Part 20 (1/2)
And since it appeared that his men were sorely in need of remounts.
Though clearly vexed at his failure to turn up news of the renegades, de Sautre did accept the offer of their horses with a modic.u.m of grace, and shortly rode on toward Perth with only two of his men now mounted double.
The afternoon stretched on, with no sign of Wallace. Meanwhile, rumors were rife of John Balliol's imminent surrender. Toward dusk, Luc came to the stable loft where the pair had been dozing, to pa.s.s on the sifting of news that had drifted in during the course of the day.
”How long do we dare to wait?” Luc asked. ”You don't suppose anything's happened to him?”
”I devoutly hope not,” Arnault replied.
”Maybe we ought to go ahead and make the switch tonight, whether he shows up or not,” Torquil said.
”We could temporarily hide the real Stone in the hay down below-or even set off in the direction of Dunkeld tonight, by a lesser route, and hope to make the contact later. Not knowing what the English are doing, I'm nervous about leaving it here any longer than we must.”
Both he and Luc looked expectantly to Arnault, who thought a moment and then nodded.
”You're right. We'll pack up our gear and provisions and make the subst.i.tution tonight,” he decided. ”If Wallace hasn't arrived by the time we've done that, we'll hide the true Stone in here and wait another day. We'll give him until tomorrow night-and if he hasn't come back by then, we'll head in the direction of Dunkeld on our own. I'm sure that a word from Abbot Henry would gain us a few days' sanctuary there; and if Wallace does show, Abbot Henry can tell him where we've gone.”
Torquil nodded. ”I'm happy enough with that. I just don't want to stay here and do nothing.”
Luc went off to acquaint Abbot Henry with their change of plans. It was agreed that they would meet at the church just past midnight, when the short summer night would be at its darkest. Luc returned to the ringing of the Vesper bell, with a basket of provisions over his arm, and the three of them knelt down in the hay of the stable loft and recited the office together with quiet pa.s.sion, for they knew not when they might meet again.
Afterward they shared a light meal of bread and cheese and a little ale, each man alone with his thoughts.
Arnault and Torquil armed themselves then, in the padded gambesons and leather hauberks of ordinary soldiers, and Luc kept watch while the other two dozed, for sleep would be increasingly precious once the Stone was moved from the crypt.
The shadows gradually lengthened and dusk finally began to fall. It was two hours past Compline, and not yet fully dark, when the abbey gate briefly opened to admit a big man on a borrowed Templar horse.
Wallace immediately disappeared in the direction of the abbot's quarters; and as soon as a groom had dealt with the horse and gone away again, the three came down from the loft, Luc and Arnault quickly saddling two fresh horses from the abbey stable and Torquil harnessing the big draft horse with the pack saddle, m.u.f.fling the hooves of all three horses with rags. Very soon, Wallace joined them.
”Thanks be to G.o.d!” Arnault exclaimed in a whisper, as the big Scot slipped into the stable. ”You're not a moment too soon! We must move the Stone tonight.”
”Aye, I've just been to see Abbot Henry,” Wallace said. ”I'm sorry if I've cut things a bit fine, but I think I've found what we need.”
”You can acquaint us with particulars once we're away from here,” Luc said, urging him and Arnault toward the door. ”Start s.h.i.+fting the stones. Torquil and I will finish with the horses.”
Arnault and Wallace slipped across the abbey yard to find Abbot Henry waiting for them in the shadow of the church porch, a s.h.i.+elded lantern in his hands as he met them by the pile of stones hiding the block of fieldstone chosen to stand in for the Stone of Destiny.
”I've sworn the gate porter to secrecy,” he informed them in an undertone. ”Barring some mischance, no one else should know of this.”
It was the work of a few minutes to slip a stout leather carrying sling around the designated stone and, with the aid of two carrying poles, for Arnault and Wallace to heft its weight onto their shoulders and s.h.i.+ft it indoors. The abbot lit the way for them as they picked their way carefully down the steps into the crypt.
There they exchanged the fieldstone block for the true Stone, Abbot Henry lingering briefly to blacken down the subst.i.tute while Arnault and Wallace used the same sling apparatus to carry the Stone itself back up the stairs. It was much larger by half than the subst.i.tute stone, and commensurately heavier, and even Wallace was trembling with the strain by the time they got it out to the yard.
Torquil was waiting with the big draft horse that would have the honor of conveying the Stone. Only by dint of his help and that of Abbot Henry-and much grunting and wincing-were they able to s.h.i.+ft the Stone onto the pack saddle; for they must heft the Stone higher than their heads. Abbot Henry came with them as far as the cottage where Luc waited with the cart and the two saddle horses, one hand resting on the Stone in its pack, obviously reluctant to part with it. When they had s.h.i.+fted it onto the cart, Arnault and Wallace tying sheepskins over it to cover it while Luc and Torquil hooked up the pack horse between the cart's traces, Abbot Henry gave the Stone a final pat and stepped back.
”G.o.d speed you, brothers,” he murmured. ”Even if this scheme of ours should ultimately fail, you Templars will have done more to secure Scotland's independence than King John ever has.”
