Natalie tried to keep up with Sir Edris and Reg. “Where are we going?”
Now outside the cathedral, they hurried along a dimly lit side street, trying not to draw attention to themselves. This was difficult, considering they were all covered in dirt and Natalie was running in a torn and filthy dress.
“We’re going to get to Brago before he reaches King Michael,” said Sir Edris.
Peering the way they’d come, Reg suddenly stopped and gripped Sir Edris’s arm. They both glanced over their shoulders, then darted into a darkened alleyway. Natalie blinked and began to ask what was wrong when Reg pulled her into the shadows with them. He put a muddy finger over her lips.
“Shhhh! Stay still and be quiet.”
For many long minutes, they stood motionless in the dark—Reg with his muscular arms wrapped around Natalie, and Sir Edris with his back pressed against the side of a building, sword drawn. Then a figure passed by the alley. It was Brago, and he was letting fly a litany of curses even Natalie wouldn’t have said in public.
When he’d gone, Sir Edris tapped Reg and pointed the way Brago went, then up the alley they were hiding in. Reg nodded and let go of Natalie, giving her a hint of a smile. Then he quietly slipped around the corner and followed Brago.
Sir Edris took Natalie’s hand. “Come with me,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
Reluctantly, Natalie followed the knight out through the other end of the alley and down another street.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Did you see who that was? We could have—”
The knight shushed her. A handful of people still walked the streets, eyeing Natalie and her dirt-covered dress.
Sir Edris pulled her along. “We’ll talk later. First, we need to get out of sight.”
He led her to a dilapidated house in the Old Quarter of town and entered without knocking.
“Who lives here?” Natalie whispered.
Sir Edris closed the door and peered out a partially boarded-up window. “I do, on occasion.”
“You do?”
“Sometimes it’s best to be hidden from prying eyes. I can’t do that in a tavern or an inn.” He seemed to see something he expected. “Good. He’s coming.”
“Brago?” Natalie fumbled with her knife. “Here?”
“No. Not Brago. An informant of mine.”
Somebody sprang lightly up the rickety stairs and across the porch. Sir Edris opened the door. “What do you know?”
A small figure popped into the room.
“Nathaniel!” Natalie called out.
At first, the boy seemed puzzled by the name. He blinked at Natalie. Then recognition dawned on him. “You! Nat, wasn’t it?” He took her hand and kissed it, heedless of the blood and dirt. “You look, well…different! Filthy, but still pretty beyond compare!”
“You can flirt later,” Sir Edris said hurriedly. “What do you know about tonight? What the hell happened?”
Nathaniel plopped into a dusty chair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sir Edris tossed him a small pouch. The boy looked in it, then shoved it into his pocket.
“Randell and two of his men went into the cathedral around ten o’clock.” Nathaniel crossed his legs, leaned back comfortably. “They were immediately followed by three others, newcomers who were smart enough to let others do all the hard work.”
Sir Edris snorted a laugh. “Then they couldn’t have been too new. Who were they?”
“I didn’t see them clearly, but Randell must have known he was being followed, because two more of his men were following the newcomers, if you get me. Eight went in, only seven came out.”
“Who came out first? Did they have the harp?”
“The newcomers ran out, chased by Randell and three of his men. I’m guessing the fourth stayed behind?”
“Permanently,” Sir Edris said, picking cobwebs and pieces of tree roots out of his beard. “Ran out, you say? Chasing the newcomers?”
“Swords drawn and their blood up.”
“So nobody had the harp?”
“It didn’t look like it.”
“Then what?” Sir Edris asked. “What happened after that?”
“Then you and Reg showed up.”
“How long after Randell left?”
Nathaniel considered this. “Three minutes, if that.”
“Three minutes!” Sir Edris paced across the room. “That would explain why Randell’s man was still alive when we found him.”
“He was alive?” Natalie cried. “And you…you—?”
“I ended his suffering. Trust me, Nat. He would’ve preferred to go the way he did, rather than slowly bleeding to death or being eaten by rats. He would have done the same for me.”
“You look much better with your hair down,” Nathaniel told Natalie. “And the dress, if it was clean, would make you look real splendid!”
“Enough of that,” Sir Edris interjected. “Tell me what happened after we went in.”
Nathaniel flicked his chin toward Natalie. “Then this one shows up, pulling on the front doors like she was about to rip them off their hinges. After that, she went to the side and busted a window—actually smashed it to bits! Can you believe it?” He chuckled. “Who smashes a cathedral’s window?”
“I had no choice!” said Natalie.
“Never mind the window; it can’t be helped.” Sir Edris strode back and forth. “That was what, about five minutes after we went in?”
“About that.”
“What about Brago? When did he arrive?”
“Right before you left.”
“Right before?”
Nathaniel smiled. “He was in the shadows across from me while you, Reg, and your pretty girl here ran out.”
“He didn’t see you, did he?”
Nathaniel snorted, offended.
“So Brago went in after we did,” Sir Edris muttered as he stroked his dirty beard.
“I didn’t say he went in. He tried, but thanks to your daughter here and her smashed window, monks were all over the place by then. As soon as Brago tried to enter, he ran into Father Bartholomew. Boy, he was furious! Seemed to think Brago had something to do with what had happened.”
“He didn’t even get to the catacombs?” Sir Edris asked, puzzled. “Odd.”
The latch on the front door turned. Natalie nearly leapt out of her skin, but then Reg slipped into the house.
“Well?” said Sir Edris.
“He doesn’t have it,” Reg replied. “He’s sitting in the Goose and Gander, drinking heavily. He’s as angry as all get out; nobody will even sit within twenty feet of him. The bartender was about to tell him to leave, but I warned him off.”
