentlemen.”

  He and Simms pivoted smartly and marched into the fortress through the gate. When Barlow glanced at Hester and winked, Jane choked back a laugh.

  “Sufficient confidence indeed, Mr. Barlow.”

  Chapter Ten

  Adam flinched in surprise when Jane brushed against him as they followed their guides. He glanced down with alarm to find her stretching toward him, her full lips moving inexorably nearer. His first instinct was to taste them. However, sanity returned swiftly. She was still a Hancock. Furthermore, he realized, she simply wished to converse discreetly. Nothing more. He leaned down, careful to avoid those distracting lips.

  “Adam,” she whispered. “The next line of my letter reads, ‘Prostrate to pray where a king’s soul took flight’. What does yours say?”

  “Withdraw from the darkness, return to the light.”

  He watched her carefully as the cogs of her mind turned. How did she smell so good after three days on a ship and a dusty road? It made no sense. After a moment, she peeked up at him.

  “We should ask about royal residents in the keep. Someplace dark.”

  “Good thought, Jane.” He caught up with the soldiers. “Carver. What do you know of famous royal residents? Particularly those who may have stayed in the main tower?”

  “Recently, sir?”

  “Not recently. Historically speaking.”

  Carver stopped, bringing the entire party to a halt. “It is said that the castle lies on a Roman foundation built by Hadrian. I suppose he may have visited.”

  “Not possible,” said Simms. “The castle itself was built by Henry the Second upon older ruins.”

  “Fair point, Simms. However, it was Henry the First who built the castle, not his grandson.”

  “Right you are, Carver. I sometimes confuse my Henrys.”

  Adam considered the information while reflecting on the words about a king’s soul taking flight. “Did something happen to Henry here? Something bad, perhaps?”

  The soldiers stared at each other briefly before shrugging simultaneously.

  “Not that we know, sir,” said Carver.

  “He seemed more fortunate than other royalty with regard to the castle,” added Simms.

  The soldiers faced Adam triumphantly, apparently satisfied they had answered his question. He waited patiently but they offered nothing further. Jane waded into the pause.

  “Would you care to elaborate, soldiers?”

  The men exchanged a solemn glance. Simms grimaced. “Must we?”

  Carver nodded vigorously. “We usually do not speak of such things. Bad luck, you know.”

  Barlow cleared his throat loudly. “His Royal Highness would be most grateful if you made an exception in this case. Decennial assessment and inspection, and all that.”

  Carver nodded with a frown. “Right, right.” He motioned them nearer, and everyone stepped into a tight knot. The soldier lowered his voice.

  “There was Mary Queen of Scots. She was held prisoner here.”

  Simms clarified. “Not so much held prisoner as taken into protective custody.”

  “Right you are. Anyway, on the darkest of stormy nights, one can hear her wailing in the walls of the keep.”

  Jane cocked her head. “You have heard Mary Queen of Scots wailing in the walls?”

  Carver shook his head. “Not so much Mary, but her ghost.”

  Simms held up a finger. “And not so much wailing, but a low steady groan.”

  Jane frowned. “A low steady groan? As if wind blowing through old stones?”

  Simms beamed. “Exactly.”

  Hester lifted her hand. “Why would the ghost of Mary Queen of Scots roam these grounds? She was beheaded much farther to the south.”

  Carver shrugged. “As we are not experts on ghosts, it remains a mystery to us.”

  Adam shook his head. This seemed a dead end, so to speak. The line of the letter mentioned a king, not a queen. Still, he wondered. “Did she perhaps escape? Take flight, as it were?”

  Carver and Simms exchanged a glance. Simms offered explanation. “Not so much escaped as she was moved to another castle.”

  “I see. So, she was not really a prisoner here, she did not die here, and she did not really escape from here. I fail to see any reason for her ghost to haunt the place.”

  Carver nodded agreement. “What you say is true. In fact, the other ghost has far more reason to haunt the castle.”

  Jane stepped nearly nose to nose with the startled soldier, perhaps running short on patience. “What other ghost?”

  “Why, the ghost of King David, of course.”

  “King David? Of the Bible?”

  The soldiers laughed and Simms waved a dismissive hand. “No, miss. To my knowledge, that King David never visited Carlisle.”

