Jack Whyte - Order in Chaos

“And you’ve left these chests out in the barn ?”

Will laughed. “Why not? They’ll come to no harm. They’ve lain untended in a cave in France for ten years, and since then they’ve been safely stowed in the holds of several ships. They can survive a night in a barn, until we decide on someplace safe to hide them for a while.”

Sir Alexander had now had sufficient time to absorb the shock and his expression turned pensive. “What are your plans for it? Plainly you seek to hide it, but why bring it here in the first place?”

“Because here, with your consent, is where we intend to conceal it.” Ignoring his father’s raised eyebrow, Will quickly told him about the cavern he and his brothers had discovered as boys, and the old man chuckled, his eyes sparkling.

“I know it well,” he said. “I played in it with my own friends and brothers as a lad. It’s big enough to lose a substantial treasure inside it. But how large are these chests? You’ll never get them in if they’re too big.” His father paused, a peculiar expression on his face, and Will knew his own face must be reflecting his surprise, for Sir Alexander laughed again. “You didn’t know I knew about the place,” he said. “William, that cave has been there since the beginning of time, long before the first Sinclairs arrived in Roslin. You held the knowledge of it secret, thinking it yours alone—but so did we, my brothers and I, in our own time. And it would surprise me to learn that there was ever a generation of Sinclair boys who did not think the same.”

The old man chuckled again, but quietly this time, as though at himself. “We all delude ourselves in youth,” he continued finally. “It is the same with babymaking and the joys of doing it … each of us, each pair of young lovers, believes they have discovered the secret of the ages, now revealed to them alone, the wonder of it. Ah, well. That is the miracle of youth and learning …”

Will sat blinking, not knowing what to say next in the face of this unprecedented glimpse of his august sire’s humanity and fallibility, and his mind filled with the sudden knowledge that, no matter how old he grew or how highly placed he became, his father would always have the ability to put him in his place and make him feel like a child again. The feeling grew into the first stirrings of panic, and he coughed and tried to pull himself together, to return to the business at hand

“Aye … of course … But that is why we require your permission, Father, and your aid. Many of the men I brought with me are highly skilled masons, while two are architects. It will be a simple task to enlarge the entrance, then seal it up again with stonework once the Treasure is inside. There, it will be more than safe, since none but you in all Scotland will know its location … That is true, is it not? You will be the only one who knows of it?”

The elder Sinclair smiled. “The only one I can think of … but there were many who knew of it when I was a lad. Today, though, if anyone went back to look for it after your men had finished their work, they wouldna fret about no’ finding it … But you have not explained why you need my aid. It sounds to me as though you don’t.”

“Oh yes we do, Father. We need you to make sure that none of your folk come looking out of idle curiosity, seeking to find out what we are doing out there in the woods.”

“Aye. That is easily done. No one will come near you—I can see to that, if nothing else. Now, as soon as day breaks, have some of your men bring the chests in here. They can sit over in that corner, and no one will as much as look at them. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, Father, nothing more.”

“Good, then tell me about this King of ours. What was your reading of the man? Kenneth, what did you think of him?”

“I never met him, Father. Will was the one who met and talked with him.”

Will shrugged. “I found him … regal … and in his dealings with me he was straightforward, noble, magnanimous, and unassuming. I liked him greatly.” Sir Alexander made a harrumphing sound, and Will glanced keenly at him. “You sound unimpressed, Father. Do you disagree with my judgment?” His voice was quiet, showing only curiosity and no offense.

“No, no, lad. I believe you well enough, but until hearing you saying it, I would have been inclined to doubt such things. I knew him as a young man, and I was unimpressed by his bearing or his behavior. In those days he was a strutting lordling, a favorite of the Plantagenet, with not a thought in his mind beyond clothing, hunting, gambling, and women … He did not appear to me to be of the stuff from which strong kings are made. My father had supported his grandfather, old Robert Bruce, the Competitor as he was known then, and so I was—with the rest of our family—known as a Bruce man. But this one’s father, Robert Bruce the Elder, was a dour and unlikable man, and even his son shunned his company, preferring to spend his time with the Plantagenet crowd. And the father didn’t seem to mind, probably thinking that, wastrel or not, the boy had the ear and the patronage of the English King … for what that was worth.

“But from all I hear, and what you’ve told me from your own experience, it would appear the lordling has grown up well—from Earl of Carrick to King of Scots—and is well thought of, too, by those who know him nowadays. You trust him, then?”

“Aye, Father. I do. He had no need to be generous to us, supplicants for his aid when he was ill beset himself. He was engaging and possessed of a great and unassuming dignity … Regal, I said, and regal I meant. Robert of Scotland is a king in more than name.”

“Then I will take your word for it and think no more ill of him. Speaking of which, I hear that he has fallen ill himself and his brother Edward—a hothead, that one—has him under guard near Inverurie. It is mere rumor—I have no proof of the right or wrong of it. You know how people talk, knowing nothing but pretending they know all there is to know.” Sir Alexander rose to his feet and crossed to the fireplace, where he picked up a long, narrow log and used it to rake the embers into activity before placing it among the glowing coals and adding several more. He stood there for long moments with his back to his sons, staring into the rekindled flames, then spoke without turning around.

“How will you protect your fleeing brood? And for how long?”

Will had been thinking about the Bruce’s illness, concerned by the news of it, and now he was aware that he had lost the thread. He looked over at his brother, puzzled, but Kenneth was looking back at him the same way.

“I don’t follow you, Father. What do you mean?”

The old man turned to face them, glancing from one to the other before addressing Will directly. “You are made Master in Scotland, you say … Master of what?”

“Of the Temple Order, I told—”

“I know what you told me, William, but now I am asking you to think on what is involved in that. If your worst fears are realized—as it seems they are bound to be—then the Temple is finished throughout Christendom. The head is already gone, and the rest of the goose will run around flapping its wings for a short time, and then fall dead.” He held up a hand to stifle protest, though neither of his sons had responded.

“In all of Christendom, then, your command here—your little outpost of a few hundred souls—will be the sole repository of your Order’s history and traditions. Your charge, William, as Master—and yours, Kenneth, as his brother—is to cherish and protect it: knights and sergeants, history and traditions, readiness and manpower. But how long can you sustain it? Where will you find recruits if the Order is abolished? Every man you lose from this time on will be irreplaceable. You cannot even breed sons to fill your ranks, even had you the time, because your people are all monks. Has that occurred to you?”