“How long would it take you to translate the prophecy?” the earl pressed.
The professor wrinkled his nose and flipped carefully through several of the well-worn pages. “It won’t be an easy translation,” he admitted, adjusting his bifocals and squinting at the paper. “But I should think I’d make it through in a few days … a week at the longest.”
The earl sighed heavily. “I’m terribly worried that’s several days too long, Professor,” he said softly. “Now that we know someone is indeed spying on us and wants that journal, I think it best to keep our visit here as short as possible. How much can you decipher by tomorrow evening?”
The professor’s bushy white eyebrows rose. “I hardly think I could make it through a quarter of the text in that span, my lord.”
“And you’re certain Señora Castillo will not allow us to borrow the journal for a few weeks even if we promise to send it to her the moment we’ve finished with it?”
The professor shook his head ruefully. “Quite certain, my lord. She was insistent that I not leave this house with the journal. It records the last words and thoughts of her beloved brother and she’s terribly afraid of losing it or having it further damaged.”
“Pardon me,” said Ian as a thought occurred to him, “but, Professor Nutley, might it be more prudent to make a copy of the prophecy and decipher it back home in England?”
Both the earl and the professor looked at him in surprise before the earl said, “Brilliant idea, lad!”
The professor nodded agreeably. “Yes, of course! I could have this copied word for word in a day, and if I start on it this evening, we might just be able to take our leave by sundown tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” said the earl with a satisfied smile. “Between now and then, professor, do not let that diary out of your sight.”
“Does anyone know why the journal is so important to someone other than ourselves?” Theo asked, her hand at the crystal about her neck.
The professor opened to the middle of the book and squinted at the writing. “I can only think that our enemies would find it worthy of stealing, my lord, because it is obviously important to us. If it does contain a copy of Laodamia’s last prophecy, well, then I should think it vital to our cause.”
The earl looked gravely at the professor. “Then I urge you to make great haste in copying it. I will go into the city at daybreak to arrange passage back to England, but we mustn’t tell Señora Castillo of our plans. If her cook truly is working as a spy, we cannot risk our hostess letting it slip that we plan to make our escape next evening.”
“Very well,” said the professor.
Just then, Carl turned away from the door and whispered urgently, “Carmina’s coming!”
The earl pointed Carl to a chair across from him and quickly removed several chess pieces to make it appear as if he and Carl were in the middle of a game. Ian took the hint and dashed over to snag a novel from the bookshelves before sitting down next to Theo on the sofa. He opened the book just as Carmina entered the library without knocking.
“Good evening,” she said with a thick Spanish accent while carrying a tray loaded with steaming glasses of milk. “I have come to give you all a cap for the night.”
Ian realized she meant the word “nightcap,” and he eyed the tray of milk suspiciously. The earl smiled easily but made no move to take one of the glasses. “Thank you, Carmina, but I believe I shall have to pass on the milk, as it often upsets my sensitive stomach, and I don’t recommend that the children have anything more than water so close to their bedtime.”
Carmina’s stern lips pressed together. “But it will help them for sleep time,” she said.
The professor also smiled easily at her. “I’m afraid I too will pass on the milk, though it was most kind of you to pour us each a glass.”
Carmina looked truly frustrated, and her eyes moved to Ian, Theo, and Carl.
“No, thank you,” Theo said politely.
“No, thank you,” Ian repeated, forcing himself to smile.
“Oh, can’t I have some?” Carl whined before making a small yelping noise. Ian could have sworn he’d seen the earl’s foot come down right on Carl’s toes. “Um … but now that I think about it,” he amended, “maybe my father’s right and I’ve had enough milk for one day.”
Carmina seemed to linger in the doorway, as if she were suddenly suspicious of them all. “You are sure?” she asked one last time. “Milk will put you right to sleep.”
There was something quite eerie about the way she was trying to push a glass of milk on them, and Ian was certain she was up to something. The earl must have sensed it too, because his smile widened and he said, “That is, again, most kind of you, Carmina, but I don’t believe any one of us will have difficulty sleeping tonight. And please, do not stay up late on our account. I can assure you we will be most content this evening. You may take your leave of us now.”
Ian had to marvel at the earl, because although his smile was wide and friendly, his eyes and tone left no room for further argument. Carmina’s lips then pressed together so tightly that they all but disappeared before she gave one curt nod and left the room.
Once she had gone, everyone held perfectly still for several moments before Ian got up quietly and tiptoed toward the door. He could see the cook walking slowly away, as if she was hoping to catch a bit of conversation. When she was finally out of earshot, Ian turned back to the group. “She’s gone.”
The earl let out a sigh of relief but cautioned the group. “We must be very careful for the next twenty-four hours. We don’t want to rouse any suspicions, lest we put the dear Señora Castillo in any sort of danger.”
“Do you think she might be in harm’s way, my lord?” the professor asked.
But it was Theo who answered him. “Yes, Professor, I believe we’re all in a bit of danger now.”
“We must warn her,” the professor declared, his face set deep with worry.
