“I remember that you and she were close,” I said to Thomas now, “for she was of your own heart in matters of religion. And I believe your grandfather took you to Knightstone as a child, did he not?” I stopped, for I had uncovered in my mind a long-buried but vivid childhood memory of my parents arguing fiercely, my father’s voice a hushed angry whisper:

“Anne, we cannot permit Sir Thomas to take the boy to Knightstone, least of all induct him into the Order of the Hospitallers! You know that that is treason!” And my mother’s reply:

“You cannot forbid it, Robert. Sir Thomas has the right to pass on the prior’s mantle to his grandson if he so chooses. The treasure must be kept safe for when the Order rises again.”

Strange words for a child to hear, and at the time I had been more concerned at the discord between my parents than the mysterious images they conjured. I had forgotten the conversation in the intervening years, but now the mention of Knightstone had brought it back to the surface of my mind. I remembered that there had been an odd atmosphere in the house for several days after that quarrel and that when Thomas returned, my mother had seemed quietly pleased with whatever had passed whilst my father was loud and boisterous as though to persuade us by his false humor that there was nothing amiss at all.

That shadow, like so many other treasonous ones, had passed over us and vanished, but looking at Thomas now I wondered what had happened on that fateful visit to Knightstone Manor. Thomas must have been about fifteen years of age at that time and his grandfather had died a few short months later. Old Sir Thomas, I knew, had been the last Grand Prior of the Order of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem during Queen Mary’s reign. By 1559, the year when he had visited Knightstone, the Order had had all of its properties and possessions confiscated by the new queen but whispers had abounded that some of its treasures had escaped her grasp and been taken to a place of safety...

“What are you thinking, Nan?” Thomas asked me, and I realized that I had been staring at him whilst I went through all those old memories in my mind.

“Why, nothing of importance,” I said lightly. “I must go and prize your wife away from my husband, for Lady Leigh looks to us to return to the abbey for the feast.”

He nodded in acceptance of his dismissal. “Of course,” he said. He touched my arm. “I am glad Robert is to have Knightstone,” he said softly. “He will be a splendid custodian of its treasure.”

There it was again, the word treasure, an uncanny echo of my thoughts. I looked into his eyes. He was smiling, guileless. Perhaps I was reading too much into his words with my half memories of the Knights Hospitaller and their riches, but I thought not. I was sure that Thomas meant to unsettle me, as he had done all our lives.