Chapter Twenty Four
Ian eased his broad sword from the scabbard strapped to his back before he took Jo’s hand, leading her behind him.
He was overjoyed by Jo’s happiness in knowing Thane was alive, and the affection Thane bore for her was evident in his eyes—Ian did not doubt how well he loved her.
Still, Jo’s mother would never have cautioned her so strongly against returning to Toonan if she hadn’t believed the danger to be very real.
No one could guess what ill might await them, and he was not going to let his guard down until they were safely back at Haddington Abbey.
“My room is the final door on the left,” she whispered behind him.
When they filed into Jo’s chamber, he heard her gasp.
He turned to her, pulling her close. “What is it?”
Her gaze, glistening with unshed tears, darted around the room.
“I...” She clamped her hand over her mouth, fighting for calm.
At length she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
“This is where I last saw my father. It feels like a lifetime ago.” She crossed to her dressing table and picked up her silver comb.
“The lass that I was. I...I knew so little of the world.” A mirthless laugh fled her lips.
“When I think of what used to concern me, needlework, feast days, the excitement of a new tunic.” She scanned her chambers.
“I never knew hunger. I never understood the hardships faced by children left to fend for themselves or what few choices women had without a man to stand behind.”
Thane’s face was twisted with grief. “I blame myself for the hardships ye’ve endured. Had I been stronger, a warrior—”
Jo reached out and squeezed Thane’s hand.
“Do not blame yerself. Ye fought valiantly.” She straightened, standing tall.
“Anyway, the hardships I’ve endured have made me stronger.
They’ve broadened my mind and have given me a greater capacity for compassion.
” Then her gaze shifted, and she locked eyes with Ian. “Not to mention, love.”
A soft smile curved Ian’s lips. He kissed her tenderly before seeking Thane’s gaze. “Don’t forget,” Ian reminded Toonan’s steward. “Because of ye, Jo and her mother were able to escape the baron. If it were not for ye, they may also have seen the inside of a prison.”
Thane humbly bowed his head. “That will forever remain my one consolation.” When he looked up his eyes shone with pride. “Yer parents are smiling down at the woman ye’ve become.”
Jo took a deep breath. “I promise ye, Thane, when all this is, at last, put to rest, we will return and raise our people high.”
Thane’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “My heart has always known the strength of Clan Fergusson resides with its women—its mothers.”
Ian’s heart swelled at the sight of Jo’s joy. He did not want to rush their reunion, but he was also keenly aware that they were trying to avoid alerting anyone to their presence. “Jo, we mustn’t delay.”
Jo nodded. Determination furrowed her brow as she crossed to the chess set on a table by the hearth and scanned the pieces, taking in their arrangement on the board.
Her chest tightened when she saw that the pieces were in play, and she remembered that she and her father had started a fresh game the day before she’d been forced to flee his side.
Leaning over, she studied the pieces and their placement, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Then she bent at the waist and looked beneath the table, expecting to find something secured to the underside or tucked into the intricate carvings of the table’s legs. But there was nothing.
She looked up and met Thane’s gaze. “Have ye moved this table or any of the pieces?”
“Nay, my lady. The family’s chambers have been cleaned but not altered in anyway. Upon yer return, I wanted everything to be just as it was...well...as much as it could be, anyway,” Thane continued, his voice somber.
She knew what he’d meant. Nothing could ever be the same as it was at Toonan, not without its laird and lady.
She squeezed his hand. “Thank ye for yer care.” Then she turned and faced Ian, her heart starting to race.
“I thought for sure...” She gripped her head in her hands.
“I truly believed there would be something, some clue.” She offered up her empty hands.
“Why would those words be the last my father would ever say to me, if he wasn’t trying to tell me something? ”
Ian gently clasped her arms. “Take a deep breath. Try to calm yerself.”
She closed her eyes and did as he’d bade.
“Now,” he said, his voice soothing. “Think back. Can ye remember anything else?”
