Dietmar examined her key. “The top of the key is merely decorative. The blade, or the bottom, is unusual. I need to figure out how the two locks are warded or blocked, ensuring that only the correct keys work.”

  Simon bit back a sharp reply. Had he paid for this man to travel over land and sea to repeat what he already knew?

  Dietmar opened the lock on the left with Cecily’s key. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to protect the contents of this box. Since you’ve shown me the drawing of the second key, I should be able to forge one like it. However, the design of the second may differ from the first. The length and width of the blade are very different. It might take many attempts for me to get the correct measurements. I’d need at least a week or two. However, I can’t stay here that long. I have obligations elsewhere in your country and then must head back home. After I return to Germany, I’ll make several keys and send them to you.”

  Simon’s bit back a curse. That could take months. “Thank you. What’s another delay after scores of years? I’ll await delivery of your keys.”

  “We’re not finished yet, Simon,” Cecily said as Dietmar packed up his satchel. “Do you have any theories about the relevance of ‘earth’?”

  “Auf Wiedersehen,” Dietmar called as he left. They bid him farewell.

  “We don’t know if whoever drew the key meant the planet or soil,” Cecily continued. “If my mother was the artist, it’s likely soil.”

  Simon’s head snapped up. “Your Gran’s garden has soil.”

  “Yes. Where would we begin the search? Gran would be angry if we dug up the entire plot. We’d destroy many plants. And we need the vegetables, which are aren’t yet ready to harvest.”

  “Let’s at least take a look. If need be, I could purchase any vegetables and herbs you’d lose.” He didn’t look happy about that idea. Perhaps because he’d have to dig into his hard-earned savings. “Unless you have a better plan.”

  “No.”

  Simon’s sisters came down the stairs wearing light wool gowns. Each wore a silver chain with a different pendant. Melisant’s had a rectangular sapphire. Nissa’s bore a round ruby. Annis’s was an oval amethyst. She marveled at Simon’s remarkable talent on display.

  Cecily put aside the fleeting wish that he’d make one for her.

  “We thought we heard you, Cecily.” Nissa welcomed her with a wide smile. “It’s warm, but such a lovely day. Perhaps you’d like to join us for a walk?”

  The time had come to help them as she’d promised. “I’d love to, but your brother and I are on our way out. How about tomorrow?”

  They nodded agreement.

  She looked forward to seeing them again. It had been too long since she’d enjoyed the company of women near her own age.

  The sun beat down on them as they entered the herb garden, vegetables and flowers bordered by a shoulder-high stone wall. Gran was right that all was dry.

  A vision of her mother picking a white rose from the bush her father had planted to the right of the door, then putting it in her hair and laughing, briefly whisked her back to her childhood.

  Suddenly, Cecily drew a breath. She pointed frantically because excitement kept her from spitting out the words.

  “The Madonna be praised,” Simon breathed.

  They hurried up the narrow, dirt path to a statue beneath the apple tree in the far, right corner. The Virgin Mary.

  As a young girl, how many times had Cecily looked into those sad eyes staring up to the heavens and wondered what Mary was thinking? Her palms faced upward, the right hand in front of the left. The top of her head reached Cecily’s waist. Never would Cecily have thought to dig beneath her.

  “Do you have a spade?” Simon asked, impatience clear in his tone.

  Cecily ran into the house and hurried out with a well-used one in hand. She set it on the ground.

  Together they slid Mary to the left.

  “Dear Mary,” she whispered as Simon dug. “If you’ve been guarding the second key all of these years, please accept my gratitude. Please help us open the box.” And please help me know what to do next.

  The spade hit the hard earth again and again, sending clumps of dirt flying. Sweat broke out on Simon’s brow. After a few inches, the spade hit something hard.

  She gasped and dropped to her knees.

  “It could be a rock,” Simon cautioned. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  She peered into the hole. “I doubt it’s a rock. It looks like wood.”

