Page 31 of Fiendish Delights
Hester launched herself off my shoulder. ‘I’m going back to bed,’ she muttered.
Otis watched his sister for a moment. ‘I’d better go with her.’
‘Oi!’ I protested. ‘I thought you were excited about this training!’
‘I am.’ He smiled. ‘Work hard!’ Then he hastily flapped away as if he were afraid that Miriam would hand him rocks to carry, too.
‘Come on, Daisy,’ she ordered. ‘Chop-chop.’
Great. I sighed. Lucky old me.
Despite the cold winter morning, I was a hot, sweaty mess by the time Miriam allowed me to stop. I’d run around, drilled basic sword positions and finished with a sparring routine where she’d knocked me on my arse several times.
It didn’t help that Hugo had ambled over to watch. I wasn’t usually clumsy and I didn’t normally mind a small audience, but there was something about the way his eyes tracked my every movement that gave me the jitters.
At least Gladys seemed to enjoy herself; she hummed and buzzed in delight the whole way through. That made me feel somewhat guilty. She deserved a better owner than me.
As soon as the session was over, Miriam returned to her usual twinkly self. She nodded at Gladys. ‘She really is an extraordinary blade. It’s astonishing that she accepted you so readily – most sentient swords can be picky about their owners.’
‘To be fair,’ I mumbled, ‘she’d been stuck in the deepest part of a dark cave for centuries. She’d probably have accepted anyone. Beggars can’t be choosers.’
Miriam gave me a long look. ‘I always took umbrage with that phrase. Just because you don’t have many options doesn’tmean you can’t be empowered to choose for yourself or be allowed to maintain your morals and beliefs in the face of adversity. You can be backed into a corner and still forge your own path. It might be more difficult, but there is always another way.’
Hugo came over and handed me a mug of coffee and a bacon roll. ‘You can see why I like Miriam so much,’ he said wryly. ‘She always challenges the status quo.’ He offered a smile. ‘She challenged me over my behaviour towards you.’
Miriam also smiled. ‘Everyone needs someone like me in their lives,’ she said serenely. ‘Where’smybreakfast, Hugo?’
‘Coming right up, ma’am.’ He spun around in the direction of the campfire.
She glanced at me as he left. ‘He’s a good boy.’ I couldn’t disagree.
We joined the others. I gulped my coffee and munched the roll, pausing only to wipe the clinging sweat from my forehead. I wasn’t the only one who was eating quickly; with the birds twittering overhead and the sun rising, it was clear there was only one thing on everyone’s mind. The expectation that we were about to uncover an ancient treasure was high, and conversation was at a minimum. Every single one of us was itching to get to the yew tree and investigate it properly.
For the first time in a long time, I felt the joy of kinship and shared goals. There was a lot to be said for working in a team.
Rizwan, who’d recovered from the trauma of cooking breakfast, cleared away the dishes at high speed, while Becky bounced from foot to foot, and Slim and Miriam slung heavy-looking backpacks on their shoulders. Even Hester seemed excited as she emerged from the tent with a zippy whistle. Otis was spinning eagerly at her side.
‘You know we’re heading to the graveyard, Hes?’ I asked.
‘It’s for the greater good and I’m mentally prepared,’ she said. ‘Bring it on.’
‘You don’t have to come.’
She glowered. ‘I’m coming. I want to find the mythical treasure. I don’t want you lot uncovering any smelly magical cloaks or stupid enchanted cups without me.’
I stifled a smile.
As everyone looked at Hugo, he looked at me. ‘Shall we?’ he asked.
Anticipation fizzed in my veins. ‘Yes.’ Hell, yes.
Six of us marched and two of us flew. This time we skirted the abbey ruins and made a beeline for the ancient yew tree high up near the wall of the old graveyard. I paused only briefly to appreciate the melody of magic swirling up around me, then I quickened my step. Mythical treasure, here we come.
Now that it was daylight, the yew tree looked ancient and unkempt. From a distance, it appeared to be listing slightly to one side, as if unable to maintain its own weight. Up close, however, it was obviously the heavy branches that gave that impression. As an evergreen, it didn’t appear particularly fazed by the onset of winter; its leaves remained glossy and green, even though its wide trunk was gnarled and knotted.
I doubted it was lost on any of us that the yew tree was a symbol of immortality. It certainly seemed a fitting spot to conceal old treasure.
A low wall had been built around the base of the yew, perhaps to protect its exposed roots from damage or maybe to show that this tree in particular deserved special recognition. A large stone was inscribedDafydd ap Gwillem. ‘It appears that we’re in the right place,’ Hugo said.
