The Last de Burgh. Deborah Simmons
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 in concealing such an entrance. However, they would need to be able to access their passage without too much trouble, else why create such a massive work?’
When he turned towards her, Emery could only nod in agreement, struck dumb to be included in such a conversation. She knew her disguise was responsible, yet Lord de Burgh was being more than gracious to an unknown young man, and her wariness made her wonder whether he had an ulterior motive.
As Emery watched, he knelt before a grotesque image, running his hands over the surface and into the crevices along the edge as though searching for something, and soon he must have found it, for the massive piece moved slightly. Emery blinked in surprise, but even more amazing was the glance he shot her, one of triumph and shared success that stopped her breath.
Perhaps ‘twas the way of men and their friendships, Emery thought, and held no special meaning. Yet she could do no more than look on while he shifted the heavy chunk of stone as if it weighed little, exposing a gaping hole beyond. Cool, damp air seeped from pitch blackness, hinting at lower depths and, stepping closer, Emery could see a set of worn stone steps leading downwards.
The discovery even lured Guy away from his stance near the doors. He was soon standing beside Emery, muttering to himself. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said aloud. And then he turned towards her, his eyes narrowing. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘I knew only of the rumours of a tunnel,’ Emery said. ‘Lord de Burgh managed to find it.’ And he had done so with seemingly little effort, which made Emery return Guy’s suspicious glare with one of her own.
‘How do we know that this doesn’t lead into a bottomless pit?’ the squire asked.
‘We don’t,’ Lord de Burgh said. Apparently undisturbed by the prospect, he set about lighting a lantern he had found tucked away behind a screen.
‘My lord, you cannot mean to enter there,’ Guy protested. ‘You don’t know what lies below: foul air, rising water, precipitous drops. It may be an old cavern that has been blocked up, with no connection at all to the Templars or their property.’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Lord de Burgh said. The mischievous grin that accompanied this sentiment made him look younger and dashing, perhaps even a bit wicked, and Emery found it hard to ignore his excitement, which stimulated her own. Was that why her heart had picked up its pace?
‘You can stay behind and watch the horses, if you don’t care to explore the tunnel,’ Lord de Burgh said, with a shrug, though it was obvious he had no intention of doing so himself.
Guy sputtered a protest, but was silenced by a look from his master, who then turned to Emery. Although he said nothing, expectation brightened his dark eyes, and Emery felt a sudden giddiness. Had Gerard ever offered her such a dare? Emery couldn’t remember, but years of being stifled by duty and silence made her meet the unspoken challenge.
‘I’ll come with you.’
Lord de Burgh’s answering grin did something to her that Emery could not explain, but she told herself ‘twas wiser to keep an eye on the man rather than not. However, Guy had other ideas.
‘My lord, you cannot think to take this—’ the squire began, gesturing towards Emery. But Lord de Burgh held up his hand to stop any argument, leaving Guy to shake his head as his master ducked into the hole. ‘Be careful, my lord,’ he warned.
There was nothing for Emery to do except follow Lord de Burgh. But when she stepped on to the stone stairs, she drew in a sharp breath at the sudden change in her surroundings. The familiar figure of Guy standing in the dim recesses of the church was replaced by a blackness so total that she blinked several times before she could see anything at all. Finally, she spied the faint flicker of the lantern, barely visible ahead.
Having no time to regret her hasty decision, Emery hurried forwards, lest the pale talisman disappear from view. But she had not counted upon the shape in front of her and stumbled into the tall form of Lord de Burgh.
‘Steady,’ he said, turning his head towards her. ‘Some people don’t do well in tight quarters, especially below ground. My brother Simon, for all his courage, is one, and there is no shame in it.’
Emery wasn’t about to argue, for she could not find her tongue. Lord de Burgh’s face was so close that she could see the thick, dusky lashes of his eyes. The lantern cast a glow upon his cheek, a beacon of warmth in the cool darkness. And when his gaze met hers, Emery’s heart began pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it.
Like an animal in the glare of a lamp, Emery was powerless to look away, her breath faltering, her pulse racing. Then something flared in his eyes, a question perhaps, but if so, it was one that Emery could not answer. Time stood still as their gazes held until, to her relief, he finally turned away.
Shuddering, Emery was glad of the shadows as she sought to control her clamouring senses. Thankfully, Lord de Burgh appeared little affected by what had seemed so momentous to her because he soon spoke over his shoulder.
‘Watch your feet,’ he said as he resumed walking. ‘The Templars might have laid traps for unwanted visitors.’
Traps? Emery felt as though she had already fallen into one, as she belatedly realised the intimacy of the situation. Neither a past spent with her father and brother, nor her recent isolation, had prepared her for the experience of being alone in the dark with a man, let alone a man like Lord de Burgh. Panic stirred, and it was not the fear of being unmasked, now a very real possibility, or even the dangers of the tunnel that chilled