But the earl shook his head sadly. “We cannot risk it, my friend. If our delightful hostess believes our story, then she will have no choice but to dismiss Carmina, and given the loss of the rest of her staff, that would surely put her in a terrible state, with no one left to look after her. How will she manage? And do not forget that Carmina isn’t working alone. If this taxi driver and his patron come round here after we’re gone, I believe the señora would do well to remain blissfully ignorant of our suspicions.”
The professor leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh. “Of course you’re right, my lord,” he said softly before getting wearily to his feet. “And in light of these most distressing circumstances, I shall now cease to dally down here, and find my way upstairs to begin copying the prophecy immediately.”
The others got up as well and everyone headed off to bed most somberly. Ian saw Theo to her room, which was right next to his and Carl’s. “Keep your door locked,” he advised her. He hated that she was forced to take a room of her own, without protection.
“Of course,” she told him. “And you be careful as well.”
He smiled and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry about me,” he said softly. “I can look after myself.”
Theo arched her eyebrow skeptically but she merely said her goodnights and shut the door. Ian waited until he heard the lock click, then headed back to his room, noting that the professor and the earl were whispering quietly in the hallway just outside the professor’s room.
Ian felt better knowing that the earl was looking out for them. His patron caught his eye just as he was about to turn back to his room. “Sleep tight, lad,” he said softly. “We’ll be off by tomorrow evening.”
Ian nodded and joined Carl in their assigned bedchamber. His friend appeared distraught. “I don’t like this business one bit,” Carl said.
Ian yawned tiredly. “I know, mate,” he agreed.
“I think we should keep watch on the hallway,” Carl suggested.
Ian was surprised. The idea of posting a guard hadn’t o
ccurred to him, but now that Carl mentioned it, it seemed like a good one. “Might be a long night for us,” he warned.
“I’m up for it,” Carl said, and Ian remembered the nap Carl had taken that afternoon, which Ian well knew did not guarantee Carl would manage to stay awake during his watch. His friend had a reputation for requiring more than his fair share of sleep.
“You sure?” Ian asked, trying to gauge his friend’s fatigue.
Carl pumped his head enthusiastically. “Of course!”
“Very well. If you see Carmina creeping about the hallway, looking for the journal, go out of the room and act like you’re heading to the loo. That’ll give her pause about sneaking around tonight, at least.”
“Which will give the professor long enough to copy the journal,” Carl said before eyeing Ian, who was swaying on his feet with fatigue. “Why don’t I take the first watch?” he suggested.
Ian smiled gratefully. “That’d be smashing, thanks.” Then he hurried into his nightshirt while Carl wrapped himself snugly in a blanket and took his pillow over to the door, which he opened just a crack before sitting down on the cushion to peer out into the hallway.
After setting the sundial on the small side table under the window, Ian climbed wearily into bed and turned off the lamp, whispering to Carl, “Wake me in a few hours, and I’ll take the next watch till dawn.”
The last thing Ian saw before sleep claimed him was his friend peeking intently out the slight crack in the door.
Several hours later Ian awoke with a start. Something he couldn’t quite place had alerted him, and as he sat up in bed and squinted into the darkness, he heard two things that alarmed him. The first was the subtle snoring of Carl, fast asleep on the floor. The other was the creaking of floorboards just outside their room.
Quick as a flash, Ian dashed out of bed and over to Carl, who was curled up in a ball next to the door. Scowling, Ian leaned over his friend and peered through the crack just as a dark shape moved slowly past. It appeared someone was attempting to move quietly down the hallway.
Ian considered opening the door and confronting the person, but some eerie feeling deep in his bones told him to wait. So he settled for inching the door open enough to poke his head out, and squinted into the darkness.
Lit by the moonlight coming in the front window was the thin figure of Carmina, descending the staircase. And in her hand Ian could just make out a small leather book.
For one brief moment he was so stunned that he forgot himself and gasped. Carmina paused on the staircase and began to turn around, but Ian quickly pulled his head back. He crouched, frozen, until after a few seconds, he could hear the soft creaking of floorboards again as the cook continued to make her way down the stairs.
Without thinking, Ian flew into action. He hurried over to his clothes and grabbed his trousers and shoes and hastily pulled them on. In his rush to get dressed, he must have kicked Carl, who woke with a start. “Ow!” the boy moaned, disconcerted and testy. “What’s happening?”
“You fell asleep!” Ian hissed. “Carmina has the journal! I’m going after her!” And with that he pulled open the door and tiptoed quickly down the stairs, pausing only briefly to figure out which way the cook had gone.
He heard a door creak open in the kitchen. Ian did not hesitate to move toward the noise, and he arrived just in time to see Carmina disappear through the back door.
Ian crept stealthily to the window over the sink and took a peek outside. The maid was heading to the left, down the pathway that cut through the garden. Ian waited until she was well away from the house before following her outside.
Keeping low to the ground, he trailed the maid as she walked quickly out of the garden, through the small patch of woods, and to the road that ran behind the house. Ian was grateful for the moonlight making her silhouette clearly visible, and continued for several hundred meters before he stopped abruptly because he realized Carmina had stopped. She stood out in the open, and next to her, parked on the dirt road, was a pickup lorry with its lights off but the engine running.
