The Wild Baron (Baron 1)

Susannah was looking only at her husband. “I will be all right. Don’t worry, Rohan.”

Tibolt was right, Rohan thought. She looked quite fit. Her eyes were sparkling with light and determination. Then he prayed. Who the hell knew what that liquid was?

Tibolt said nothing more, merely backed away from the three of them and leaned against the passage wall. He kept the gun pointed at Susannah.

Suddenly, he shouted, “I was right! By God, those old fools had it all wrong. For centuries they had it wrong! I’ve won!”

They stared at him in confusion. Rohan yelled at him, “What do you mean, you’re right and the old fools were wrong? What are you talking about?”

“This,” Tibolt said, scooping the reliquary up under his arm, “isn’t the Devil’s Vessel. Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Susannah said. “What is that goblet? Why did you make me drink holy water out of it?”

“I made you drink the holy water to ensure that it wasn’t a tool of the devil, fashioned to destroy anyone who drank from it. That’s been the legend passed down—that anyone who drinks from the goblet dies a vile death. But it was a lie, passed down by all those old fools so no one would search for it. Just look at you—you didn’t die, you didn’t even sicken. You survived. You look healthier than you did before you drank from it. There is this light in your eyes that you didn’t have before.”

“This is nonsense, Tibolt,” Rohan said.

Tibolt only laughed. He paused a moment, looking at each of them in turn. “This divine magic isn’t dangerous at all. This will give me immortality. This will make me the most powerful man on this earth.”

He laughed even as he grabbed Susannah’s arm and jerked her toward him. “You want to know, don’t you? You want to know what it is, what it represents. The lot of you are too stupid to figure it out. None of you has the vision to grasp what you were really dealing with, much less understand it.

“All the clues were there, all of them, but you saw nothing. Now it doesn’t matter. It’s mine, all mine!”

“What is it, damn you?” Phillip shouted at him.

Tibolt ignored him, saying, “Now, Susannah, you and I are leaving here. Don’t move, Rohan. She’s coming with me. Any of you think to attack me, think again.”

She didn’t move.

“Get up and walk or I’ll shoot your damned husband! I will kill him, you know.”

“Susannah, love, are you all right?”

He’d called her love. She raised her head and gave him a blinding smile. “Yes,” she said. “I’m all right. Don’t worry about me.”

“He had better worry about you, Susannah. If you don’t do exactly as I tell you, I will hurt you badly. To kill a little whore like you wouldn’t bother me at all. You do know that now, don’t you, brother?”

Rohan nodded. “Yes, but it’s difficult to accept. When did you change, Tibolt?” He wondered if Tibolt would answer him. He desperately wanted time, just moments of time in which Tibolt might look away or trip or be distracted enough so that he could leap upon him. To his surprise, his brother laughed, then shook his head. “You fool. I didn’t change. I simply went underground and waited. I knew there must be something for me, and there was.” He whispered, “I have it now, no one else. It’s mine.” He shook his head, his eyes clearing. “Now my every wish will come true.”

“You will not tell us what it is?”

They knew Tibolt was playing with them, taunting them. He just smiled at them, clearly enjoying himself.

“Did you kill Bishop Roundtree?”

Tibolt flicked a glance toward Phillip. He laughed again and shook his head. “No, you’ll not want to believe it, but it was his little butler, Roland, who killed him. I came in on them after the little sod had struck the bishop in the center of the forehead. He was whimpering like a lost little boy, the pitiful sod, was rocking back and forth over the bishop’s body while he sobbed in his hands. I told him to keep his mouth shut and he just might get away with it. Then I searched and searched the bishop’s study. I found nothing, as you well know, since you did. I left but moments before you arrived. I assume that Roland had cooked up an excellent tale for you and the magistrate?”

“I don’t believe you,” Susannah said. “No, Roland was much affected by his master’s death. He found his body and vomited. He cried and cried. He was distraught. No, it wasn’t Roland, it couldn’t have been.”

“The bishop,” Tibolt said, contempt deep in his voice, “was a damned pederast. Roland suited his fancy for a while, and so he took him in. But then he found Teddy, through our careful planning, naturally, and was preparing to send pretty little Roland on his way. It still amazes me how Teddy managed to flirt with the old bastard without vomiting, but he did. The bishop wanted him powerfully bad. And when the bishop told Roland, the miserable little bastard killed him in a jealous rage. Enough of this,” Tibolt said. “The two of you stay right where you are. Susannah, carry the branch of candles. I’ll be right behind you.” Then

he blew out the single candle. Soon Rohan and Phillip were plunged into darkness.

“Stay by the skulls, gentlemen, or I’ll shoot the little whore.”

Rohan immediately took off his boots. He held them in one hand and began walking soundlessly after Tibolt. Phillip quickly followed suit.

The walk back to the ladder seemed to take only a moment. Suddenly he heard a shriek, and Susannah came hurtling into him, knocking them both back against Phillip.