“Heart. Neck. Either way, our friend is most likely dead.”
“Andrea,” Isabella called.
She brought her attention back to the others.
“Can you tell anything from this?” Isabella held up a gold ring with a raised, polished oval in the center.
Andrea examined the ring, paying specific attention to the filigree work around the band and oval center. The bezel that held the oval was intricately engraved. Something caught her attention. With a light touch, she ran her finger carefully around the base of the oval.
“What is Andrea doing?” Charlotte asked DuClare.
Before her uncle could answer Charlotte’s question, the oval popped open, hinged at the band.
“What is inside?” Graham asked. “In court they tell of poison carried in rings.”
“No. This is an etched garnet.” Andrea brought the ring closer to the candle and examined the stone. “It’s a signet. The design identifies who owned the ring, or at least the family. I can’t read the etching. The stone is damaged.” She passed the ring to the others.
“Well done,” Donald said, for her ears only. Then he turned to DuClare.
Her body heated at his comment. Mentally, she chuckled. Her body told her one thing, but her mind said another. There was a charm about him that she couldn’t deny, and no way to remain annoyed with him. Uncle Claude spoke about the earl and his brothers often. He liked them all but worked closely with Donald.
Well done. She heard the words before, but from him, the approval was important. Deep inside she understood his praise was genuine and not sprinkled like sugar on pastry, but rather, had to be won.
Charlotte handed her the ring. Andrea closed the dome and wrapped the precious items in the oiled cloth. No need to sort her feelings out at the moment. She and Uncle Claude would be gone by tomorrow afternoon, and Donald would be another among her list of friendly acquaintances.
“Are you on holiday with your uncle?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m on a quest. I’m following the trail of a Templar relic.”
“Please, Andrea.” DuClare addressed the others. “This is my fault for indulging her. For the last year Andrea’s traveled with me as my invaluable assistant.”
Her uncle didn’t mean to embarrass her. She could tell by the mild shock on his face and flushed pink of his cheeks. What was done, was done.
“I do research for Uncle Claude. I found some old documents. In several of the codices I found a reference to a relic. I was astonished that the relic was associated with my mother’s family. The mystery got my interest. Now, I’m determined to locate the relic and find out more.”
“You’re a treasure hunter on an adventure competing for the prize,” Donald said.
“Of sorts. Although I never thought of myself in those terms.”
“What will you surrender, forfeit for your treasure?” Isabella chuckled at her own question.
“I surrender time, but in exchange my reward is simply finding the relic and information about my mother’s family. There is no one else to do the research. I am the only survivor of her line. So far, my search has taken me to Tunis and Troyes. Uncle Claude said you may know something about the treasure beyond measure.”
The buzz of conversation in the small room came to an abrupt halt.
Startled by everyone’s reaction she turned to her uncle and followed his gaze to Isabella.
“Maurice called my grand-mère,” Isabella gestured to Jeanne Marie, “his treasure beyond measure.”
“What can you tell me about this ancient treasure?” Jeanne Marie asked.
“I came upon the phrase in Troyes when my uncle showed the Templar Grand Master the document I carried. Uncle Claude said I should come here. He warned me my journey may come to nothing since Maurice was the person I needed to speak with.”
“I was speechless when the Grand Master mentioned the treasure beyond measure. I hadn’t heard the phrase in a long time, but when I did, I made arrangements to come here,” DuClare said. “Andrea showed the Grand Master a scrap of parchment and the poor man had to sit down.”
“What did you show him that brought that phrase to his lips?” Jeanne Marie asked.
Andrea took a piece of parchment from her waist, unfolded it and placed it on the desk.
“It’s a piece of a map.” Donald stood at the table, his hands resting on either side of the document. “There are incomplete words at the top. Aba__ de An__? Ah, now I understand why you went to the Grand Master. There is a mark next to Troyes.”
“I bought the map in Tunis,” Andrea said.
“Are you sure the piece is authentic? You can buy treasure maps in almost every desert market.”
“The soldier was badly disabled. He was part of the force that landed with Charles of Anjou in Tunis. When I spoke to him, he said he had suffered for nearly ten years and was dying.”
If the ravings of the dying soldier were correct, the map led to a relic that held more power than anyone could imagine.
“I bought the scrap from him for the price of his burial. I brought his body back to France.”
“You brought him back to Troyes,” Isabella gasped.
Andrea glanced at Isabella. “Yes. The Grand Master laid the Templar knight to rest.”
“There is something important you need to look at.” Jean Marie went to the chest on the other wall and dug deep into the bottom.
Chapter Four
Andrea’s heart pounded. For a year she searched for information about her family and the scrap of parchment. Access to the private libraries and monasteries were difficult, but her Uncle Claude and his business partner Rodigio helped whenever they could. Now, at last, her search would yield results.
No one knew the importance of the relic. Her quest had led her to the Mamluks church in Tunis where she met the dying soldier, to the Templars in Troyes, who confirmed the treasure beyond measure, and now here. Where would her search lead her next?
Jean Marie returned to the desk with a piece of parchment.
“Maurice guarded this scrap
