Clive Cussler - Pirate

“To start with,” Sam said, “the translation of what Lazlo sent.”

“If you have some paper, I have the original email on my mobile. There were a few words I couldn’t get, but several of them I knew right off.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started scrolling through his messages while Remi looked through her purse for paper. He glanced up suddenly. “One question. I’m not the only expert in Old English. Definitely not the foremost. And given my history with Madge, what made you pick me?”

Remi handed him pen and paper. “Luck of the draw, mostly. You happened to be in the area.”

It didn’t take him long. The passage that Lazlo had sent was short. “Something to keep in mind,” Nigel said, “is that there’s plenty of room for error. We seem to be working with a mix of Old English and Middle English. Spelling varied over the centuries, as did the meanings of words and the order in which they were written. What I’m trying to say is, hand this to someone else, they may come up with something different.” He slid the paper across the table toward Sam. “These are the words. The first three are pretty simple. Anyone with an Internet connection could’ve looked them up and translated them.”

Sam read the list. The first three words translated to hole or well, castle, rock or hill . “No idea about these?” Sam asked, not able to make anything out of them himself. Wul hol and wul eshea od …

“That’s the part I had difficulty with. Sorry. No idea.”

Remi studied the list for a moment. “So we have a few of the words. Now what?”

“Context,” Nigel said, “is everything. It might help to know where they originated, and when they were written, especially regarding any word that might have a dual meaning. Like that last one which could be rock or hill .”

Remi returned the list to Sam, who said, “They were found on an old map that we believe dates from 1696. But the original wording was probably transcribed from something written around the time of King John’s death.”

Nigel’s brows went up. “You’re saying this list is a key to the missing treasure? That it’s here in King’s Lynn?”

“That, I don’t know. It’s taken from a coded message that’s not completely deciphered.”

Nigel held out his hand. “May I have another look?”

Sam handed the list to him.

He studied it as the waitress brought their drinks. When she left, he said, “When it comes right down to it, any one of these words could be describing a hiding place. The problem arises in narrowing down a location — assuming they’ve been properly translated.”

“Anything around here fit?” Remi asked.

“Yes. But there’s nothing around here that hasn’t been searched a million times by others looking for the same thing.”

“Maybe so,” Sam said. “But they’re not us. So what’s your take on locations?”

“ Hole or well could be a description of King John’s Hole. That’s about halfway between here and Long Sutton. And, if true, buried beneath about thirty feet of silt. Except—”

“Except what?” Sam asked when Nigel didn’t continue.

“Except why have these other indicators with it? Castle and hill , for instance? Maybe a well in a castle ? Or a castle hill ? There are plenty of those about.”

“Anything dating from that era in the general vicinity?”

“Castle Rising.”

“Looks like we have a bit of exploring to do in the morning.”

Remi raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to good hunting.”

The following morning, Sam and Remi decided against Castle Acre, which didn’t seem to have any connection to King John or the treasure, and settled on Castle Rising. It was the closest out of the three sites Nigel had suggested and had a connection to Queen Isabella. She’d lived there — or was banished there — after her son, Edward III, deposed Isabella and her lover, Roger Mortimer, who had taken control of the throne after Edward’s father abdicated. There was even a rumor of a hidden tunnel that Isabella used during her banishment to get in and out of the castle unseen. That, Sam and Remi decided, was definitely worth looking into.

When they called Lazlo and Selma to discuss the possible options, Lazlo felt it was premature to visit anywhere since he hadn’t finished with the deciphering of the passage from the map. “I’m working at a disadvantage — what, with the poor photo quality and the worn symbols on the cipher wheel.”

“We can’t wait forever,” Sam said.

“And,” Remi added, “we need to stay ahead of Charles Avery.”

“Forget them,” Lazlo said. “Do you know how many castle ruins there are in Great Britain? You’ll be old and gray by the time you finish searching each one.”

“Remi’s right,” Sam said. “Avery and Fisk stole Nigel’s notebook with the Old English translations, which means they’re looking at the same things we are.”

“This area,” Remi said, “was where the treasure was last seen. And it does mention something about a castle, so why not there? Maybe we’ll find that key piece of information that points us in the right direction.”

“I suppose it can’t hurt to look,” Lazlo replied. “I’ll keep working and let you know if anything changes.”

He put Selma back on the line, and Sam turned off the speaker, then gave the phone to Remi, who wanted to ask about Bree. When she finished the call, she seemed happy.

“Good news?” Sam asked.

“I think so. No further issues, and Bree seems to be doing well. Selma thinks Bree should stay with them until this is over.”

“Probably a good idea. I wouldn’t put it past Avery to try to use her and her cousin again.”

A knock at their hotel door alerted them to Nigel’s arrival. Although they’d been reluctant to include him after last night’s robbery, he’d insisted on helping and declared he was well aware of the danger.

Sam drove while Nigel gave directions. Remi was content to ride in the back, taking in the countryside, as they left King’s Lynn and drove through the woods. The fog from last night, though thinner, still hung in the air, and Sam turned on the wipers, clearing the windshield.

Nearly a dozen other cars were in the car park when Sam pulled in. He stopped as a few children darted out from between the cars, too eager to wait for their parents before exploring Castle Rising. He pulled into the first space and grabbed his backpack from the trunk.

“Impressive,” Remi said as they walked across the lot toward the castle grounds. The mist-filled sky shimmered with silver light as the sun broke through, highlighting the harsh edges of the castle ruins that towered over them. She took out her cell phone and took a photo. “Makes me wish I’d brought a real camera.”

The three stood there for a moment, admiring the stone structure, before walking in to start their self-guided tour. Castle Rising was built in the twelfth century, according to the literature. Set on over twelve acres, the stone keep looked like a medieval fortress but had originally been built as an extravagant hunting lodge.

Unfortunately, after spending the next hour walking around, searching every corner, Sam realized that Lazlo was right — at least about this castle. They were wasting their time. “Anywhere else we should be looking?” he asked Nigel as they walked down the stone stairs to the castle grounds.

“The only other place, off the top of my head, is King John’s Hole. And that’s not an easy place to search.”

“Why not?” Sam asked. “We’ve got time to kill.”