Ian darted behind a nearby tree and peeked out just in time to see the cook walk straight to the cab of the lorry and hand over the journal. Ian could hear muffled words exchanged but wasn’t certain what might have been said before the driver handed several bills to her.
Behind him, he heard someone shout in alarm and he knew that Carl had likely alerted people within the house. Glancing quickly back, Ian could just make out lights coming on in the upstairs windows of the home, but when he looked again at the lorry, Carmina was already running quickly back toward the house. Meanwhile, the driver revved the engine and the lorry roared to life; then the engine sputtered and coughed and died almost immediately. The driver frantically attempted to turn it over, and Ian listened with a hammering heart as it whinnied and whined to no effect.
Carmina flew past Ian’s hiding place on her way back to the house, and just as she passed him, Ian made a split-second decision. He sprang from his crouched position and ran as fast as he could toward the back of the lorry, making it to the rear just as the engine finally caught. Ian latched on to the lorry frame and swung his leg over the lip, tumbling into the bed. The old thing sputtered and jolted forward and Ian had to lie down flat or risk falling out of the lorry as it began to move down the road. He’d barely had time to collect himself when something landed right next to him in the bed, and Ian almost cried out in alarm before he realized that Carl was lying in a heap beside him, wearing a huge grin. “What are you doing?” Ian demanded.
“Same thing as you, mate!” Carl said, still wearing the grin. “I saw you climb in here, and I couldn’t very well let you go off alone, now could I?”
Ian then realized what a foolish thing they’d done and how much trouble they were likely in. “Where’s the earl?” Ian asked, close to Carl’s ear. He motioned his friend over to the corner of the lorry bed, well out of the driver’s line of vision.
“Back at the house,” Carl told him. “I woke the professor, who’d fallen asleep at his desk. The journal and the copy he’d been making were both gone, so I asked him to fetch the earl while I ran after you.”
“I don’t know where we’re going,” Ian admitted while the dark countryside whizzed past them.
“You don’t?” Carl said, and Ian suspected that it was starting to dawn on Carl how much danger they could both be in. “The earl will find us,” Carl added after a few moments, but Ian could hear the doubt in his voice. “The important thing is to get the diary back.”
“Yeah,” Ian said. “Any ideas on how we’ll do that?”
“I thought you’d have a plan.”
“Naw, mate,” Ian said. “I didn’t think past jumping into the lorry.”
“Uh-oh,” Carl murmured.
Ian had to agree. They were in way over their heads. The best they could hope for was that the earl had somehow managed to follow them, but as Ian scanned the dark road behind them, he knew that wasn’t likely. “All right,” he said after a bit. “Let’s put our heads together and think of what to do when this lorry finally stops.”
For the next several kilometers, the boys talked through plans, none of which seemed very appealing, until they finally settled on simply waiting to see where the driver took them and assessing what to do then.
THE SECRET KEEPER
The lorry eventually stopped as the first rays of dawn began to turn the dark sky a murky purple. Ian sat up just a bit from his crouched position and took a look about. They seemed to have parked next to a large stadium and the heavy scent of livestock was in the air. “Gaw!” Carl whispered next to him, waving his hand in front of his nose. “What’s that smell?”
But Ian was prevented from responding by the sound of a motorcar approaching the front of the lorry. When he lifted his head just a bit more to see it, he had to squint into the headlights. For a moment he thought the car might pass, but it came to a stop just in front of their lorry. Ian noted that both engines continued t
o run. Worried that the headlights might illuminate him, he ducked back down in the bed and waited with Carl to listen to what happened next.
The boys didn’t have to wait long. Almost immediately they heard a door open, then shut, and footfalls clicked on the cobblestone as someone approached. “You have the journal?” a woman asked, her tongue rolling thickly over the words. Her voice sounded very familiar to Ian.
“You have the money?” the driver responded.
“Of course. But I want to see the journal first.”
Ian and Carl sat as still as possible. They heard some rustling sounds before, “There, you’ve seen it. Now hand over the money.”
The woman did not respond. Instead, her feet clicked away again; then another car door opened and closed before she came back to the lorry. “It is all here in my satchel,” she said, her voice sinister and uncomfortably familiar. Ian knew it, but from where? “Now, give me the journal and I shall think about paying you.”
“Think about paying me?” the driver repeated, as if he couldn’t believe she would have the nerve to withhold his funds.
“The journal!” the woman snapped. “Give it to me!”
But the driver must have thought better about handing over the diary, because he replied, “I think I should keep it until you give me the money.” And then the boys heard something make a distinctly metallic clicking sound and Ian could almost sense the tension in the air ratcheting up several notches. “Hand over the money,” said the taxi driver. “Now.”
The woman seemed to hesitate but then she spat, “You dare pull a gun on me, peasant?”
“Give me the money,” the man repeated, his voice lethal.
Again the woman seemed to hesitate. “I will hunt you down and kill you,” she vowed. Ian felt something heavy thump into the back of the lorry right next to him. He looked over and, to his horror, realized the woman had just thrown the satchel into the bed.