  After a few more jabs with the spade, he said, “Another box.”

  “Just what we need,” she jested. “Let us pray we can open this one easily.”

  Carefully, he dug around the small container until she could lift it free. Something rattled inside.

  Cecily blew off some soil. “One keyhole. Fortunately, we have one key.” She held their discovery in one hand while getting the key from her pocket.

  The lock opened easily.

  They shared a triumphant smile.

  There was another key inside the box. The blade had an opening shaped like a cross with the long side perpendicular to the shaft.

  “The second key!” they exclaimed in unison.

  “Good, sir, do I have your permission to get my hopes up now?” she asked.

  “You do.”

  They laughed. The first true laugh of his she’d heard. She loved the carefree sound.

  They hugged each other passionately. Having his body against hers and his arms around her, felt so good. So right.

  She relished the tender moment but knew she should pull away. They’d clung together longer than a congratulatory embrace should last. As she leaned back, he met her gaze. She knew that look. The burn of desire. And couldn’t deny she shared it.

  Slowly, he bent his head. All she had to do was take a single step out of his arms. But she didn’t want to. She wanted him to kiss her. To keep the pressure of his hard body against hers and his strong arms holding her close.

  And to be desired by him, even for just this moment.

  Their lips met.

  “Cecily,” he said softly.

  His tone, his touch, made her thirst for more.

  She slid her hands into his hair as the kiss deepened. Pulsing warmth spread between her legs. He’d awakened desires she’d thought long dead. As when spring brought the earth back to life, her body felt eager to flourish. But the more she cared, the more she could lose if he didn’t want more. Or if he did and some dire fate befell him.

  Each let go and backed away.

  Despite their differences, Cecily liked Simon too much. The rush of emotions was more intense than she wanted. How could she lessen their growing intimacy?

  The warmth lingering in his gaze intrigued and confused her.

  “Let’s try to open the box,” he said.

  “I hesitate to disrupt our joyous moment, but you wouldn’t have found the second key without me. I believe we should share equal portions of whatever treasure is inside the box.”

  “Let’s see if the key works first.”

  The intimate mood was broken, and the loss left an ache in her chest.

  Fortunately, Gilbert was in his office when they returned. He seemed as eager as they to see if the second key served a purpose.

  The first lock opened as it had before. Cecily inserted the second key.

  The soft sound of the second lock clicking open might be the most pleasing sound Simon had ever heard. Well, except for Cecily’s laugh. And her soft moan when they’d kissed. The strength of his desire had surprised him. But then, he hadn’t kissed a woman in so long.

  Focus, Simon.

  Their gazes met in momentary elation and unity.

  “After all we’ve been through, there’d better be something valuable inside,” he said.

  Anticipation of what they’d find and the satisfaction of long-awaited accomplishment mixed with sorrow that his time with Cecily was coming to an end.

  Though he’d awaited this moment for decades, her face captured his interest more than the box…her slightly raised brows, the corners of her mouth lifting in anticipation. He noted her pretty fingers as she touched the wooden container.

  The lid stuck at first, then creaked as they opened it together.

  At last. Vindication for generations of his family. For him.

  Aged blue silk lined the lid. A bundle of rotted cloth, perhaps once brighter red, filled the inside. That’s why he hadn’t been able to hear anything rolling around when he’d shaken the box.

  Simon lifted out the clump of fabric, relieved to find it surprisingly heavy for its size. Carefully, Simon unwound the layers of cloth to expose a crumbling sack. He brushed bits of leather and dust away and carefully reached inside. He pulled out a jeweled chalice, finer than any he’d ever crafted or seen.

  The three stared in shock.

  “Magnificent,” Gilbert broke the silence. “And extremely valuable. The stones and the weight of gold alone shall bring a handsome price.”

  Gilbert was right. Even if he split the proceeds, Simon would likely have enough to dower two if not all three of his sisters. He’d achieve one of his most important goals.

