Page 79 of The Guardian's Bride
“A dovecote,” he explained. “The birds are here much of the year.”
“Do the MacDuffs use these caves often?”
“Aye, as have all the locals. The caves have served us for generations, so we take care of them. Come this way.” He led her farther down the beach.
The next cave was another vast domed space swept clean by wind and water. “We call this the court cave. Generations of MacDuff chiefs and earls have held meetings and councils here. Long ago, Fife was a kingdom, though now it is an earldom within Scotland. My nephew will hold that rank of earl all his life, even if he stays in England.”
“So you are guardian of these caves and the beach too.”
“So it seems.” He walked ahead into a space as large as any grand hall.
“Is that furniture?” Rowena saw a stack of chairs, tables, and sundry things propped at the back of the cavern.
“Those belong to families of traveling folk. They roam Fife and Perthshire and often winter here. And they help to protect something special.” Now he guided her along another narrow passageway to an interior cave where lantern light revealed designs cut into the rock. Pausing, she recognized birds, animals, fish, weapons, wheels, rods, and other objects, all with similar decorative curling shapes.
“Beautiful!” she breathed.
“And ancient.” He traced his hand over the chiseled lines. “Here is a crown or a headpiece, this one is a horse. Over there are birds, and a chariot and harness.”
“And a longship!” She studied a linear design of a long vessel with oars.
“These were likely carved by people who lived in the caves long before the Scotti settled here from Ireland. The Romans called the first people they discovered in Scotland the ‘Picti’ because they painted pictures on their bodies before going into battle. Perhaps those people carved these, but only they knew their meaning.”
“You are a warrior and a scholar, Aedan MacDuff.” She slipped a hand inside his elbow as they left the carvings and walked out to the beach again.
“There is one more cave I need to visit if you can walk farther.”
“Anywhere you like. My ankle feels good at the moment.”
“The well did its work. I hope your wee stone soaked up some of its magic too.”
“I think it did.” As they strolled along the gritty beach in moonlight, Rowena saw Aedan hold out his plaid to shield the lantern’s light. “Will the flame blow out?”
“The light could be seen from boats that might be out in the firth at night. I thought I spotted a vessel earlier, but clouds are covering the moon so I am not sure of that. Here is the cave. Itis on a bit of a slope, so do be careful.” He went up the incline, reaching back to help her enter the cave.
“More carvings?” she asked. “Another pool?” She wondered why he wanted to look at carvings and a healing spring before dawn, when all seemed secure here.
“Something else important.” Carrying the lantern, he went to the back of the cave, then stepped into a vertical crack in the dark rock wall to all but disappear. She followed the light as it moved ahead over glossy dark stone.
“Come through,” he called, as she edged along a passageway so narrow that she had to turn sideways, surprised that Aedan, with his broad shoulders, fit through. Stepping around a curve, she entered a tall narrow space. Aedan set the lantern on a ledge, where it created glowing fingers of light.
He reached into a hidden crevice to draw out a long shape muffled in plaid and tied with leather thongs, and set it on the floor with a heavythunk.Kneeling, he unwrapped the cloth to reveal a wooden box strapped with iron bands and three locks.
So this was why he came here, she realized. Not to see a pool or ancient carvings or primordial caves. The caves were significant and he was proud of them, but this box was something else entirely. Something profound. Chills ran down her spine.
Then she remembered being at Holyoak with Aedan while he tossed in a fevered state and pulled her close to whisper something desperately.
I must keep it safe. You must find it. Stones. Magic.She had thought it was the fever in him. More of it came back to her, and she turned.
“Stones,” she said. “The castle, the dove. The stone, the magic. All here.”
Aedan paused briefly but did not look up. Taking a small key from his sporran, he inserted it into the latches with nimble twists. He sat back on his heels and looked up.
“So you remember.”
“I recall part of it, but I did not understand it.”
“Now you will.” He opened the lid, peeled away more fabric, and leaned back.
