Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
They approached Winchester only once night had fallen, the better to avoid any police patrols.
According to Thomasin, the Metropolitan Police of London had enough reach now that news of their wanted status would have traveled to most towns.
Luckily, they didn’t pass a single soul as they crept through the alleyways.
When they entered the courtyard of the Great Hall, their boots echoed on the cobblestone.
The building of tan stones and gray mortar that surrounded them on two sides was all that was left of a once-sprawling castle.
The rounded arch of the door leading into the hall was at least a story high.
The map had led them to this very spot, and Edith felt more than foolish.
She should’ve recognized the strange X symbol on the map right when she first laid eyes on it.
Instead, it hadn’t clicked in her mind until she’d realized that the village of Winchester was their destination.
It was common knowledge that hanging in the Great Hall was a massive oak table meant to pay homage to King Arthur’s Round Table.
Edith wasn’t naive enough to think it was the real thing.
After all, this table hadn’t been made until the thirteenth century, and it hadn’t been painted until the fifteenth.
But it could have been created to mark the hidden location of a clue.
Edith’s grandmother had always theorized that there could be a group of people who passed down the secret of the quest, guarding the path of Avalon and making sure that the trail of clues was not lost to time, or the rise and fall of civilizations.
What if this very castle had been built to protect the clue?
And what if the imitation Round Table was the X that marked the spot?
There was only one way to find out.
Thomasin’s hand closed around the curved handle. Her wrist twisted and—it was locked.
“Yeah, I’m not sure why we thought that would work,” Thomasin said.
Edith backtracked a few paces to where she had nearly stumbled on a loose cobblestone.
Her stomach was fluttering with nervous excitement.
Thinking of her grandmother always made a queasy sense of urgency come over her, reminding her of how far behind she was.
Edith refused to spend even a second more waiting.
She wriggled the tips of her fingers underneath the stone and wrenched it free from the ground, dirt puffing up in a cloud to settle on her boots and the hem of her skirt.
She walked over to the window next to the entrance and smashed the stone into the glass.
“Jesus!” Thomasin whisper-shouted as Edith used the rock to break away the shards of glass until there was a hole large enough for them to duck through. “I’m supposed to be the impulsive one,” Thomasin said, but she was smiling as she jumped down from the steps that led up to the door.
Edith shrugged. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“Let’s just hope you didn’t bring the police down on us,” Jay chimed in.
Yeah, she hadn’t really thought that through. Instead of letting on to that fact, she just said, “It won’t matter if you all hurry up and get inside.” Edith swept an arm toward the broken window.
Worthing climbed through first, followed by Jay, who could barely squeeze his burly frame through. Thomasin kicked a leg over the sill and said to her, “I like impulsive Edith.”
She ducked her head under the ragged edge of glass and disappeared into the shadows.
Edith smiled, feeling her cheeks heat at the compliment.
She couldn’t believe she’d damaged a historical site and was now about to commit trespassing.
She really hoped these weren’t the original windows.
A moment of guilt washed over her as it occurred to her that she might have destroyed something of historical significance.
She also spared a thought for the laborer who would be stuck with the task of repairing the window.
But the guilt was gone as quickly as it had come.
Sacrifices needed to be made in the pursuit of noble truth, and Excalibur was of far more historical value than some window. Besides, it wasn’t even stained glass.
The windowsill rose to just above Edith’s hip, and so her climb through the window was much less graceful than the others’ had been. Thomasin was on the other side, though, and she took Edith’s hands in her own, helping her down from the window.
It was a new moon, and with how dark it was outside, the broken window wouldn’t be noticeable unless someone saw it up close. Winchester was a sleepy little town, and she didn’t foresee too many midnight strolls. They should have until dawn to find the clue and make their escape.
The Great Hall was a cavernous, rectangular chamber with high vaulted ceilings that rounded to meet in the middle. On either side of the room were lines of sturdy columns that rose into the ceiling and connected to an array of wooden rafters.
Their footsteps were far too loud against the stone tiles as they made their way through the hall.
