Free The Black Rood by Stephen R. Lawhead Page B

feeling as forlorn as a hound banished from my master’s side. Haldi, the serving-boy, appeared after awhile with the jars of ale. Ragna called to him as he moved toward the door at the far end of the hall.
    â€œBring the tray to me, Haldi,” she said. He came and lay the tray on the table. She dismissed him, saying, “They will be some time at their talk, I think. Help cook in the kitchen and then you can go to bed. I will see to the lord’s ale.”
    Haldi thanked her and ran off, glad at the prospect of finishing his chores early. Rising then, my mother yawned and said, “I have grown tired myself, and believe I will go tobed. Perhaps you would not mind undertaking this duty, Duncan.”
    â€œBy all means, my lady,” I replied. “I am only too happy to oblige.”
    She kissed me on the cheek and I bade her good night. Then, so as not to waste another moment, I snatched up the tray and hastened off to the treasure room where the mystery of Eirik’s vision was being revealed.

SIX
    T HE TREASURE ROOM is a small chamber in the center of the house, with no windows and but a single low door. Its walls are good solid stone and very thick. It was, I believe, the first part of the house to be constructed, and all the rest—the sleeping rooms, stores, workrooms, kitchen and hall—was built around it. Many an Eastern potentate has such a room, I have learned, but few noblemen in the north. The reason is that such wealth as men possess in the wild northlands resides in the land itself—the fields, cattle, grazing land, and the like.
    Murdo owns wealth like this in abundance, to be sure. But he also possesses a treasure that would make many a king grow heartsick with envy if the full extent of it were ever known. Murdo has ever been circumspect about his treasure; he never speaks of it, and seldom even visits the room wherein it is housed. Once, as a boy of six or seven summers, I sneaked the great iron key from its hiding place and waited until everyone was about some other chore, and then let myself in to see what I might find.
    The room itself was, even to my childish eye, small and low. There was a table in the center of the room with one chair, and a candletree with half-burnt candles. There were four large oaken chests—one on each wall—and each chest was bound in broad iron bands which were likewise locked. I had no keys for any of the locks, but the discovery of thosechests proved almost as exciting as an entire silver hoard. I put my eye to the center lock of the largest chest and beheld the dusky glimmer of gold within.
    Footsteps outside the door prevented me from carrying out similar examinations of the three remaining chests. But that solitary glimpse was enough to fuel my fevered imaginings for many days afterward.
    Ah, but the truth, Cait, is more marvelous by far. One day, you will see for yourself.
    That night, however, the treasure was far from my thoughts. I entered the low, candlelit room with the jars of ale, and before anyone remarked on my presence began filling the bowls—as if this were my usual chore. I filled Emlyn’s first, then moved on to Eirik’s and lastly to Murdo’s cup. He thanked me, and then recollected himself and asked what had become of Haldi?
    I replied that the lady had sent him to help the cook, and asked me to serve in his stead. “Since you are here,” Eirik said, “you might as well stay and hear this.”
    The suggestion sat ill with my lord, I could tell. He was on the point of refusing when Abbot Emlyn spoke up. “Yes, let Duncan stay.”
    â€œDo you think it wise?” asked Murdo doubtfully.
    â€œHe must know the truth,” the abbot declared, “if he is to serve it. Yes, let him stay.”
    His words sent a thrill of excitement through me. Was there more to this than I guessed?
    Murdo held his frown for a moment longer, and we all waited for him to make up his mind.