“The Gander?” Nathaniel chuckled. “I’d be angry, too, if I had to drink there.”
“The harp wasn’t in the catacombs,” Sir Edris told Reg. “We got lucky this time.”
“So that only leaves—”
Sir Edris lifted a finger to silence Reg, then turned to the boy. “Thank you so much for your services, Roland.” He gave Nathaniel a few more coins—all gold.
“It’s always a pleasure to assist you, sir.” The boy made for the door as he counted the coins. “If you need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me!”
He tipped an imaginary hat, winked his good eye at Natalie, and closed the door behind him.
“Roland?” Natalie repeated doubtfully. “He told me his name was Nathaniel!”
“You don’t expect him to tell anybody his real name, do you?” said Sir Edris. “That’s something worth remembering, Natalie: always keep as much as you can to yourself.” He raised an eyebrow at Reg.
“I know,” said Reg. “I need to be more careful.”
“Exactly. You almost gave away a vital piece of information.”
“What’s this all about?” Natalie asked. “Those tunnels under the cathedral. What do they have to do with the harp?”
“Alas”—Sir Edris sat in the chair the boy had vacated—“evidently nothing.”
“Remember what we discussed?” Reg asked Natalie. “About Balen’s family dying out?”
Natalie shook her head.
“Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. Balen was this brilliant musician. Although, personally, I think he was some sort of witch who cast spells through his music.”
“Like I said, that’s a dangerous thing to say,” Sir Edris told Natalie, “so don’t repeat it.”
Natalie nodded, then motioned for Reg to go on.
“So he was brilliant; he stopped wars and calmed people’s nerves. He even killed an ogre with a lute string.”
“Allegedly,” Sir Edris added.
“Allegedly,” Reg agreed. “So, anyway, King Harold the Elder gave him a harp of gold and sapphire. It’s worth a fortune.”
“It’s priceless.”
“Right. That’s why all the kings are looking for it.”
“They don’t care about its value,” said Sir Edris. “They just want it to one-up each other. You see, Nat, this isn’t about money or a gold harp. It’s about prestige and power. Do you understand what you’ve stumbled in to? The person who finds the harp and gives it to a king will get more than four thousand Culvarian gold coins. They’ll gain influence. And if you have enough influence, your enemies tend to disappear. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah.” Natalie nodded. “I think I do. Go on—what happened to the harp?”
“Nobody knows,” said Reg. “But when Balen died, it was assumed the harp went to his grandson, Terrance. Terrance was a musician, as well, but he and Balen despised each other.”
“Why didn’t the harp go to his children?” Natalie asked, confused.
“You’re telling the story all wrong,” said Sir Edris. “Here, let me tell it.” He leaned forward. “Balen had two things he loved above all else: his music, and his daughter, Eleanor. Ever hear the song ‘Ode to the Starflower?’”
“Yes, of course,” Natalie said. “It’s lovely.”
“Eleanor was Balen’s starflower. That’s what the name Eleanor means.”
“So why didn’t she get the harp?”
“I’m getting to that. You see, Eleanor married Sir Walter of Pilner. They had one child: Terrance. Unfortunately, Eleanor and Sir Walter died before Balen did. Balen, you see, lived to be over a hundred years old. It’s said he was in excellent health right up to his very last day.”
“So”—Natalie tried to appear as if she comprehended the significance of all this—“Balen’s possessions went to this Terrance, who didn’t like his grandfather.”
“Yes and no. As I said, Balen had only two loves. Money wasn’t one of them. He gave away most of what he had, so when he died, there wasn’t much left for the grandson.”
“Which set off the grandson something fierce,” added Reg.
Now Natalie was confused again. “So he gave away the golden harp?”
“Unlikely.” The knight sat back in his chair. “The harp disappeared. If he’d given it away, somebody would have remembered. Our assumption was that Terrance had it, that’s why we checked his body.”
“His body?”
“He paid the church enough to be buried in the catacombs.”
“First right, second back, third up,” Natalie repeated. “That was his body, the skeleton you were examining?”
“So it would seem. But it didn’t have a harp, or any indication of where it would be hidden, so that means Terrance wasn’t buried with it.”
“Wait!” said Natalie, even more confused. “How could he have been buried with a harp? They’re…” She lifted her hand to about five feet off the ground.
“It wasn’t that big,” said Reg.
“Even a king wouldn’t want to spend that much gold on a present. We believe the harp was of the variety you hold, you know?” Sir Edris pretended to play a small harp tucked in one arm.
“It probably wasn’t even a real harp.” Reg peered around the yellowing curtains to check outside. The night was growing old. “It probably didn’t work. It was just a gift, an ornament, if you will.”
“In any case, it doesn’t matter—the harp wasn’t there,” Sir Edris said. “My guess is Balen did something with it before he died. He might have melted it down, for all we know. He was that spiteful. Given what he’d done to his grandfather’s body, I wouldn’t have put it past him.”
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked. “What did the grandson do with Balen’s body?”
Reg stepped away from the window. “He burned it.”
“Burned it!”
“And threw the ashes into the Green River. Or at least, so it’s said.”
Sir Edris got to his feet. “Balen decreed that he wanted to be laid to rest with his daughter, but the grandson had other ideas. Again, he wasn’t the pleasant sort.”
“So the question is,” Natalie said slowly, thinking everything through, “where would a spiteful failed musician hide his grandfather’s golden harp?”
“Exactly!” Sir Edris snapped his fingers, then pointed at Natalie. “And if we can answer that, we’ll win this damned quest and avenge your family.”