Secret of the Stallion (9 page)

“Then one day, Lady Elizabeth disappeared. Nobody ever knew exactly what happened except that Gran said she run off with one of them Roundhead fellows, but I don’t know. A lady like that, all them jewels …”

“Didn’t she take them with her?”

“Not a bit. Left every one behind,” said ’Ank. “It was like she done it to spite the duke, like she was saying
his
jewels weren’t good enough for her.”

’Ank shook his head as if he couldn’t understand Lady Elizabeth’s reasoning. Then he continued his story.

“ ’E was a changed man after that. Never a smile, never a kind word to anyone. It was like he couldn’t trust anybody ever again. The only being in the whole world that he trusted were his horse. And the horse come to be everything to him.”

“Oh, dear,” Enrico said. “No wonder he became bitter.”

“Bitter is the right word. He become cruel, too. And ’eartless.”

“Artless?” Enrico asked.

“Heartless,” Lisa explained.

’Ank went on. “It was the Civil War then, you know. The Roundheads controlled a lot of the towns around here, but not Cummington. The duke hated them Roundheads, not because they opposed his king, but because one had stolen his bride. He would rather have died than give them the satisfaction of having so much as one pearl of Elizabeth’s jewels. He took every single piece of jewelry he’d ever given her—the whole was worth a fortune—and he buried it all in the one place he knew it would be safe—the place no man but him dared venture.”

“The stallion?” Lisa asked. ’Ank nodded solemnly.

“Right under the stallion’s stall, mind you. No treasure was worth a man’s life, and it would take a life to move
the stallion. The duke ’ardly went out after that. He provided some of his own men to fight for the king, but he didn’t really care what happened in the war, as long as his lands and treasure was safe from the ’ands of the Roundheads.

“And then, one night, there was a fire. Nobody knows how it started, not even Gran. The blaze swept through the stable, destroying the building and all that was in it—”

“The stallion?” Lisa asked.

“Aye, the stallion. He was gone. In the end, there weren’t nothing but ashes left. They couldn’t even find the remains of the horse to bury. There was no sign of the stable, the horse, or the treasure. The duke didn’t talk of the treasure, though. He spoke only of his horse and he swore revenge on those who murdered the steed. He was convinced it was the rebel Roundheads, but nobody was ever punished for the fire. The duke spent the next twelve months stalking about his castle. He wouldn’t leave the grounds, nor talk to a livin’ soul.

“And then, exactly twelve months to the day after the mysterious fire, the duke was found dead. There’s no explanation for his death. He wasn’t sick; he didn’t do anything to himself and there were no wounds. He was just dead. He was found, lyin’ amid the foundations of the old stable. In his right hand, he clutched a single fire opal.”

There was a long silence as Lisa and Enrico absorbed the amazing story.

“He’d been digging the treasure up?” Enrico finally asked.

“There weren’t no signs of any digging,” ’Ank said. “And there never ’ave been. To this day, nobody knows how the fire that killed the stallion started. Nobody knows how the duke died. And nobody knows what become of the treasure. Nothing but the fire opal ’as ever been seen of it.”

“What ’appened to the castle?” Lisa asked. “I mean happened.”

“Once the duke was dead them Round’eads took it for their own.”

“And the treasure?” asked Lisa.

“Gran said it would be found someday.”

“Really?” Lisa whispered.

“Yes,” ’Ank said solemnly. “The duke told ’im, and ’e told ’is son and ’is son told ’
is
son and so on down to me that the treasure will be found one day by a rider with foyre in his ’eart.”

The old man’s eyes sparkled in the dim light. It sent a chill of excitement through Lisa. It was a thrill and a promise—both at once.

“What a wonderful story!” Lisa said when she could speak.

Enrico nodded. Then he took her hand again. “I think it’s time to get back to the hotel,” he said.

It definitely was that. Lisa had to hurry. She couldn’t wait to tell the story to Stevie and Carole!

“ ‘…
AND THE TREASURE
will only be found by a rider with a foyre in ’is ’eart,’ ” Lisa said, finishing the story for her friends.

“Foyre in ’is
art?
” Stevie asked.

“Fire in his
heart
,” Lisa said. “That’s the way ’Ank says things. It’s an odd accent, but you’ll get used to it. Wait until you meet him!”

“How romantic!” Stevie said.

“That duke really loved his horse,” Carole remarked.

“Definitely,” Lisa agreed.

The three of them were in their pajamas in the room at the inn. Max had already hushed them and told them to go to sleep three times, but old ’Ank’s story was too good to wait until morning. Carole and Stevie loved it just as much as Lisa had.

“It
is
a great story,” said Carole. “But I wonder if people actually believe it. I mean if there were a treasure, somebody would have found it in three hundred and fifty years.”

“That kind of story brings treasure-hunters for generations,” said Stevie. “People are still tracking down supposed sunken galleons and pirate ships.”

“And finding the treasures, too,” Stevie said. “I know I read about one near Florida, I think it was. There were zillions of dollars’ worth of treasure.”

