Page 59 of King of Rogues
She brushed her hand over the nearest line of the markings and racked her brains trying to remember all the rules.
“Hic jacet Robertus. Well, it looks like we have the right coffin.”
Her gaze roamed over the rest of the markings. “And here are some Roman numerals. Gosh, Robert lived to a ripe old age. Ninety-three years.”
Resting her hands on the top of the stone sarcophagus, she sighed. “It’s only got details about him and his life.”
She righted herself and turned to Monsale. “Where is Robert’s duchess?”
He looked around, checking the various stone sarcophagi which had been placed either side of Robert’s. “I don’t know.”
His head lifted, and he stared at the wall behind the coffin. Naomi followed his gaze. She caught sight of an elegant statue of a woman clad in a gown with a belt around her waist. In the poor light she hadn’t noticed the figure. Its hands were resting on the end of the duke’s sarcophagus.
Naomi climbed down from the dais and lifting her skirts, waded through the water and over to the statue.
“Could you please bring the lantern closer?” she said.
Monsale quickly retrieved the lamp from the wall and brought it over. He held it high above Naomi while she examined the stonework. Her fingers touched the woman’s belt. There were words etched into it.
“Ah! The answer is always with the woman. This is a fealty oath. Promitto in fidem meam, quod ego in posterum fidelem.”
“What does that mean?”
“I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to the lord. There is more, but we might need to get pen, ink, and paper, so I can write it all down.”
Robert’s duchess. While she didn’t know the woman’s name, an important detail Naomi was determined to rectify, she clearly held a strong clue as to what the oath of fealty involved.
“I would bet this is a statue of Robert’s wife, and that she is probably buried with him. That’s why she doesn’t have her own sarcophagus.”
Naomi knew what she had to do.
I must transcribe the oath exactly word for word.
Knowing the Prince of Wales, he would demand that it be word-perfect. The last thing she and Monsale needed was for them to lose it all over a mere technicality.
Monsale lowered the lantern. “I tell you what. Let’s head upstairs. We will come back in the morning with more light. Then you can take your time to write it all down.”
Disappointment stirred within. It was dark. It was cold and wet. And yet, she was having one of the best moments of her life unraveling the mystery of the oath.
Her husband’s strong arm wrapped around her waist, it, coupled with his kiss on the back of her neck settled any thoughts that Naomi might have had to protest.
“Yes, well, Robert and his duchess have been down here for almost six hundred years, so I don’t expect they are going anywhere during the next few hours,” she said.
“Come on wife. It’s time we went back to bed.”
Naomi rose on her toes, placing a tender kiss on his lips. “You had better not be planning on going to sleep husband. As I recall you offered to show me all the ways of love making. And I know enough from my friends that we have barely scratched the surface.”
Nearing the steps, Monsale stopped and lifted the lantern. Naomi’s gaze fell on a patch of the wall. It was solid gray, all except for one stone. It was white, and unlike the rest of the oddly shaped pieces, a perfect square.
He pressed his hand against it, and to her surprise the stone popped out. Monsale pulled on it and a small chest followed. The stone had been attached to the front of it, forming a clever disguise.
“Hold this,” he said, handing her the lantern.
While she held the light, he opened the box and peeked inside. The unmistakable glint of gold caught Naomi’s eye.
“What is it?”
“Spanish coins. Doubloons. I brought these with me when I left Bermuda. It’s another of the secret treasures I have maintained over the years. This one is meant for Adan as his retirement fund, but he knows I like to check on it every once in a while. Just to make sure it is still here.”