”It is not alone for Scotland that we do this, Reverend Father,” Arnault said quietly, as Wallace vaulted up onto the driver's seat. ”You have, in the Stone, a treasure more precious than you know. Luc”-he nodded to their fellow Templar as he and Torquil took the reins of the two riding horses-”we'll send word as often as we can.”
”G.o.dspeed, all three of you,” Luc said. ”I wish I were going along, but someone has to keep an eye on what Jay and the de Sautres are up to.”
Arnault only snorted as he and Torquil mounted up.
”Unfortunately, I'll warrant we've not heard the last from them,” he replied. ”Father Abbot, we'll at least send word to you when this is finished,” he promised. ”I hope it won't be long.”
”I shall be waiting,” the abbot said, lifting his hand in blessing. ”Until then, may Saint Columba be your inspiration, and may G.o.d hold you in the hollow of His hand.”
The summer sky was already paling in the east as they left the abbey behind and joined the road toward Dunkeld. In the next hour they began to pa.s.s a few fellow travelers, but the emptiness of the road was notable. It was as if the whole region were holding its breath, like a frightened hare immobilized beneath the circling shadow of a hawk.
”I'm beginning to know this stretch of road all too well,” Torquil muttered above the creaking and rumbling of the cart's heavy wheels.
”Be grateful for small things,” Wallace replied. ”At least we have a road-for now.”
No one commented on the clouds beginning to build in the east, for the prospect of rain was a daunting one, added to the already arduous task before them. Keeping a wary eye on the weather, they entered the fringes of Birnam Wood, speaking but little, and then in low voices. A mile farther on, at Wallace's direction, they left the Dunkeld road and struck out westward along a rutted woodcutter's track, following that until they entered a tiny clearing traversed by a thread of running water.
”We must leave the cart here,” he told them, as he jumped down to unhitch the horse pulling the cart.
After bringing the big draft horse alongside, they s.h.i.+fted the Stone to its back and secured it, then overturned the cart to make it look abandoned. Wallace then headed down the little rill, which soon became a narrow burn, leading the horse with the Stone. The two Templars followed with the other two horses, carrying the poles and sling for the Stone.
They trudged along this muddy track for the best part of an hour, no one speaking, as other rivulets joined the one they followed and they eventually were obliged to s.h.i.+ft to a narrow, stony track beside what was now a shallow but swift-running stream. The big pack horse could go only slowly, because of the weight of the Stone, and dropped its head gratefully as they halted where another, larger stream joined in from the right side.
”Now we turn upstream,” he said, pointing. ”There's a cave on up that glen, maybe another half mile. It's on the other side, but we can cross farther up. For the last few hundred yards, we'll have to carry the Stone.”
Neither Arnault nor Torquil could summon any response save to press on.
They left the two saddle horses there, tied to a tree, and followed along with the poles and sling as Wallace continued on, still leading the horse with the Stone. From beyond the next bend in the stream, the sound of fast-flowing water recalled an incident both Templars preferred to forget, but they reached the fording place without incident and tethered the horse to a tree.
Uncovering the Stone, they fitted the sling and slipped the poles in place so that they could lift it out of the pack saddle. Then, shouldering their heavy burden, with Wallace on one end and the two Templars on the other, they eased their way down the bank and waded knee-deep, testing their footing with every step. The temperature was brisk under the overcast sky, but all three men were sweating by the time they reached the other side.
They set the Stone down on a patch of sand and paused to catch their breath. Pointing ahead, Wallace marked the place where the stream emerged from a ravine. The overhanging banks were sheer, but an old rock fall had left a narrow strip of exposed rock between the stream and the right-hand cliff wall. The Templars eyed the prospect with obvious misgivings, but Wallace flashed them a rea.s.suring grin as they picked up their burden again.
The footing grew ever more precarious. Suspended from poles in their midst, the Stone was like some wayward pendulum, threatening at any moment to throw one or another of them off balance. With agonizing slowness, they edged ahead by inches, never s.h.i.+fting one foot until the other was firmly planted.
Beside them, the stream was becoming a cataract, its swift-running waters ever ready to turn a misstep into injury or even death.
So engrossed was Arnault in minding his footing that he didn't realize they had reached the cave until Wallace signaled a halt. Only then did he raise his eyes to the dark, triangular rift in the cliff face, about eight feet above the streambed. Access looked just possible by way of a jagged ledge slanting up from the water's edge.
”It's easier than it looks,” Wallace a.s.sured them between gasping breaths.
Arnault's shoulder muscles were burning by the time they gained the cave entrance. Torquil's face was scarlet with exertion, and even Wallace was looking strained. They eased the Stone's weight to the cave floor and stood there panting for several minutes, bent with hands braced on knees, too winded to speak.
Torquil was the first to recover. The failing daylight filtering in through the opening did not penetrate far beyond the entrance.
”How far back does this go?” he asked Wallace.
The big man grinned. ”This is just the anteroom. There's a larger chamber beyond this one. It's round, like a Templar church-wee, but you'll like it. Give me a moment and I'll strike a light.”