Halfway to the other side, they passed towering windows that stretched from ceiling to floor.
The stained glass windows depicted a series of crests, one for each pane.
The shields were rendered in rich blues and vibrant reds.
In any other place, Edith’s attention would have been trapped by the artwork.
But there was something far more magnificent that drew her gaze.
At the end of the hall, hanging on its side so it was flush with the stone wall, was the Round Table.
The legs were no longer attached. Only the tabletop remained, displayed like a painting.
It was nineteen, maybe twenty feet in diameter, and loomed over the space, as if in this room, the ideals that the Round Table represented mattered above all else.
Edith was right. The X on the map was a minimalistic rendering of the painted table.
At the center was a Tudor rose, the inner ring of petals white, the outer red. The rest of the table was painted in alternating wedges of green and white. Written in an elegant script, the names of twenty-four knights bordered the circle, one for each wedge.
She drew closer, until she had to crane her neck to look up at it.
There was a self-aggrandizing portrait of King Henry VIII perched above the rose.
Edith didn’t think that had anything to do with the quest. It was likely painted there to appease the monarch’s ego.
It was a beautiful piece of work, though.
“What do we do now?” Thomasin asked, coming up next to her.
Edith nodded up at the Round Table. “This matches the map. It must be the clue.” The problem was that it hung against the wall about ten feet above them. “We need to find a way to get up there so we can examine it closely.”
“I can climb it.” Thomasin brushed a casual hand across the cobblestone wall, her fingers curling into the shallow divots between the stones.
“There’s no way,” Edith objected. “Not even you can scramble up a wall like a spider.”
Thomasin arched a brow at her. “Is that a challenge?”
“No!” Edith said, but Thomasin was already at the wall, searching for a foothold.
She found one shockingly quickly, shrugged off her leather jacket, and began to climb.
Her feet found purchase in ways that seemed to defy physics, and her nimble fingers gripped the curves of stone with unbelievable sureness.
Edith swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry, as she watched Thomasin’s tattooed, muscled arms. Her forearms and biceps flexed every time she pulled herself up to a new hold.
She thought of those strong arms holding her gently after she’d been shot by the arrow, of Thomasin’s long, powerful fingers combing through her hair, replacing her bandages with the utmost care.
She thought of Thomasin pinning her to the ground while they sparred, holding her in place like it was nothing, of her hand wrapping around the back of Edith’s head when she swiped her legs out from underneath her, taking care to cushion her head as she fell.
There was something about the gentleness with which Thomasin treated Edith, in stark contrast to the rugged strength of her, that made Edith’s insides melt.
Jay cleared his throat next to Edith, and she roused herself from her thoughts with a sharp shake of her head.
Her eyes refocused on Thomasin, who was staring down at her with a bemused smile.
“You still with me?” She was balanced on one of the L-shaped wooden pegs that supported the table, both her feet only just fitting on the narrow plank.
Edith forced her lips into a smile. “Nice work!”
Thomasin gave her a peculiar look, then nodded her chin toward the Round Table. “Now what?”
“Um … just look around for anything strange, a switch or lever, or … anything,” Edith finished stupidly.
Thomasin reached for the rose, pushing up on her tiptoes.
Edith inhaled through her teeth when she wobbled.
Thomasin steadied herself with a palm pressed flat into the table, her fingertips just brushing the outer edge of the rose.
The toned muscles of her upper back and shoulders rippled as she stretched her arm up as far as possible.
“Careful!” Edith shouted as Thomasin shuffled her feet so that they were just barely hanging on to the edge of the peg.
Thomasin ran her fingers across the petals, searching for any oddities. Her hand stilled as it crossed the center. “It’s a button!” she shouted down at Edith, her voice breathy with sudden excitement.
Edith watched eagerly as Thomasin pressed the pistil of the rose.
It gave with a soft click, and then the entire rose swung open like a door on a hinge.
Thomasin reared back as the wooden circle swung toward her, knocking her off balance.
Edith leapt forward, arms readying to catch her, as if that would do any good.