“Even had we found it we could not have kept it,” I said reluctantly. “The Knights’ treasure is a sacred trust. Nothing but ill fortune would come to anyone who took it for ill purposes. Remember, whoever hastens to be rich will not go unpunished,” I quoted to him from the Bible.

“There is nothing wrong in providing for the child,” Byram said stoutly. “The good Lord would understand.”

“It is immaterial,” I said, “since the treasure was not there. By providence again, we have been spared the temptation.”

Byram looked pained. “Your faith must be a great comfort to you, madam,” he said, “and I admire your upright spirit, but it will not keep us all warm and fed. Ashby falls about our ears and now we have another mouth to feed. And young lads always eat like horses.”

“We will find a way,” I said. I looked out at the drenched remnants of the garden. Amongst the twisted, charred and burned ruins, only the labyrinth and the water remained, though the pretty little obelisk that had marked the center of the maze was nothing more than cinders and ashes. I thought of the sealed vault lined with stone, carefully constructed, hidden and secure. It must have served some purpose, yet it had been empty.

I rubbed my tired eyes. Perhaps someone had been ahead of us, I thought. The fire had caused chaos and under cover of that, a thief could have slipped in and no one would have noticed.

“Where there is treasure, Byram,” I said, “there are always thieves.”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “Is that also from the Bible, madam? Proper miserable book it can be.”

“No,” I said, “those were my own thoughts. I must speak with Sir Thomas Tresham,” I added. “But for now there is only one treasure that concerns me.” I picked Robbie up and he nestled into my arms, smiling, a wooden toy clutched in one hand whilst with the other he reached inquisitively for the lace at my throat. Already he was so familiar to me, his shape, his scent, that my heart unfurled with love every time I saw him. He was the skein of light that ran through the darkness of those days. And though my bones protested that I was too old now to have the care of a young child, no power on earth or in heaven could have taken him from me.

“He is hungry again,” I said prosaically, “just as you predicted.” I blinked back the fierce tears that flooded my eyes. “Let us go and find something to eat.”

Fifteen

Lucy

“I feel as though I missed something at Chastleton,” Lucy said to Cleo, as they drove back from Highworth to Knightstone through the twilight landscape.

“What do you mean?” Cleo took her gaze from the road to look at her briefly. “I thought you were pleased to have got hold of the book about Robert Catesby and have that chat with the curator about Charlie?”