  “Astonishing,” Simon whispered as he held it to the light. “This is no ordinary chalice. The artistry of the gold filigree scrolls on the base and stem is exquisite, especially for its time.”

  Round cabochon rubies and sapphires circled the center of the stem and larger, oval stones interspersed with a pair of tiny pearls outlined the rim. Large, curving handles featured stones and pearls. The cup itself was sardonyx, with bands of white and several shades of brown. A circle of small pearls surrounded the bottom of the cup. Five gold medallions on the base had been fashioned into images of men he couldn’t identify with the technique of repoussé, in which the goldsmith used tools to hammer and shape the gold from behind. Simon could restore the treasure to its full glory.

  “I’ve heard tales about King Arthur. This resembles the vessel I imagine the Holy Grail to be,” Cecily said. “Were those tales true, we’d have the perfect reason for our relatives hindering access to this.”

  “Those are but fables to pass time on a long winter’s night,” Gilbert said.

  “I don’t think this was crafted in England,” Simon observed. “The large size tells me it might’ve been used to administer wine for Holy Communion.”

  “What will you do with it?” Gilbert asked.

  Still in awe at their discovery, he glanced at Cecily. “I’d like to learn more about it before we decide. If you agree, Cecily, I’ll make an appointment with Julian Newby, a warden of the Goldsmiths’ Company and local guild master. He’s the most experienced goldsmith I know.”

  “Very well.”

  After they thanked Gilbert and exited the building, Cecily asked, “Did an unusual chalice ever come to mind when you wondered what the box held?”

  “I predicted a relic of some kind. But one of this value—I am at a loss of words.” He’d jump for joy if they weren’t surrounded by people on the street.

  “I always assumed my mother’s seal was a chalice under an oak tree, but perhaps it’s an apple tree. Coincidence, or another clue about what she knew?”

  “Interesting, but I doubt helpful.”

  “Where can we secure something of such great value?”

  “I trust Gilbert not to tell anyone. No one else knows what we have. I’ll take extra care when carrying it, then lock it in my safe at my shop.”

  “I’ve never seen a safe.”

  “I’ll take you to you my shop soon. In the meantime, do you trust me not to sell the chalice?”

  “Yes, Simon, I do. But I don’t trust that we’ll come to an agreement on what to do with it.”

  Chapter Six

  The next day, on her way to Simon’s house for the promised walk with his sisters before she and Simon took the chalice to the guild warden, Cecily hoped she hadn’t misplaced her trust.

  How easily might he succumb to temptation or the belief he owned the chalice outright and keep it for himself? After their first meeting, he’d asked to keep her and her key under his roof. Should she ask to stay with him now that much more was at stake? She’d have to ensure her part in the venture.

  When she arrived, the sisters were sitting at the table. Annis watched Nissa and Melisant play a game on a board using black and white discs. Their laughter and good-natured bickering over a move was an experience she’d lacked as an only child.

  “Interesting,” she said.

  “Nine Men’s Morris,” Annis explained. “You seek to form rows of three while keeping your opponent from doing the same. When you do make a row, you remove one of your opponent’s pieces.”

  “It’s harder than it looks,” Melisant added.

  “We need a game for three people,” Nissa said. “Taking turns requires too much patience.”

  “Where should we go today?” Annis asked.

  These women needed to have more to worry about than what games they played and where they’d go for a walk. Had they already finished their chores, or didn’t they have any? Would they have the ability to run a household once they found husbands? To that end, why hadn’t any of them wed already? They all looked old enough.

  Perhaps Simon had made their lives too easy.

  Then again, who was she to judge when she hadn’t done anything to improve her own? She was getting too involved with Simon and his family. Starting to care, when neither Simon nor his sisters’ welfare were her concern. Only an equitable decision about the chalice should be her concern.

  Simon sat in his place at the head of the table, writing on parchment. As he had when she first entered his hall. His handsome features and confidence drew in her every time she beheld him.