“Under the ocean is different from underground,” Lisa said logically. “Enrico and I were looking at that big old oak tree—remember it?—and trying to figure out if it was there when the duke was alive. I thought it was possible, but he didn’t agree. The only thing we can be sure of is that the stones of the castle are the same.”

“How could anybody even know for sure where the stallion’s stable was? It burned to the ground, remember? All we know is that it was outside of the castle. Lisa’s right. Nothing’s the same.”

“Water would be the same,” Stevie said. “Where there was a river three hundred and fifty years ago, there would probably be a river now.”

“Or a stream,” Lisa said.

“And any stable would have to have a water source,” said Stevie. There was a look in her eye that indicated she was definitely getting an idea.

“Oh, stop it,” Carole said. “Believe me, those jewels are long gone.”

“I bet she’s right,” said Lisa. “Remember, the Roundheads took over the castle after the duke died. If they’d found the jewels, they would have just taken them. They wouldn’t have made any great announcement. Either they never were there—like what if Lady Elizabeth actually took them herself?—or they were found by someone else.”

“But who could keep the secret?” Stevie asked. She began talking more quickly—just the way she always did when she got one of her harebrained ideas. “All we have to do is to dig a little bit. They can’t be all that deep. Or maybe they can … do you remember seeing a hardware store in town? We could probably pick up some shovels, maybe a metal detector—”

“
Stevie!
” Lisa said exasperatedly. “I think you’re missing the point. The story is just that—a story. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not because the jewels aren’t what’s important.”

“They’re important to me,” Stevie protested.

“I bet they’d be important to Veronica, too,” said Carole.

That made them all stop and think. Of course, Veronica would learn about a story like that. And, of course, she’d believe it. Most important, she’d think she was the one who was supposed to unearth the missing gems.

“That’s why the little sneak was walking around the grounds!” Stevie hissed. “Why, if she thinks she can beat us to the treasure—”

“Stevie! Or should I say
Veronica
,” Lisa said pointedly.

“Am I that bad?” Stevie asked.

“Only sometimes,” Lisa said, calming her friend. “But don’t think about the jewels, think about the story. When Enrico and I were walking back here tonight, the moon was shining overhead and I knew it was the very same moon that had been shining when the duke lived at the
castle. Maybe that moon was watching when he buried his treasure to hide it from the rebellious parliamentarians. And perhaps those Roundheads found the treasure themselves. Maybe some of that wealth helped them overthrow Charles the First. Maybe it was the duke’s money that sustained Oliver Cromwell while he ruled. And we’re here, where it all happened. We don’t need to find the treasure to love the story. Can’t you just see that man, riding his stallion?”

Carole shook her head. “There is something wrong there, you know. No horse should be so unmanageable. It’s not the horse’s fault, either. It’s the rider who’s to blame when a horse is wild. I bet that man beat his horse. That would explain it. It would make any horse wild and unmanageable. I wish I’d been there. If I’d been there, I would have made him stop hurting the stallion. Then maybe he wouldn’t have buried the treasure in the stable and maybe the stallion would have lived and the treasure would have been found—”

“Hold it,” Lisa said. “I think we’re losing track of what’s important here.”

“What’s that?” asked Carole.

“We can’t change the past, so we have to deal with the present. And the present question is what are we going to wear to the ball?”

“Not the duke’s jewels, I guess,” Stevie conceded.

“I guess you’re right about that,” said Carole.

“Well, if we don’t have jewels and fancy dresses, I think we should go as Roundheads,” said Lisa.

“No jewels at all?” Stevie asked. “Not even these?” She jumped off her bed and burrowed through her suitcase. After a few minutes, during which a pile of clothes grew on the floor next to the suitcase, she drew a long string of pearls from the suitcase’s side pocket.

“Where did you get those?” Carole asked. She had no idea Stevie had such nice jewelry.

“Oh, the drug store,” Stevie said. She draped the pearls over her neck and tugged at them to straighten them out. She tugged too hard, though. The string holding them snapped, and pearls scattered onto the floor and began rolling every which way.

“Wait! I’ll help!” said Lisa, diving for an errant pearl headed for a permanent hiding place under the radiator.

“Here are some,” said Carole, delivering a handful to Stevie.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Stevie assured them. “I think I paid three dollars and twenty-nine cents for the whole string of them. I’d never wear them. I just thought they were funny.”

“Oh,” Lisa said, withdrawing her hand from under the radiator. She opened her fist to see if she’d retrieved the pearl, but all she had was a dust bunny.

The girls sat back down on their beds.

“So, Roundheads it is,” Stevie said.

“I bet Veronica finds a way to dress as a Cavalier,” Carole said.

“I’m sure she will,” said Lisa. “The last time I saw her, she was looking for a fax machine!”

Stevie and Carole laughed. It was
so
like Veronica!

“Maybe we should restring these beads and give them to her to wear. We’d have to tell her they are real pearls, though. She’d never wear fakes.”

“She wouldn’t know a fake if she saw it,” Lisa said. “What do you think, Carole?”