who left me for dead is not enjoying the hospitality of the house.’
The reminder of the attack finally silenced Guy and Nicholas looked out over the moors, assessing the possibilities. ‘There’s really no means of approaching the place without being seen unless we wait until nightfall, and even then the moon will prove both help and hindrance,’ he said, remembering the stretch of open land that they would have to cross to reach the cluster of buildings. It was simply too barren, with few trees to provide shadows in which to hide.
‘There might be another way.’
To Nicholas’s surprise, ‘twas Emery who spoke and the boy coloured, as though regretting his speech.
‘Go on,’ Nicholas said.
‘It could be nothing but an old legend,’ Emery said, hesitating.
‘What old legend?’
Again Emery hesitated, but Nicholas urged him on with a nod.
The boy drew a deep breath, as though summoning his courage. ‘There have always been rumours of tunnels beneath the Templar property, going back to when they first settled there.’
‘Tunnels? What for?’ Guy asked.
Emery shrugged. ‘No one knows. Perhaps the Templars sought to travel from their preceptory to the village without notice. I can’t imagine where else they would wish to go in secret.’
Guy muttered something and crossed himself, obviously leery of either the Templars, underground passages or both. But Nicholas knew the value of tunnels. He had gained access to his brother Dunstan’s keep through just such means, foiling the enemies who held it. Castles, built for defence, often had escapes routes for use in times of siege.
But ’twas unlikely that a manorial farm, especially an ecclesiastical property like Temple Roode, could boast anything of the sort. Yet, what else had they to do until darkness fell? ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ he said, eager for a challenge.
Guy groaned. ‘And how are we going to discover in an afternoon what no one else has ever found, maybe for a hundred years?’
‘As far as I know, no one has ever looked for them,’ Emery said. ‘Why would they?’
Guy shook his head, as if dismayed by the folly of both of his companions, and muttered to himself in dire tones, ‘More likely, who would dare?’
Emery felt only dismay as they neared the village. What had she been thinking? While they wasted time hunting for tunnels that probably didn’t exist, Gerard could be travelling in the opposite direction, putting miles between them. She should never have spoken.
But who would have thought her opinion would carry weight with any man, let alone Lord de Burgh? Emery had forgotten how differently she was treated when garbed as her twin. It had been too long ago and she had since learned to keep her silence. So what had possessed her to speak, especially in such exalted company?
Emery shook her head. Nicholas de Burgh rode his huge destrier with ease, tall and proud, his gloved hands gripping the reins confidently. He was a noble, wielding the kind of power and influence that should strike fear into anyone pretending to be someone else. That, coupled with her brother’s warning, ought to have kept her quiet and wary. And yet …
Emery glanced away from the handsome figure and told herself ‘twas distrust of religious houses that had prompted the suggestion. She could not call it back now. But when they drew to a halt on the low rise that overlooked the village below, she was tempted. Where were they to find underground tunnels amongst the cluster of small homes, with people and animals roaming about?
Emery waited for some sign of scorn or rebuke from her companions, but Lord de Burgh appeared unperturbed as he looked out over the landscape. ‘Now, if you were a Templar, where would you want to go?’ he asked.
Blinking in surprise at the question, Emery turned to study the village she had not seen in some time. For a moment, the years fell away, and it seemed as though she were young and at liberty to explore the moors, Gerard at her side. And in that instant, the answer came to her.
‘The church,’ she said.
Lord de Burgh’s smile of approval made Emery glance away, uncomfortable. She realised how long it had been since she’d felt pleasure or companionship, but this was not the time and place to seek such things. Nor was Nicholas de Burgh the one to provide them.
Emery was here for Gerard, not for anything else, yet she could not help but savour the first small taste of the freedom that she had known in years. She was riding again, seeing new places and experiencing new things, and her heart pounded with a combination of fear and excitement as they approached the distinctive round building.
‘What kind of parish church is this?’ Guy muttered, eyeing the place warily as he dismounted.
‘I suspect it was built by the Templars, who favour that sort of construction,’ Lord de Burgh said, heading towards the doors.
‘‘Tis probably modelled after the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem,’ Emery added, but her words did seem to comfort Guy, who appeared hesitant to enter.
Emboldened by her new freedom, Emery strode past the squire to follow Lord de Burgh inside, but her courage soon wavered. Plunging into the cool dimness, she was met with an interior unlike any other.
In fact, Emery took a step back in astonishment, running into Guy, who gulped and grabbed her by the arms, whether to steady her or himself, Emery wasn’t sure. But for a long moment they stood together while gaping at the elaborate decorations. Although the number that crowded the small space was startling in itself, ’twas the strangeness of the designs that stunned Emery.
While she could not claim to be well travelled, she had never seen such carvings in any church, and, apparently, neither had Guy, for he resumed muttering in hushed tones, frozen in his position near the doors. But Emery finally moved forwards, peering in wonder at the images that appeared more heathen than Christian.
Heads that resembled pagan designs or some remnant of ancient legends were scattered amongst more traditional adornments. Emery blinked at the bulbous face of the Green Man, a symbol of fertility that some say had been worshipped in years past. And everywhere were horned figures that looked more like demons than saints.
‘What kind of parish church is this?’ Guy asked again, his voice cracking in the stillness.
‘An unusual one, isn’t it?’ Lord de Burgh said, drawing Emery’s attention. He, alone, seemed undismayed by the sights as he walked the perimeter, pausing only to knock on a wall or peer behind a decorative panel.
‘What are you doing?’ Emery asked, curiosity overcoming her unease.
‘I’ve some experience in tunnels—and in hideaways, having played at seeking my brothers often enough in my youth,’ Lord de Burgh said over his shoulder. ‘And one of my brothers, Geoff, is fond of puzzles, so he taught me how to study a problem.’
Emery was startled to realise that the great knight really was searching for the rumoured tunnels. ‘But wouldn’t the floor—?’
‘Too obvious,’ Lord de Burgh said, stopping in front of a carving tucked under an arch. ‘And unlikely because of the difficulty
