Oracles of Delphi Keep (16 page)

“No, my lord,” Ian said quickly. “It’s just …”

“Just what, lad?”

“I’m not sure where I should go,” he admitted, feeling a blush hit his cheeks.

“To the table with the rest of us, of course,” said the earl kindly. “It’s been at least a day since you’ve eaten a solid meal, am I correct?”

Ian smiled broadly, feeling a rush of relief as he walked forward. “Yes, my lord, and thank you,” he said.

As he was about to pass, the earl caught him gently by his good shoulder. “Ian,” he said, turning the boy to face him, “after we hunt this beast down, we’ll need to talk about the writing on that cavern wall.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ian said, vigorously nodding. “I’d like to find out why my name was there too.” What he really meant was that he wanted to put an end to the prank that had so obviously been played on him.

The earl smiled down at the lad. “Very well, let’s not waste any more time getting to the table, then.”

The pair entered the dining hall together. Ian had been to the castle many times before but had never dined formally with the earl, so he was suitably awed by what he saw before him. An impressive room, long and narrow with mahogany paneling, intricately carved molding, and seating for twenty at the enormous rectangular dining table, presented itself. As he surveyed the spread of food, his mouth watered at the sight of so many delicious-looking dishes. He searched the group already seated, wondering where he should sit, when the earl gently nudged him in the direction of an empty chair next to Ciaran’s son Alfred.

Once the earl was settled, the hunting party dug robustly
into roast duck, potatoes thick with gravy, steamed turnips, and warm fresh bread. Ian devoured his meal and to his delight was offered a second helping of everything. He polished that off too, along with a dessert of raspberry cobbler.

“Did you get enough to eat?” asked Alfred with a grin.

“Yes, sir,” said Ian, leaning back in his chair and giving a pat to his wonderfully full stomach. “That was the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten.”

Then Alfred noticed the silver frame Ian had laid face-down on the table. “What’s that you have there, Master Wigby?”

“Oh,” Ian said quickly, reaching protectively for the photograph lest Alfred want to take it from him, “that’s a family photograph of one of my friends, Theo. She’s also an orphan at the keep. The photo is of her mother and her as a toddler.”

“May I see it?” Alfred asked curiously, and Ian had no choice but to hand the photo over, as to do otherwise would have been impolite. Alfred took the frame and inspected it with great interest. Ian noticed with regret that the gentle-man’s face seemed to fall and his lips thinned out in a scowl of distaste. “I know this woman,” he said softly.

“You do?” Ian asked with surprise.

“Yes. As I recall, her name is Jacinda Barthorpe. She at-tended St. Barnsworth School for Young Ladies and she went with my roommate for a time. She dropped out of St. Barnsworth and the social circles of London eleven years ago, about the time her parents were killed in a terrible motorcar accident. I haven’t heard mention of her, in fact, in these past eleven years.”

“Really?” said Ian, genuinely excited about being able to tell Theo a name and a bit of history about her mother, especially since he had no such tantalizing tidbits of personal information about his own parents.

“Yes,” said Alfred as he laid the picture down and wiped his fingers as if they were dirty “I’m afraid to say that Jacinda had a rather
sordid
reputation,” he added, his mouth turning down even further.

“Sir?” said Ian, unsure of the gentleman’s meaning.

“Never mind,” said Alfred. “It’s best that if your friend from the orphanage doesn’t already know about her mother’s reputation, you keep her blissfully in the dark.”

“I see,” said Ian. “Just one question, however, if I may?”

“What’s that?” asked Alfred, turning back to his dessert.

“Do you by any chance know what happened to the lady’s husband?”

Alfred gave Ian a mirthless grin. “Jacinda was never married, Ian,” he said. “I’m afraid your friend’s paternal lineage is somewhat in question.”

“Oh,” said Ian, finally understanding what Alfred was alluding to. “I see.”

The orphanage was full of children born to unwed mothers too ashamed of the scandal it would cause to raise them, and although no one had ever told him for certain, he often wondered if this was the reason he had ended up at the keep too.

“As I said, you’d best not mention that part to your friend when you give her the photograph. She’s better off not knowing.”

