Page 44 of Lord of Fortune
“Oh, let me see. About forty years ago—1777 or 1778, I think.”
“How long had the dagger been hidden in that cave?” Penn wondered aloud.
“Since about that time. I can’t say for sure. Jon wrote to me about the man bringing it to him. He asked what he should do with it. I said he should bring it here, to the Ashmolean, of course.” His brow darkened. “But someone ransacked his house shortly after that. Jon was certain they were looking for the dagger. Hearing about his journal entry from twenty years before that, it’s clear he knew about the Order of the Round Table.”
Amelia frowned. “It’s also clear, at least to me, that he didn’t trust the Order.”
Burgess nodded in agreement. “It certainly sounded that way from the journal.”
Amelia glanced at Penn, but her question seemed to be for Burgess. “Do you think the Order ransacked his house looking for the dagger?”
“It’s possible,” Burgess said with a shrug. He looked at Penn. “You know as well as I do the Order is unpredictable. I’ve no idea what they would and wouldn’t do—it seems to change depending on who’s in power.”
“Do you know who that is?” Amelia looked between the men.
“We don’t.” Penn had tried to find out, but it was, perhaps, their most closely guarded secret. If Septon was to be believed, evenhedidn’t know who the Prime Chevalier was. Penn turned his attention back to Burgess. “Is that when Gardiner hid the dagger?”
“I don’t know exactly when he did that. I only know that he never brought it to the museum. When I asked him about it, he said it had been lost. I didn’t know if that meant someone had stolen it or…” His voice trailed off. “I didn’t hear another word about it until I received your letter, Mrs. Forrest.”
“In which he told you exactly where it was located. But not why.” Her tone was edged in frustration.
“That’s correct. Another mystery that’s lost to us now, I suppose.”
Penn didn’t like unsolved mysteries. His mind turned back to the book. He just knew Foliot had it, that he’d stolen it during the fire ten years ago. “I’d like to talk about the book for a moment—the White Book of Hergest. Gardiner wrote in his journal about his frustration at not being able to read it. I’m convinced that’s the book he meant. What do you suppose that means? Was there something in a language he didn’t know? Or was it something else?”
“I’ve no idea,” Burgess said. “And unfortunately, the book is lost now. It burned in a fire in London some ten years ago, I think?” He looked from Penn to Amelia and back again.
“Yes, we’re aware of that.” Penn darted a glance at Amelia, silently communicating not to say anything. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Burgess. He didn’t trust the factions at work here—the Order or Foliot and his Camelot group. Gardiner had been afraid that knowledge could be dangerous, and Penn didn’t disagree.
“Can you think of anything else I should know?” Amelia smiled at Burgess. “I do appreciate your time.”
“Of course, my dear. I was quite fond of Jon.” He pushed himself up from his chair and went to the bookcase behind his desk. Scanning the shelves, he selected a slim tome and went to hand it to Amelia. “I’d like you to have this. Your grandfather transcribed it for me. It’s a collection of French poems from the fifteenth century.”
Amelia opened the volume carefully. Her lips curled into that soft, devastatingly beautiful smile again, and Penn’s gut clenched.
She looked up at Burgess. “Thank you so much. I will cherish it.”
He beamed down at her, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m delighted.”
Penn stood. “Thank you for your time this morning, Burgess.”
“My pleasure, my boy. I’m terribly sorry about what happened with the dagger. Is there any chance at all of recovering it?” He gazed at Amelia with sympathy. “I’m sure it pains you to have lost your grandfather’s artifact.”
“It does.”
Penn offered his hand and helped her up from the settee. “I’m not certain we’ll be able to get it back, but we will try.”
“If anyone can, it’s you, Penn.” Do let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”
“We will, thank you.” Penn guided her from the office and outside into the bright sunshine. He steered her to the left down Broad Street.
“I’m more confused than ever about my grandfather,” she said, frowning.
Penn wasn’t sure what he’d expected to glean from Burgess, but he’d come away from the appointment with even more questions. He tried to be optimistic in the face of his own disappointment. “We did learn a few things. I think we can surmise he used whatever he found in the White Book to find the heart.”
“And yet there was something in the book that he felt held answers. Answers he wanted to find. What could that be?”
“I don’t know. We need that book.” Determination hardened inside him. It was a familiar sensation that drove him on every one of his quests. This would be no different. Except for the fact that the book was likely in the possession of a dangerous group.
