The Lion's Crown (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 1), page 10
They reached the bottom, and the knights instinctively drew their swords as they approached the castle. The wall facing the side of the hill had a decaying door in it, but it had clearly been battered open. The knights went through one by one and spread out as they entered.
Penny followed closely behind. An overgrown courtyard ran along the hillside wall. There was evidence of flowerbeds and planters, but only weeds and grasses grew there now.
To their left, the collapsed wall had fallen onto the buildings set against it, forming a high pile of stone rubble. It extended all the way to the edge of the central tower. On the right, the interior buildings’ walls were intact, but their thatched roofs were long gone.
Sir William pointed his walking stick at the square central tower. “The keep seems to be the most intact structure. If it’s safe, we’ll stop here for the night.” He pointed to the right. “Sir Stephen and Sir Alfred, explore around the side. The rest of you will accompany me.”
Stephen and Alfred angled off toward the buildings to the right. As Penny followed Sir William to the keep, she looked up at the tower. Judging by the windows, it was four stories tall. They went in through an opening where there had once been another door and stopped just inside. Looking up, Penny could see the sky. The upper floors and the roof were gone; a tangle of rotted lumber that filled the bottom chamber was all that was left of them. A stone staircase built into the sides of the tower led upward, but there was nowhere for one to step off once at the landings. There were no interior walls and no other doors leading out, which seemed to satisfy Sir William.
“Right,” he said. “We’ll clear an area and gather up some of this debris for firewood.”
Penny and George began moving the debris while William and Harold walked across it to the far end of the tower. The wood near the top was wet from rain, but there were timbers beneath the top layer that were dry enough for a fire.
“Hold!” she heard William call after a moment.
He came back and took the torch that was lying lengthwise across the top of his pack, just under the flap. “There are steps leading down,” he said quietly.
“I’ll start a fire,” said George.
Penny took Owen, and they sat against a wall as George built a fire in the center of the area they’d been clearing. As he struck his flint across the edge of his knife blade, the sound echoed up into the high tower. It was a lonely, eerie sound, and Penny felt a chill run down her spine. It was cool in the tower, and she’d be glad when the fire was lit.
Sparks struck the char cloth George had laid out next to a pile of wood shavings, and with a bit of coaxing, the brittle, gray wood finally caught.
“The three of you stay here and keep the fire going,” Sir William said as he lit his torch. He waited for Harold to light his then the two knights went back to the other side of the tower and disappeared down a hole.
The scrape of boots near the door startled Penny. “All clear,” she heard Sir Alfred call.
“There’s a dungeon,” George said as Alfred and Stephen entered.
The two knights looked toward the far end of the tower in time to see the top of a torch reemerge from the steps.
“What is it?” Stephen called to William.
Sir William was smiling. “Come see for yourselves!”
The other two knights began crossing the chamber. Penny looked at George.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll watch after Owen and keep the fire burning.”
Penny hurried after them and followed them down the steps. She reached the bottom and emerged into a round, stone-walled chamber that looked to be as large as the tower up above. The walls were made of the same stone blocks as the rest of the castle, but spaced evenly around the chamber were larger stone slabs. They had been polished to a high gloss, and the torchlight danced and shimmered off of them. There was an archway on one side of the chamber, and through it was a pitch black passageway that led deeper into the hill.
Penny walked over to the nearest slab. It was covered in some kind of writing. Accompanying the strange letters were carven images. “This isn’t,” she began, but stopped.
“Yes?” said William.
She took a breath. “This isn’t our writing, is it? It doesn’t seem to be.”
William glanced at Harold. “That’s right. It’s some other language.”
“What are these?” she asked.
“Based on the size of them, I’d say they were tombs.”
Penny pulled her hand away from the slab. “Then this is… a crypt? We’re going to sleep above a crypt?”
William looked concerned as well, but he took another glance around the chamber and nodded. “It’ll be safer than staying out in the open, and we have plenty of wood to burn.” He glanced at the archway. “But we’ll have to see how deep that tunnel goes. We all know what sort of thing likes to lurk in the shadows.”
Sir Stephen let out a gasp, and they all turned to see him looking closely at one of the slabs. “Bring a torch!” he called.
They crowded around him as he pointed to one of the carvings on the slab. “A lion,” he said softly.
Penny looked past Sir Harold’s shoulder. It was a large carving of a lion, and it filled the center of the slab. The strange writing seemed to begin at the lion’s open mouth and ran in an outward-spiraling ring around the creature, all the way to the edges of the slab. Across the lion’s body were vein-like carvings, and inside these lines were the remnants of a red paint.
“It’s the Ember Lion,” William said in a whisper.
“What does that mean?” Penny asked.
“It means that Edward the First’s account is true. It means the Emberlyn family is truly destined to rule.”
“Could these be the tombs of our land’s ancient rulers?” Sir Alfred asked. “It is said that all the known lands were once joined as a single kingdom. Edward the First hoped to restore it after he defeated Charles the Bastard and united the Eastern Kingdoms.”
