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Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
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.A year ago, he had thought such proof lay nearly within his grasp.But foully betrayed, he had failed to capture it.Still, it was his experience that one could always create new opportunities.One merely had to keep one’s eyes open to the omens and prepare for eventualities.His new ship, the Serpent Royal, was such a preparation.As he finished the last document, a minion rapped to announce a visitor.“The Chevalier de Gredin, my lord.”Stunned to hear the name, especially in view of the path his rambling thoughts had taken, Fife nodded permission, pushed the documents aside, and watched narrow-eyed as the chevalier entered and made him a sweeping bow.Etienne, Chevalier de Gredin, ten years younger than the earl, was more colorfully if not as richly attired, and clearly fancied himself a dashing fellow.He carried a document with a half-dozen red wax seals appended to it.Straightening, his green eyes on the earl, he said coolly, “You are doubtless amazed to see me, my lord, but I bring you word from his holiness, the Pope.”“Do you? I thought you’d fled to the north with your tail between your legs.”“But no, my lord, only to learn what I could there.However, with none but Norse ships and those of my host available, it was impossible to communicate with the Pope or with my friends in France.So I returned to the Continent, and I am to tell you now that his holiness still supports your endeavors and means to supply ships to aid you.With your kind permission, I am to remain here with you as his envoy.”“As his envoy or as my hostage?” Fife inquired mildly.“It must be as you wish, my lord,” de Gredin said, kneeling submissively.“We both still seek the same goals, to seize the Templar treasure, return it to his holiness, and to see you take your rightful place as High King of Scots.”Letting him remain on his knees, Fife gave the situation brief thought.The Knights Templar, having served as the Pope’s own army, and protectors of pilgrims to the Holy Land during the Crusades, eventually rose to become trusted bankers to the world and guardians of the world’s most sacred and most valued items, and thus had amassed enormous treasure.But at the beginning of the present century they had fallen afoul of Philip IV of France and his tame pope, who named them heretics and forced the disbanding of the hitherto highly respected Order.However, when Philip tried to seize their treasure, he found that it had vanished.The Templar treasure had been missing now for nearly seventy-five years.Holy Kirk had claimed ownership, and the present Pope, apparently believing that at least a good portion of the treasure had somehow made its way to Scotland, had twice sent men to find and reclaim it—so far, unsuccessfully.De Gredin was the Pope’s man.Therefore, his return was clearly an omen.Fife’s sole interest in the treasure lay in a single item that he believed formed part of it, and that, thanks to an informant, he had reason to believe truly was hidden in Scotland.So if de Gredin and the Pope needed his aid to find the treasure, he could certainly turn that need to his own good.After all, even if they failed to find the treasure, papal support alone might be enough to tip the balance his way when the time came to persuade Parliament that he should be King.He had no liking for de Gredin, however, and glowered as he said bluntly, “You betrayed me last year.Why should I trust you now?”Still kneeling, the chevalier held out the sealed document he had brought with him.“Read this, my lord.Then decide what you will.”Holyrood Abbey Woods, Tuesday, June 4, 1381A faint ring of ripples forming around the hitherto motionless fishing line was the first indication from below of any interest in its neatly baited hook.Holding the pole gingerly, nineteen-year-old Lady Sidony Macleod stared at the rings as they expanded and multiplied in number.For at least an hour, she had been sitting on a low, flat granite promontory that jutted into the long, narrow loch without seeing a single fish, although the burly, gray-haired gardener who had lent her his pole had assured her the abbey’s loch teemed with them.Now she wondered if she should pull up her line.She did not really want to catch a fish, anyway.She had only taken the pole because it had seemed to lend a greater sense of purpose to her stolen walk than mere escape.Having a fish as proof of that purpose might be useful, but having to carry one would be a nuisance.Her older sister Sorcha had always carried any they had caught on such expeditions at home.“Are you sure I’ll catch one?” she had asked the gardener.“Och, aye, m’lady,” he’d assured her.“Likely, ye’ll catch a fine salmon or trout for your breakfast.”Sidony had found it impossible to refuse so kind an offer, so she thanked him and accepted a small pot of earthworms as well, to use for bait.Then, crossing the three back gardens between Clendenen House and the woods, and slipping through the hedge boundary, she had strolled among the trees, lady ferns, and flowers, finding the ground annoyingly boggy.But soon she had come upon the glassy, dark-green loch, and its serene beauty had drawn her, making her forget the muddy ground.With gray sky overhead and trees growing to the water’s edge, the loch darkened outward from a grayish green color in the center to a raggedy line of black shadows near the shore, where surrounding trees reflected off the mirror-like surface.The temperature was mild, and the woods seemed unnaturally still.Sidony had followed the loch shore until she had come upon the jutting granite slab.After slogging through muck, the gray-and-white rock looked invitingly dry and clean.Her boots were heavy with mud, and the hem of the blue kerseymere skirt she wore with its matching tunic likewise bore evidence of her trek.But it was an old dress and not one she cared for.She had put it on to play with her fourteen-month-old nephew, because it would save any finer gown from grubby hands or spills.Baiting her hook was easy, thanks to similar expeditions with Sorcha near Castle Chalamine, their home in the Highlands.As she pictured the castle and its nearby tumbling burn and dense green shrubbery, a sigh escaped her lips.She had been away from home for more than a year—too long.Tears welled at the thought, and one spilled down her cheek just as the pole jerked hard in her hand.Gripping it tight in both hands, she lurched awkwardly upright, trying to avoid falling into the water, stepping on her skirts, or losing the fish.Larger than she had expected, it did not want to be caught and was fighting so hard that she wished she had not caught it at all and wondered if she could just extract the hook and let it go.In a similar instance with Sorcha, her older sister had said the fish would die anyway, and might linger in pain for days first.So at last, as it lay flopping feebly on the granite, Sidony picked up a rock and resolutely ended its life.Staring at the dead fish, she grimaced and looked for a length of ivy she could 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