“Wait here.” He started toward the edge.
“Wait for me,” Andrea called after him.
“No. Let me find the way.”
He slipped over the side. She watched him make several attempts and was about to give up when he hurried back to her.
“Come. I found a way.” He helped her down among the rocks.
They walked along the substantial path, wide enough for both of them. As they got closer, they came to an exposed area with a narrow bridge. The footpath was an outcropping of stones on the wall. Forty feet beneath them was nothing but the sand and a scattering of boulders. To get to the other side, they had to step sideways across the bridge and hold onto the rock wall as best they could.
Battered by the wind, they faced the cliff and made their way across in nine steps. From here it was a short climb to the cave entrance. Donald held her tight as the wind barreled along the rocks.
The entryway yawned in front of them. By the entrance was a small stream that filled a basin that overflowed down the outside of the cave. Large stones with flat tops set in a straight pattern created a seating area.
“A chapel,” he murmured then ventured deeper into the darkness, Andrea was close at his side.
Andrea walked among the stone benches and stopped to look at several tombs set in the pattern of a cross. They were all knights. She tried to make out the details, but old rusted weapons scattered at the bottom of the tombs made it difficult to get close enough to read anything. She went on.
“It’s too dark here. We’ll have to return with torches.”
She turned from the tombs. She tugged at his sleeve and pointed to a boulder that stood in front of her. A weak shaft of light was on the floor.
“It could be sunlight from a hole in the rock.” He walked around the boulder.
“Andrea, come quick.”
She rushed to him. He stood by a door, the light coming from underneath.
“Stand away.”
He pulled and pulled and finally the door opened and revealed a small stone chapel. Water ran down the wall behind the empty altar. Below, a badly injured man dressed in vicar vestments, sat propped up against the stone.
Donald hurried to him. The man, barely alive struggled to sit up.
“No, vicar. Stay still.” Donald eased him back down.
“I’ll get help,” Andrea said.
“The vicarage, next to the church,” the vicar said.
Andrea nodded and slipped out the door.
Donald used his dirk and cut the vestment. The vicar’s chest was seriously bruised. His pectoral cross was badly dented. One deep wound by his collar bone bled profusely. Using his dirk, he cut strips of material from the vestment and applied pressure to stop the bleeding.
“What happened?” Donald asked.
“I was preparing the chapel for tomorrow’s celebration, St. Aidan’s Feast.”
“Here?”
“Yes. It is a tradition. As I was making my preparations, three men entered. It’s not unusual. Many of the pilgrims try to enter early. I told them to come back tomorrow. When I put the chalice on the altar they attacked me and took it. They said something about—”
“—the treasure beyond measure.” Donald offered.
The vicar’s eyes widened, and he pulled away. “Who are you?”
“I’m Donald MacDougall Taylor Eden. Son of Moira MacDougall, chieftain of the MacDougalls of Gilmar.”
“MacDougall? Then… then it’s real. All these years the vicars of St. Aidan of Bamburgh have protected the treasure beyond measure for the Seeker and the Sword, a MacDougall sword. The Seeker?”
“Andrea Ricard, the woman who is with me is the last of the Abadia line. She is the seeker.”
“Tell me about the prophecy.” Donald continued to dress the vicar’s wound.
“A chalice was chiseled out of black dragon stone. A knight was given the duty of keeping the chalice safe for his king, but he was going into battle. The knight gave it to the monk at St. Aidan for safekeeping and was told that if the knight didn’t return the seeker and sword would come and ask for the treasure beyond measure. They would know what to do.”
“Now these three men, they have the chalice,” Donald said.
The vicar gave a crafty smile.
“What have you done?”
“We keep St Aidan’s chalice here for the pilgrims to view. Few know about the treasure beyond measure. When the knight didn’t return, he decided to call on St. Aidan’s help to keep the king’s chalice safe and hidden away.” He pointed to the wall behind the altar, where a soft flow of water washed down the wall and pooled into a basin. “Behind the stone.”
Donald looked closely where the vicar pointed.
He stared at the carved stone that covered the niche and saw a chalice and a raven with a sprig of heather in its beak.
“Each year, I remove the chalice from its hiding place. When the service is over, I return it and seal it up once again. It is fortunate that when the thieves came I hadn’t removed the chalice.”
Using his dirk, Donald loosened and removed the stone.
In the flickering light through a thin veil of water stood a beautiful black chalice.
Excited, he reached for the relic.
“No. Let me.” Donald helped the vicar to his feet. The priest shuffled over to the niche, took out the chalice and handed it to Donald. “The keystone in the niche’s arch is shaped like a shield with its bottom pointed directly at the chalice. The legend says that the keystone will fall should anyone other than the priest touch the relic.”
Donald peered inside the cup at a beautifully carved red stone at the bottom.
The torch began to flicker. He handed the chalice to the vicar. Andrea should be here soon.
“Do you think you can stand? We need to leave here while we still have light. We can wait outside.”
With Donald’s help the vicar hobbled out the door. They walked around the boulder and came face to face with Andrea. She stood in front of three men.
“I should thank you.” Davenport stood in front of