“Then it was all ruled from here?” said Stephen. “From the Hobswood?”
Sir William seemed to have emerged from his reverie. “Well… perhaps. All this tells us is that these people, whoever they were, knew of the Ember Lion. It will be for others to decipher these symbols. We’ll need to record this.” He turned to Sir Stephen. “I believe you have an eye for such things. Copy the markings on this slab and at least one other.”
Stephen frowned but nodded. Penny didn’t envy his task. It would take hours to accurately replicate the symbols onto parchment.
William pointed his torch at the archway. “Now for that.”
Penny let the knights go through before following. William was at the lead with his torch, and Sir Harold, with the other torch, was just in front of her. The arch led into a narrow passageway. There were more slabs along the walls, indicating the presence of more tombs. She counted four on each wall of the passageway as they went. At last, the passage opened up into another chamber. This one was roughly hewn, but lying in exposed niches all along the walls were skeletons. The chamber stretched deep into the side of the mountain, and in the torchlight, she couldn’t see the end of it.
No one said a word. They stood clustered near the entryway to the chamber, watching the deepest recesses of the crypt for any sign of unusual movement. Finally, Sir Stephen let out a cry.
He pointed at the skull of the skeleton nearest them, and they all turned to look. Protruding from above the temples of the skull were two short, dully pointed horns.
The knights drew their swords as Penny stepped back into the tunnel and pressed her back against the slab of one of the tombs. She pinched her eyes shut and focused on the voices of the men as they whispered to one another. She heard them walking again, and the footsteps grew fainter. She risked another peek into the crypt. She saw the knights moving in pairs along the walls, examining each niche that they passed. She watched as the two torches angled toward one another and met at the far wall. She heard distant voices, and then the torches began growing brighter as the knights returned.
Sir William put his hand on her arm as they reached the tunnel once again. “Whatever these things are,” he said, “they are dead. They cannot harm us.”
Penny put her fingers against her temples. “Do they… do they all have…?”
William nodded.
“I want to go up,” she said.
“Of course,” said William. “We’ll look at these slabs for a bit longer then join you. If this language is even distantly related to our own, perhaps we can recognize some of the letters.”
Penny walked down the corridor and to the first chamber. She could see the dim glow from above illuminating the steps, and she hurried up them and crossed the tower back to the fire. “I’m going to go outside,” she said to George. “Keep Owen here?”
“Don’t go far,” he called as she stepped through the doorway.
She moved away from the tower and immediately felt warmer. In the planters, there were a few pretty flowers amongst the tangle of weeds, and she took a moment to focus on them. After her heartrate slowed, she wandered around to the side of the castle that wasn’t in ruins. The low stone buildings along the outer wall were empty, but she wandered into each one anyway. She guessed they had been barracks and storehouses. She made her way down the row of buildings, and as she came back out of the last one, she saw Sir William walking toward her.
“I told George about what we found,” he said as he reached her. “I offered to take him down to look, but he declined. We’ll keep Owen away from it, naturally.”
Even though she was standing in full sunlight, she felt a chill. She nodded and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms.
“Don’t be frightened,” William said, “We can cover the entrance to the crypt with debris.”
“Don’t you know what those were?”
“Demons?”
“Just like in the stories Mary Briar tells.”
“But they’re dead, Penny. They cannot hurt us.”
“But it means they’re real. They exist!”
William leaned against the wall of the nearest outbuilding and looked up at the tower. “And what do we truly know about them? Aside from the horns, the skeletons indicate that they look like us, at least in general shape. They buried their dead with great reverence. And we saw the Ember Lion carved on one of the slabs. They venerate the same creature as our own people.”
He gestured at the ruins around them. “And while they lived here once, it is apparent they haven’t been here for a very long time. We are safe here, Penny, safer than we would be out in the open.”
She sighed. “I suppose so. Still, they weren’t safe here, judging by the state of the place. Isn’t this an odd spot for a castle? It’s below that ridge we came down. I wouldn’t think they would want an enemy able to approach from above.”
“That is true,” William said, “but there are no war machines that could be hauled up that ridge. They could attack with bows, but after a certain point, they’d have to send men down those narrow steps. Then they would be easily picked off by archers in the castle.” He looked back at the steep hill behind them. “And we don’t know what lies to the north and east. Perhaps there were more fortifications, and it was believed that an enemy could never make it this far.”
“Someone did. And if no war machines could be brought up here, how did that wall get knocked down?”
“I… can’t answer that. But regardless, it happened long ago. If there were still people nearby, we would have seen signs of them by now.”
“Those tombs… do you think it means this was a royal residence?”
“It’s certainly possible. Penny…?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you read?”
She bit her lip and looked up at the tower.
“It’s only that you asked if those carvings were our language.”
“I can’t,” she said quickly.
“I thought you could, though. I’ve seen you looking through a little book once or twice when we stopped to rest.”