Keeping her eyes closed. “He took me in his arms. I was crying. He...he told me he loved me and to remember that time was the greatest gift anyone could give.”
“Keep going,” Ian urged. “What did he say to yer mother?”
Her brow furrowed with concentration. “He said that my mother...unlocked his heart. No.” She shook her head. “He said she unlocked his passion and...” Her eyes flew open. “She is his queen!”
Turning back to the table, she seized the white queen and examined the piece, spying a small notch on the bottom.” Driving her thumb nail into the groove, it popped off and a tiny scroll slid onto her palm.
Both Ian and Thane drew closer.
“I can’t believe my eyes,” Thane whispered, his voice reverent.
Her hands shaking, she unrolled the parchment.
“What does it say,” Thane whispered.
“An Ferbasach,” Jo read. Then she turned and looked at Ian. “The Conqueror.”
Ian’s brows drew together. “Kenneth MacAlpin, the first Scottish king, was known as the conqueror, but why does yer father write of him?”
Jo puzzled over the scrawled letters for only a moment longer before she turned to Thane and blurted, “The tapestry in the solar.” Shifting her gaze to Ian, she explained, “It depicts the final battle when the Gaels defeated the Picts during their last uprising.”
“We must hurry,” Thane urged them. “Supper will be finishing soon!”
Jo led the way to the solar, taking long strides, driven by the profound realization that she was carrying out her father’s work.
Unknowingly, she’d long been the keeper of her father’s legacy, and she was not going to let him down.
Even from Heaven, he was relying on her.
She glanced back at Ian, his hand still clutching his broad sword, and she was struck by how important that moment was, not just to her father, but to the cause.
She took a deep breath, her heart hammering with excitement—if they found the treasure, then Ian, Abbot Matthew, and Bishop Lamberton could rebuild Scotland’s army.
Her breath caught—Her king was counting on her!
Thoughts tumbled around in her mind as they hastened toward the solar door.
Once inside, her gaze scanned the tapestries, each one a celebration of one of Scotland’s great Kings.
“There,” she said, moving toward a massive tapestry that stretched nearly from ceiling to floor.
A bloody battle was portrayed between the Gaels and Picts, and at its center was a crowned figure, standing on a wide flat rock—the Stone of Destiny.
She lifted the tapestry away from the wall, peering behind it.
“Ye won’t find anything there,” Thane said.
“The castle was thoroughly searched by the baron. All the tapestries were taken down, including the one in yer parent’s chamber, which of course means that passage is no longer truly secret.
I almost had it filled in. I’m now relieved I decided against it. ”
Ian raised his brows. “Not as relieved as we are.”
Jo fervently nodded her agreement before disappearing behind the hanging tribute to Scotland’s first king, despite Thane’s discouragement. “There must be something,” Ian heard her mutter.
Turning about, Ian considered the room. “What is on the other side of that wall?”
Thane looked to where he pointed. “A small prayer room.”
Ian nodded and dropped his gaze, examining the rush-strewn floor. “What is below?”
“The kitchens, I believe.”
Ian crouched down and rolled back one of the thin woven rugs and ran his hand over the stones, brushing away the dirt. Something caught his eye. He wet the back of his thumb and wiped at one of the stone tiles, revealing minute lettering. Struck by a thrill of sensation, he called to Jo.
She stepped out from behind the tapestry. “What have ye found?” she asked, crouching beside him. Ian didn’t have to answer.
“Alba,” she cried, having spotted the carving, and dug her fingers into the groves between the stones. “I can’t quite fit my fingers under it,” she said, her voice strained as she pulled on the flat stone. Her arms went lax after several moments. “It won’t budge.”
“Step back,” Ian cautioned her. Fitting the tip of his sword into the groove between the slabs, he pulled down on the handle. Slowly the stone loosened, then gave way altogether, flipping over with a clatter.
“What do ye see?” Thane asked behind him as Ian peered into the hole.
“Only wood.”
“Look,” Jo said, lifting another tile with ease. “These have not been sealed.”
