Page 32 of Always
“Keeper of the keys?” Felicia asked. “For what purpose?”
“The legend says the keys unlock an ancient treasure that once belonged to the wealthiest and wisest king who ever lived, a man by the name of Solomon.”
I’d never heard of such a king. Then again, my education had consisted only of what would help me become more skilled in warfare.
“God appeared to King Solomon in a dream and said, ‘Ask for whatever you want, and I shall give it to you.’ The king could have asked for anything he desired, especially wealth and a long life. But instead of these things, he replied, ‘Give your servant wisdom and discernment as I govern my people so that I may be able to distinguish right from wrong.’”
Felicia nodded at Sister Katherine’s retelling of the story as though she was familiar with it.
Sister Katherine continued. “God was so pleased with the king’s answer that he replied, ‘Not only will I give you the wisdom you have asked for, but I will also give you what you have not asked for: wealth and a long life.’”
“So the keys unlock a treasure left from the days of King Solomon?” Felicia asked.
“That is the legend, but no one knows for certain.” Sister Katherine tucked the key into a pocket beneath her habit. “Rumor abounds that the treasure was brought to our Great Isle during ancient times to keep it safe from barbarians. Past kings have searched for it. Some have claimed that the quest for the Holy Grail is really the pursuit of an ancient treasure. Whatever the case, there are no definitive answers.”
I shifted my weight, my leg hurting even though we hadn’t yet begun our journey. “Then you believe the existence of these three keys lends evidence to the rumors of an ancient treasure?”
“It is possible,” Sister Katherine remarked, drawing her cloak closer about her and shielding the princess from the night air, which was thinner and colder in the Highlands.
“King Francis said the keys would one day help the princesses regain the throne,” I said, attempting to understand how an ancient treasure might aid the princesses. Would the treasure be vast enough to allow the princesses to buy the services of a large army, one that could rise up and destroy Ethelwulf?
“Maybe King Francis was referring to a prophecy in the Book of Dierum,” Sister Katherine replied. “A prophecy foretelling a young ruler filled with wisdom who will use the ancient treasure to rid the land of evil and usher in a time of peace never before seen or ever seen again.”
“We will pray King Francis is correct,” said Sister Agnes, who rocked Princess Maribel back and forth. “In the meantime, each of the princesses shall keep one of the keys with her in hiding. And someday, when the time is right, perhaps the prophecy will come to pass.”
“For now,” Sister Katherine said, giving her mule a nudge, “we must make sure the princesses survive. The ancient treasure will do them no good if they are not alive to find it.”
I nodded and reached for our mule’s lead rope. It was time to go. Time for each of us to do our best to make sure the princesses disappeared so Ethelwulf would believe they were dead or gone from Mercia. There would be opportunities later to sort out the role—if any—the keys might have in putting a new ruler onto Mercia’s throne.
For now, though, we had enough worries, especially that of making it through the coming night alive.
Chapter
13
Lance
I wanted towalk and allow Felicia to ride the mule. Yet soon enough it became apparent my slow, stilted steps would hinder our flight from the Iron Hills. I loathed myself for having to ride the mule while Felicia was forced to traverse the steep, rocky climb down the mountain on foot.
But I cared too much for her to let my pride stand in the way of our escape. She led the way while I sprinkled the nun’s special powder of mountain essence and prayed it would keep Ethelwulf’s men from tracking our scent.
By the deep hours of the night, we’d finally reached the foothills. Rather than heading south and entering Inglewood Forest from the east, I’d made the choice to cross the remote regions of the foothills and enter the forest from its western edge, as far from Delsworth as possible.
We kept to desolate paths, veering far away from any town or village. The more isolated we stayed and the fewer people we encountered, the better we’d fare. Speed was no longer necessary so much as invisibility.
As dawn broke, I located a grove of hawthorn bushes near a clear brook, and we made camp for the day. Safely hidden among the brush, I still could not rest easy. So I took charge of Emmeline while Felicia fell into an exhausted sleep. As she slumbered, I caught several fish but didn’t dare start a fire until nightfall so that darkness masked the plumes of smoke. Only then did we eat a quick meal of fried fish and hawthorn berries. After covering any evidence of our fire and presence, we packed up and moved on.
We journeyed for seven nights before reaching West Moorland, bypassing each of the Iron Cities. We didn’t encounter any other travelers save a lone shepherd as well as a goat herder from whom we’d purchased a goat so we’d have milk for Emmeline. Even with so little contact with people, I insisted we travel only at night.
Purple heather, long grass, and sedge covered the rolling hills which were home to all manner of small game. I had no trouble hunting hare, grouse, or weasel. Bilberries, rosehips, and dandelions were also plentiful.
Each day, my wound healed and I gained strength. With the aid of my cane, I walked more often, even though at times the pain was unbearable. Felicia protested less to riding as the lack of enough proper food and the strain of our journey took its toll.
During the trek south, the openness of the moorland made me jittery, even under the cover of darkness. I drove us harder and faster, wanting to reach the edge of Inglewood Forest. The distant howls of coyotes churned fresh fear in my gut, and I prayed Ethelwulf wasn’t hunting us with coyotes now instead of wolves.
My hope was that Ethelwulf’s men had chased the false trail the nuns had offered and in doing so lost all indication of where we’d really gone. So far, it seemed they had. Though I might never know if Sister Agnes and Sister Katherine had succeeded in out-maneuvering Ethelwulf’s men, I never ceased praying for them.
Through all the hours of praying, I’d come to realize perhaps weaker men had an easier time praying than strong ones. In all the years I’d relied upon my own strength, I hadn’t needed God’s. Now I was coming to understand the truth of my father’s claim that God’s grace and presence shine the strongest in our humblest moments.