“I… I like the pictures. And the letters are beautifully painted. But I don’t know what they say.”
“There’s no shame in it,” he said. “I know people even of my station who read poorly. But if you like, I could teach you.”
She looked into his eyes and bit her lip. “Why?”
William swallowed. “Because we’re friends, remember?” He kicked at a loose stone on the ground. “And I’ve put you and Owen in a great deal of danger. I want to do some kindness for you in return.”
“George can read,” she said. “He could teach me.”
“I saw him trying to read the order from the king,” William said. “Perhaps he can read, but not well. Not well enough to teach it.”
Penny lowered her eyes. “What would be the point? If I ever get back to Fenhold Village, I’ll go back to a life of planting crops and digging peat.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “If we return, I will make sure the king knows how valuable you and Owen and George were to us. I’ll recommend that he reward you.”
“But we haven’t been valuable,” she said. “Owen shows no sign that he remembers a thing. George has been useful, yes, but he’s not done anything you couldn’t do for yourselves. And I’ve done nothing but eat your food.”
“No,” said William. “You’ve done more than that. You… you keep my morale up.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You make me smile, if I’m to be honest. It does a man good to be able to look at a pretty face. Now, Sir Stephen seems to think he’s rather pretty, but it’s not quite the same.”
Penny blushed and looked down at her feet. “Don’t, Sir William.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t… don’t try to steal me away from George.”
“I have no intention of doing so. But if we are friends, I can pay you a compliment if I want to. And I can teach you to read, if that’s what you would like. So would you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll begin tonight, after dinner. And we’ll put lots of debris above the crypt so we’ll hear anything that might come up those steps. But nothing will.”
Penny nodded. She felt William’s fingers brush against the side of her hand, but when she didn’t respond, he withdrew them and turned back toward the tower. She waited for him to disappear around the corner before following.
Chapter Fifteen
Wellspring
George was quiet as Sir William sat beside Penny, helping her sound out the simpler words in her book. Penny was aware of his glances, but she didn’t look up at him at all during the lesson. After an hour, she felt her eyes getting heavy, and Sir William’s enthusiasm had begun to wane.
“I need to sleep,” she said.
“Right,” said William. “Sir Alfred and Sir Stephen, take the first watch. Wake Penny and me for the second.”
The interior of the tower had grown quite warm from the fire, and they had, as a result, spread their bedrolls out, far from the flames. Penny got Owen settled into his bed then crawled in beneath her blanket. George was beside her, almost within reach. A pile of debris separated the three of them from direct view of the fire. She tried to sleep, but George had gone to bed without even saying good night. He was jealous.
Penny tossed and turned for a while but finally decided something had to be done. She quietly slipped out of her clothes and, making sure no one was looking in her direction, threw back her blanket and crawled over to George. He let out a groan as she bent down and kissed him, but as soon as he was awake and realized what was happening, he returned the kiss. She felt his arm come out from under his blanket, and his lips curved into a smile as his hand found her nude body.
She slipped in under his blanket and helped him out of his trousers. As he adjusted his position and entered her, she sighed. Their lovemaking was slow and gentle; neither of them wanted to draw attention. When they had finished, Penny lay on top of him for a few minutes longer before crawling back to her bed and putting her clothes back on.
She was still unable to sleep. She hoped she had satisfied George and soothed his jealousy, but she still felt guilty. About what? Sir William was only teaching her how to read. They were only friends. She loved George. Didn’t she?
She thought back to all the times she had rebuffed him. Why had it taken her so long to share his bed? Why had she refused his proposals? After their night together at the village, he hadn’t asked her to marry him again. Did he sense that she was still uncertain? She turned her head toward George, but shielded from the firelight as they were, he was little more than a shape on the ground.
She drifted off at some point, and the next thing she knew, she was being awakened by Sir William. They spent their watch in silence; they’d earlier discovered that even the lowest of voices was amplified inside the tower. She wondered if she and George had been quiet enough, but Sir William did not act as though he knew what she’d done. Even if he did know, she thought, he was gentleman enough not to mention it.
Her attention was repeatedly drawn not to the door, where any real danger might come from, but back to the steps leading down to the crypt. It was completely out of sight due to the debris, but she watched every shadow that jumped and leaped in the firelight. But Sir William was right. There was no sign that their presence had stirred anything unnatural, and when their watch ended, she was able to fall right to sleep again.
She awoke to the sound of laughter. The six men were already awake and were preparing breakfast. She got up, excused herself to take care of her personal needs outside, and when she returned, George held a plate of food out to her. As every other meal, it was bread, cheese and dried meat and fruit.
“We uncovered the crypt again,” William said, “and there was nothing out of place. Sir Stephen needs more time to finish copying the carvings on the slabs, so we will be able to rest here for a bit longer.”
“You’ll be able to rest,” said Sir Stephen, but he smiled as he said it. He raised his hand to his forehead and twisted his face in mock anguish. Everyone laughed, even Owen, who seemed amused by the pantomime.
