The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

“You little bitch!” He struck her hard in the jaw with his fist. She cried out, then sprawled unconscious on top of him. “No, brother, don’t you move or I will kill you. Stay back, both of you.”

“No, Rohan, no.” Phillip’s voice was quiet, calm.

“Now, let me roll her off me and we’ll see what we’ve got here. Stay back, Rohan, she is all right.”

He was soon on his knees in front of the cask. “Both of you, back up another two steps. That’s right, against all those lovely skulls.”

Tibolt fit the tiny key into the lock. Nothing happened. He cursed, gently working the tiny key back and forth

. Finally, the key turned.

It was now or never, Rohan thought, ready to lunge. At that moment, Tibolt raised his head, smiled and pointed the gun at Susannah’s chest. “Yes, Rohan, just try it.”

Rohan held up his hands, not moving. He watched Tibolt push up on the lid of the cask. He saw that Susannah had raised herself up and was staring at that cask.

“Are you all right, Susannah?”

“Yes, but a bit blurry.”

Tibolt wasn’t looking at any of them now, but he held the pistol close to Susannah’s breast.

He stared down into the cask. His eyes widened, overwhelming joy broke over his face. “The Devil’s Vessel,” he said, his voice exultant. “Yes, yes, it is exactly as I had imagined it to be.” He was caressing it with his hands. “So old, so blackened, just as it should be. I never believed it had anything to do with the devil, but we will soon see.”

“What is it?” Rohan took a step forward.

32

“DON’T MOVE, BROTHER.” SLOWLY, TIBOLT LIFTED A very old goblet from the reliquary. It was gold, but so old that it was seamed in black. It was plain, no ornament, no jewel to decorate it. It stood about eight inches high. It was tarnished, but somehow it seemed to shine in the dim light.

“So this is the Devil’s Vessel,” Phillip said. “It is indeed a vessel, a goblet, a very old cup. But what is its significance? What is it?”

“We will soon see. Take the goblet, Susannah. Yes, be very careful. As Derencourt says, it is so very old.” Tibolt reached into his pocket and drew out a flask. “Hold the cup steady.” He poured only a few drops into the goblet.

“And now, we will see,” Tibolt said. “You will drink from the goblet, Susannah.”

Rohan was frantic. “No, Susannah, don’t drink!”

Tibolt cocked the gun and aimed it at her head. “Actually, Rohan, it’s holy water, not poison. Now, Susannah, you will drink or I will shoot Rohan.”

“Susannah, you will not give yourself in my place. You will not be the sacrifice. Throw the goblet down.”

“If you care so very much for him, Susannah, you will drink now or he will die.”

She looked at Rohan. He was pale, ready to leap upon Tibolt, but for Phillip’s hand on his arm. “It will be all right,” she said, “I promise you it will be all right.” Then she smiled at him and raised the goblet to her mouth. She let the cool water touch her lips. It tasted strangely sweet.

“Drink it all,” Tibolt said. “Now, damn you.”

She tilted the goblet and drank down the few drops, then she swallowed.

Tibolt said nothing, he only stared at her. “Put the goblet back into the cask.”

She did as he instructed.

“Now stand up, Susannah.”

“It was poison, wasn’t it, you damned little sod?” Phillip grabbed Rohan’s arm, jerking him back.

“Wise of you, Derencourt. I hesitate to make my brother a cripple.” He turned to Susannah. “You look quite fit.”