But Ian wasn’t sure that keeping Theo in the dark was a
good idea. In all the time he’d known her, Theo had mentioned her mother only once, and that was when she was six. Ian had overheard her asking Madam Dimbleby about a terrible dream she’d had of her mother getting lost in a storm and Theo being unable to find her. Theo had admitted that the dream had sparked the faintest memory of her mum and she had wanted to know if the headmistress knew whether the dream was real and what had actually happened to her mother.

Ian remembered Madam Dimbleby’s gentle voice as she told the girl that her dream was part of a real memory, that her mother had been killed in that violent storm but a kindly man from the village had rescued Theo from a similar fate and brought her to Delphi Keep, where he knew she would be well cared for.

Ian remembered that night as well, and the stranger who had brought Theo to them had mentioned only that Theo’s mother had abandoned the child out in one of the fields. Ian knew that the headmistress had been trying to be kind by telling Theo that her mother had died. It would have been far more difficult for a young girl to digest that her own mother had simply abandoned her, leaving her to the mercy of the elements.

But Ian wondered if Theo was better off knowing the truth: that her mother’s fate was unknown. He knew that most of the children who had been brought to the keep as babes had never been told the circumstances of their arrival. The headmistresses believed that unless a child specifically asked about how he or she came to be orphaned, it was best to leave it unsaid.

Ian understood too that many of the children who hadn’t asked held secretly to a hope that their parents were alive and would someday come to the orphanage in search of them. Ian knew this because he was one of those children. After thinking about what he should tell Theo, he found that he couldn’t make up his mind, so he reasoned that he would sleep on it and decide what to tell her at breakfast.

While Ian sat lazily in his chair, his eyelids became droopy. He thought it might be improper to excuse himself from the table before the others had polished off their desserts, so he did his best to keep his eyes open and his head from bobbing forward, but it was a sincere struggle given how tired and content he felt. When he could barely hold his head up a moment longer, he heard his name being called from across the table.

This of course caused him to snap his eyes open and sit up straight as he searched for the speaker. He looked first at the earl and noticed that both he and Ciaran were looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry?” he said, darting his gaze between them, unsure which one had called his name.

“I asked if I might have a look at your box,” said Ciaran. “The earl tells me you discovered it in that second cavern.”

“Oh!” Ian said as he fumbled clumsily with the artifact on the table beside him. “Yes, of course, sir. By all means have a look.”

He handed the box to Perry, who was sitting closest to Ciaran, and watched as it made its way to the portly man. “My heavens,” said Ciaran as he turned the box round and round. “What an odd item to turn up in an underground cavern.” Ciaran then squinted as he looked closely at the
seam between the lid and the box, then gently attempted to pull the lid open, but without success. He then shook it gently, and Ian knew that Ciaran could tell something moved inside, just as Ian had already observed.

“I believe it’s Grecian,” said Thatcher smartly. “There is some lettering in the engraving that appears to be ancient Greek.”

“Just like the writing on the wall,” suggested Alfred as he leaned against Ian to look at the box in his father’s hands.

“Do you know how it opens?” Ciaran asked Thatcher, and when the schoolmaster held out his hands for the box, Ciaran handed it over.

Thatcher inspected it closely and he also attempted to pull up on the lid, but to no avail. Then, as Ian watched anxiously, the box was passed from person to person around the table to be inspected and shaken. Many attempts to open the lid were made—all of them unsuccessful.

While the box was making its rounds, Ciaran looked at the earl expectantly. “Don’t you wonder, Hastings, about all of this?” he asked. “What I mean to say is that I find it a bit strange that this young lad found a lost tunnel, which it appears no one has been in for centuries, with
his
name scrawled on the walls in ancient Greek, a language he’s clearly unfamiliar with. And further, while locating this treasure box, the lad unwittingly let loose a giant ferocious beast bent on killing him and anyone else who might step into its path.”

“What’s your point, Ciaran?” the earl asked curiously.