  “I doubt we’ll be too long,” she said after they exchanged greetings.

  His gaze remained on his work. “I’ll await your return.”

  What did he think about her getting to know his sisters? What did he think about her?

  After making their way through the crowded streets in the late July heat, Cecily and the sisters strolled through St. Saviourgate, not far from the River Foss and celebrated for its lovely gardens. They chatted about their newest gowns and how they chose styles and colors. Suddenly, she yearned for something pretty to wear. To be more carefree.

  Pink, white, and lavender flowers waved in the breeze. Usually, gardens gave her a sense of peace and calm, but today thoughts of Simon prevailed.

  She hadn’t had friends for some time. Despite herself, she welcomed the conversation and the connection they were forming. But as soon as they finished discussing the issue at hand, they could turn around so she could be with Simon.

  He was becoming too important to her.

  They sat in a circle on a patch of long grass beneath an oak tree.

  “Where do we begin?” Annis asked.

  “I don’t like that we’re going behind our brother’s back, even if it’s for his benefit. He works too hard and rarely smiles,” Melisant said.

  Nissa added, “Nor has he displayed any interest in marriage. He’s said we’re to be his heirs, but we want nieces and nephews. Perhaps we shall get some?”

  All three looked at Cecily, their green eyes intent. “What about you, Cecily? Don’t you wish for a husband?”

  “I was married once and lost my husband and child in a fire. I don’t wish for that kind of pain again.” She hadn’t talked about her lost family in so long. What purpose would it serve but to stir up the sadness that had finally settled.

  “But what of love and happiness? Nissa asked.

  “A man to care for you?” Melisant asked.

  “I did love my husband in my own way. I fear true love is not something I’ll ever find. But we’re not here to talk about me.” She’d rather help them than dwell on the past. “When you tried to tell Simon of your wishes, how did you do so? Individually or united as a group?”

  The three exchanged glances.

  Melisant’s cheeks pinkened. “We probably pleaded and whined a bit.”

  “Perhaps more than a bit. I even cried the last time.” Nissa twirled a blade of grass with her fingers. “But then, I am youngest.”

  “We’re all grown now. That excuse only worked when you were a girl,” Melisant retorted.

  They’d confirmed her assumptions. “You know Simon far better than I, but my guess is he doesn’t respond well to the three of you at once. Perhaps you could try a practical approach. Present your views reasonably and calmly, one at a time.”

  All three seemed to acknowledge her advice as they leaned forward.

  She warmed up to her plan. “Perhaps you can convince him that making choices keeping your hopes in mind will also benefit him. Each of you should concentrate on your aspirations rather than blame or accuse Simon of being selfish or closed to your ideas. If needed, I’m willing to help.”

  All three brightened.

  “What a wonderful idea,” Melisant said.

  “If only we’d have thought of this years ago. We can start afresh as soon as we get home—think of what we shall say to him,” Annis agreed.

  “Do not become overly confidant. You must realize there’s no guarantee he’ll grant permission for any of you to have your way. I encourage you to find the strength to be gracious whatever he does,” Cecily cautioned. “At least you’ll be sure he listened to what you had to say. And mayhap, you’ll plant seeds in his mind that flourish in your favor in time.”

  Melisant clapped her hands. “Do you mind if we return home now? I’m anxious to get started.”

  “Not at all,” Cecily answered with a smile.

  They hurried back to Simon’s house. As they turned up the short stone path, Cecily said, “Let me know when you’re ready and we can discuss your ideas. And practice explaining them.”

  “Oh, Cecily. I’m already happier now that we’re making on a plan.” Annis smiled. “And taking matters into our own hands.”

  She could benefit from her own advice. Now it was time to prepare for her talk with Gran.

  Julian Newby’s office was similar to the attorney’s, though a bit more elegant owing to the display of gold candlesticks, silver and gold plates, and chalices on a shelf behind his table.

 

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