Together, she and Ian removed the surrounding slabs, exposing more wood.
She eyed the planks. “Do ye suppose we have to break through?”
Ian smoothed his hand over the wood. Where the tile with the carving had been was a hole.
Inserting two fingers, he felt around and grazed cool metal.
“I’ve found a latch. ‘Tis a door,” he said in a rush, catching Jo’s gaze, which glinted with excitement.
He undid the latch and the door dropped away, swinging down.
“A stairwell,” Thane exclaimed, standing above them, his hands resting on his knees.
Jo stood up, dusting her hands on her tunic. “Thane, lock the door. We do not want anyone entering the solar.”
After Thane slid the bolt in place, Ian stood and sheathed his sword before squeezing Jo’s hand. “Are ye ready?”
“This is my father’s work,” she beamed, nodding eagerly. “’Tis my duty.”
Ian seized a torch from the wall, then turned, climbing backward down the steep stairs as if a ladder. After his head dipped well below the floor, the stairs started to circle around and around.
“We have to be below the kitchens by now,” Thane said, behind them. “This passage must have been built in between the pantries.”
Ian reached the last stair. In front of him was a doorway.
He handed Jo the torch and unsheathed his sword, once more, before sliding back the lock and opening the door, his sword held at the ready.
Shadows cast by the torch light danced upon the stone walls.
The room was large and circular and empty but for a single chest in the center.
“Can it be?” Thane exclaimed crossing straightaway to a chest. He flipped back the lid and gasped. It was brimming with gold plates inlaid with gemstones the size of ripe black berries. There were bejeweled amulets on gold chains and bags of coin.
JO PLACED THE TORCH in a sconce, then hastened to join Thane at the chest. “I’ve never seen coins like these before,” Jo said after Thane opened one of the teeming purses and shook a few into his hand.
Ian peered quickly over Thane’s shoulder. “They’re Flemish made,” he said before he moved away and began to scan the surrounding walls, his brow drawn in concentration.
She stood straight. “Are ye all right?”
Ian nodded absently. “Check the other bags.”
She uncinched the ties. “Two contain Flemish coin and a third holds...French marks,” she said, recognizing the seal.
She set the coin aside and continued her perusal of the treasure.
“Look at this,” she exclaimed to Thane as he knelt next to her.
She held up a small crown, gleaming with emeralds. “I’ve never beheld such wealth before!”
“Nor have I,” Thane chimed in, easing a string of round, glossy pearls from beneath a gilded chalice. He beamed at her. “Just consider the many ways we can help our people!”
Jo threw her arms around Thane’s neck. “My father may be gone, but not his memory or his purpose.” A short laugh burst from her lips and she sought Ian’s gaze. He was still examining the wall. “The bishop did promise that if I journeyed to Haddington Abbey, I would find a purpose.”
Ian smiled. “I’ve no doubt this is the very purpose the bishop had in mind.”
Once again, her husband’s gaze returned to the wall.
She raised a brow at him. “I ken yer a man who values life’s simple pleasures, but we’ve discovered a fortune and ye’ve hardly looked at it.”
He started to circle the room, his gaze lifting to scan the ceiling, then dropping to the floor. “Give me just a moment, and I will join ye.”
“Look, my lady,” Thane said, drawing her gaze. He had a gold coin pinched between his fingers. “With just this, we can buy enough seed to plant every Fergusson field from the Eastern Slope to the western shore.”
“Oh, nay, Thane,” she said, correcting the steward.
“This treasure was not given to my father.
He was only made its guardian. ‘Tis not for our use. ‘Tis for the cause.” She scooped a handful of French marks. “This will make certain our lads, Scotland’s lads, have food in their bellies, armor on their backs, and horses upon which to charge into battle. With this treasure, Scotland will once again be free and proud.”
Thane smiled at her. “Ye’re just like yer father.”
Her heart swelled. “Thank ye, Thane.”
His smile vanished. “I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”