  “Or England, for that matter,” said Carver. “I speak of King David the First of Scotland.”

  Adam grunted. “I hesitate to ask, but why would King David’s ghost haunt the keep?”

  Carver stared at Adam as if he were a simpleton. “Because, sir, he died in the prayer room of the keep.”

  Realization struck. He turned to find Jane staring at him, and together they spoke identical words. “Prostrate to pray where a king’s soul took flight!”

  In his moment of exuberance, he grabbed her gloved hands and pumped them up and down. “This leaves little doubt as to the letters’ accuracy! And we appear to be at the right place!”

  He wondered briefly why Jane did not share his joy but instead stared at him with wide eyes. When she dropped her gaze to their intermingled hands, he rediscovered reason. He snatched his hands away from hers as if dropping a hot poker.

  “My apologies. I forgot myself.”

  Her expression of surprise slowly faded into the barest of smiles. “So it seems. Very unbecoming of an enemy, wouldn’t you say?”

  He could not help but note the color in her cheeks. “Indeed.”

  Mercifully, Hester stepped between them and grabbed her niece’s hand. “Come, Jane. We must find a ghost.”

  “Right,” said Adam. “Our fine escorts will show us the way.”

  The soldiers exchanged a mortified glance. “Must we?” said Carver.

  Barlow cleared his throat again. “Assessment and inspection. Royal favor.”

  “Right, sir. Come, then. Let’s do this quickly.”

  The faux inspection committee followed the soldiers up a stone incline that led into the second floor of the keep. They entered through a door puncturing the several-foot thick wall to find a mostly empty room illuminated by a single tall window. Carver stopped to address them.

  “This is a storeroom, although it stores nothing.”

  “And the prayer room?” Adam said.

  The soldier led them through an archway to another room nearly identical to the first. “Another storeroom, again storing nothing.”

  Adam nodded. “About the prayer room.”

  Carver swallowed hard and pointed to a dark opening in the far wall. A single pitiful candle burned on a stand just outside the door. “Just there. Left is the jail. Right is the prayer room. Enter if you must, but I will remain here.”

  “As will I,” said Simms. Both men set the butts of their rifles on the floor and folded their arms to demonstrate resolve. Adam rolled his eyes. Ghosts, indeed.

  “Very well.”

  With his traveling companions close behind, he approached the dark opening an
d lifted the candle. A faint breeze pricking his skin brought him to an abrupt halt. A hand captured his elbow from behind. He jumped and swiveled his head to find Jane smirking.

  “Afraid of the dark, Mr. Ashford?”

  “No. But I am afraid of Oxfordshire witches.”

  He glanced aside to spy Hester clinging to Barlow’s arm. She was clearly unsettled.

  “Perhaps we will remain here,” said the solicitor. “We would not want to crowd such a small space, after all.”

  Adam chuckled. “Of course. Jane and I will investigate. If we encounter any ghosts, we will be certain to call for help.”

  He moved slowly through the opening with Jane still clutching his elbow. Beyond the gap, a narrow hallway traveled in either direction, each fork long enough that the candle did not penetrate the darkness. A wicked thought occurred to him, and he froze.

  “Stop. I see something there.” He tried to whisper as ominously as possible. Jane’s grip became tighter. “Something ethereal. Like a man kneeling… Oh, now he’s standing. He’s turning…”

  When Jane shrieked and burrowed into his back, he let loose a laugh. “What’s wrong, Jane? Afraid of the dark?”

  She punched him in the back of his shoulder hard enough to sting. “Adam Ashford. You are still well-suited to pulling a manure cart.”

  “Point taken. My apologies, but I could not resist. Shall we continue?”

  “Yes. But do that again and I will be forced to add yet another ghost to the keep.”

  “Fair enough.”

  He followed the candlelight with Jane on his elbow until the hallway terminated in a small, windowless room devoid of anything but cobwebs and ancient memories. “Here we are standing in the darkness. Now, we must return to the light.”

  “No, Adam.” He glanced down to find candlelight shining in her eyes. “We must offer a prayer as the letter instructs.”

  “I’m not sure that is necessary.”

  She smiled. “Afraid of a little prayer?”

  “Of course not. I have prayed prolifically and fearlessly since childhood. But perhaps you might demonstrate your invocational expertise.”