“Well,” replied the man, “I suppose what keeps niggling at the back of my mind is that all of these extraordinary
events might somehow be connected. Take for example that pile of rocks we found separating the beast’s lair from the second cavern, where Ian found his box. Those stones were obviously placed there by human hands, which makes the barrier’s placement rather curious, don’t you think? Why would anyone construct a barricade that would prevent them from making a hasty exit if they needed to?”

Ian furrowed his brow. He was having a hard time following Ciaran. “What I mean to say,” the earl’s friend continued, “is that access from the cliff’s face where we found the beast’s lair to the two inner caverns was purposely blocked off, but what I can’t think of is why. Why would someone wall themselves in like that? It makes no logical or strategic sense to cut off an escape route through the tunnels should an enemy come in after you from behind.”

The earl squinted at Ciaran. “I hadn’t considered that until you mentioned it, my friend,” he admitted. “But perhaps the wall wasn’t meant as a barricade against getting out of the caverns; perhaps it was meant as a barrier to prevent someone from entering the caverns from the cliff’s face. Perhaps it was an attempt to keep the box safe from would-be looters exploring the caves along the cliffs.”

“Yes,” Ciaran said. “Or perhaps there was another reason.”

“Like what, Father?” asked Alfred.

“Well,” answered Ciaran, his pasty complexion flushing with excitement. “I’m wondering about the Greek writing on the wall of the first cavern we encountered—the one we entered into from aboveground. It clearly indicates that the author
knew
that Ian would come into that cavern first, not
last. Whoever put that writing there seemed to be certain that Ian would not attempt to enter the caverns from the cliff’s face as the natural path of the tunnels and caverns would suggest he would. How could this mysterious person be so certain that Ian would find a small hole in the ground covered by thick vegetation and work his way into that first cavern from aboveground?”

Ciaran looked round at the group at the table. They were all silent as they contemplated his question. When Ciaran’s eyes settled on Ian, Ian shrugged. He had no idea.

Ciaran nodded solemnly, as if he’d proven his point. “Clearly whoever left the box for Ian to find had a rather acute prophetic sense and he might also have known that when Ian discovered the box, he would need time against an unseen danger to retrieve it. Perhaps the stone barricade was meant to keep out not only looters, but a terrible beast as well.

“So the question I have to ask is why?” Ciaran continued. “What is it about that box that is so important that one of your orphans needed to risk his life to discover it? And does the box have any kind of link to this beast? These two extraordinary things—the discovery of an ancient Greek artifact here in Dover and the emergence of a legendary creature—seem to have only your young orphan in common, and the timing of both of these events is quite remarkable, wouldn’t you agree, Hastings?”

Ciaran’s interpretation hit Ian like a thunderbolt. He moved his attention to the earl, anxious to hear his thoughts. Deep in his gut, Ian knew that the beast and the box were linked. What he didn’t know was how or why.

The earl seemed to gather his thoughts, and by this time the box had been passed to him. Ian watched as he too turned it round and round and attempted to open the lid. “You know, Ciaran, you’ve got an interesting theory there,” he said, holding the box up to his ear as he gave it a gentle shake. “Clearly there’s something inside this box, but the lid appears airtight. Perhaps what’s within will offer us a good explanation?”

“My professor friend from Cambridge should be able to tell us about the authenticity of the box,” said Thatcher. “He’s a professor of archaeology and spent much of his time in Greece. I believe he might also be able to suggest a way of opening it without causing the artifact undue damage.”

Ian was quite relieved to hear that; he didn’t want the box ruined in an effort to get inside. Whatever was in there could wait as far as he was concerned. He just wanted to be able to sell his treasure for as much as possible, and he realized that keeping it intact and in good condition was important to retaining the value. That was the only thing thus far that had prevented him from trying to wedge it open himself.

“Well,” said the earl, handing the box back to Ian with a kind smile, “I had made up my mind that the beast was protecting its pups and that’s what provoked the attack on Ian and the orphanage. And I must say that although I do find it a particularly odd coincidence that someone fluent in ancient Greek would write Ian’s name upon the wall of a forgotten cavern, it still seems unlikely to me that this person would also know that the beast would be lurking within
a nearby tunnel when Ian finally came along to remove the box.