Page 51 of The Hidden Lord
“I think I have found carvings on the altar,” he said, his words nearly lost in the wind.
Henri stepped forward through the biting cold, heart pounding. Thankfully, after stopping in London, she had proper half-boots on her feet to navigate the icy terrain.
Gabriel emerged from behind the altar, his face flushed with cold but his eyes bright with discovery. The wind had whipped his dark hair across his forehead, and Henri could see that despite the bitter conditions, he was energized by whatever he had found among the ancient stones.
“Henri,” he called, beckoning to her with careful urgency. “I need you here. But watch your step! The stones are treacherous with this ice.”
Henri made her way painstakingly across the frozen ground, each step requiring careful placement to avoid the patches of black ice that had formed in the shadows of the tumbled stones. The wind cut through her cloak with vicious intensity, making her eyes water and her fingers ache even within her gloves. Gabriel extended his hand to steady her while Henri considered his leather Hessians with envy.
“What did you find?” she asked breathlessly.
Gabriel led her to the crude altar at the center of the ruins, where the ancient stone structure stood like a sentinel against the elements. Up close, Henri could see that what had appeared to be simple weathering from a distance was actually far more deliberate. The wind had carved strange patterns in the accumulated frost, but beneath the natural erosion were clear signs of human craftsmanship.
“The stonework here is far more sophisticated than it appears from a distance,” Gabriel explained, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. “Someone took great care with this particular piece, even if the rest of the chapel was abandoned before completion.”
Henri pulled off her gloves despite the brutal cold, knowing she would need the sensitivity of bare skin to properly examine whatever Gabriel had discovered. The frigid air immediately began to numb her fingers, but she ignored the discomfort as she knelt beside the altar.
“Show me what you have found,” she said, already beginning to brush away the thick layer of moss and accumulated debris that had settled over the stone’s surface.
Gabriel pointed to the base of the altar, where centuries of organic matter had created a thick carpet of decomposing vegetation. “There, along the foundation. I caught a glimpse of what looked like markings.”
Henri began the painstaking process of clearing away the moss, working methodically despite her rapidly numbing fingers. The vegetation had rooted itself deeply into every crevice of the stone, requiring careful persistence to remove without damaging whatever lay beneath. As she worked, Gabriel positioned himself to block the worst of the wind, though the gusts still found ways to send icy needles through every gap in their clothing.
“There,” Henri said suddenly, excitement overriding the discomfort as something began to emerge from beneath the organic matter. “These aren’t natural formations. Someone carved these symbols into the stone.”
As more of the moss came away under her persistent scraping, Henri could make out what was unmistakably a line of text etched into the altar’s base. The letters were weathered but still clearly readable, executed in the formal style she recognized from medieval manuscripts.
“It is Latin,” she breathed, her words forming white clouds in the frigid air. “Ad hoc fidelis.”
Gabriel crouched beside her, adding his efforts to the clearing process while she continued to trace the letters with increasingly unresponsive fingertips. “‘Faithful to this,’” he translated, tight with concentration as he worked to expose more of the inscription.
Below the Latin text, Henri discovered another marking. A symbol that appeared to be a circle dissected by what looked like a crucifix, though the weathering and accumulated ice made it difficult to determine the exact design. The craftsmanship was precise despite its age, suggesting someone with considerable skill had taken great care in its creation.
“That symbol,” Gabriel murmured, studying the marking as Henri brushed away the last of the obscuring debris. “I have seen something similar before, though I cannot quite place thecontext. It’s familiar, but not quite identical to anything in my memory.”
Henri continued her exploration of the inscription, now working more by sight than touch as her fingers grew too cold to feel texture properly. But as she pressed along the length of the Latin text, searching for any other hidden elements, she made an unexpected discovery.
“Gabriel,” she said urgently. “The letters! They are not carved into the altar itself. They are on a separate piece. I can feel the edges.”
Gabriel immediately focused his attention on the area Henri indicated, adding his gloved hands to her exploration. Together, they began to trace what they now realized were the boundaries of a discreet stone element embedded within the altar’s structure.
“There is a groove here,” Gabriel confirmed with excitement. “Running beneath the entire inscription. This is not just decorative carving. It is a separate piece designed to be moved.”
The announcement sent a thrill through Henri. Someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to conceal something within this abandoned altar, creating a hiding place so sophisticated that it had remained undiscovered for centuries.
Together, they worked at the edges. The centuries of debris and accumulated ice had created a natural seal that would require considerable effort to break, but the groove Gabriel had identified provided the leverage they needed.
“On the count of three,” Gabriel said, positioning his hands for maximum advantage. “One … two … three.”
They applied pressure simultaneously, and after a moment of resistance, the stone slab shifted slightly within its housing. Encouraged by this initial success, they continued working together, gradually loosening the ancient seal until the slab could be lifted free entirely.
“Careful now,” Gabriel warned as they prepared to extract their prize. “Whatever is beneath this has been protected for centuries. We do not want to damage it through haste.”
With infinite care, they lifted the moss-covered stone slab from its resting place beneath the altar. The piece was heavier than Henri had expected, requiring both of them to manage its weight safely in the wintry conditions.
“We need to turn it over,” Gabriel said, his breath forming thick clouds in the frigid air. “Whatever message was meant to be hidden will be on the protected surface.”
Together, they carefully maneuvered the heavy slab until they could examine its hidden face. What Henri saw there made her gasp with amazement, despite the numbing cold that was making coherent thought increasingly difficult. She fumbled to put her gloves back on.
