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Chapter Twenty-One

Deo had agreed with Em that he would try to find the other half of the cross this morning, and they would spend the afternoon working on the finds from yesterday. Learning over breakfast of their intention to find the rest of the text, the viscount offered to help Deo dig. Em had been torn between wanting to be there if they found the cross and wanting to work on the finds, but in the end she decided to stay at the house and work on them. So it was himself and Ashford prosecuting the search for the broken base of the cross.

“If it is here at all, it must be buried, but hopefully not too deep. It must have been broken in antiquity. I am beginning to think, deliberately,” said Deo, digging his spade into the soil around the base of the stone tomb. The plan was to work outward from the base in a six-foot radius, with exploratory digs every square foot or so, down to the depth of a foot.

“Did he fall into disgrace with some ancient king?” offered Emrys, digging cheerfully.

“It’s possible. That could explain the partial erasure of the names and title. But somehow, I don’t think so. If that were the case, the tomb would have been desecrated, too. We are damned lucky it wasn’t robbed in antiquity. It must have been forgotten. For which I can only assume the damage, breaking, and burial of the cross was responsible.”

“What’s your theory then?” asked Emrys, stopping to wipe his brow with a handkerchief. They were working on the west side of the tomb, Emrys on the southern and he on the northern end, moving toward each other. They had completed two concentric rows so far and found nothing. Deo surveyed their little holes and mounds of earth, like the work of so many moles! He smiled in whimsy. He missed Em’s presence. Without her, things seemed less vibrant. She injected such enthusiasm and delight into everything. A lick of heat raced through his blood at the memory of last night’s antics. They really should stop; it was dicing with the worst kind of temptation. Yet it was so addictive he didn’t know how to stop.

“Theory, Deo?” prompted Emrys.

Jerked back to the present, Deo stuck his spade in the ground and said, “My theory is that the cross was damaged because of the struggle for supremacy between the Celtic and Catholic versions of Christianity that raged during the sixth and seventh centuries. The Celtic flavor was the older version, endemic to Ireland and Britain, the Catholic version came from Rome. King Oswy of Northumbria was raised in the Celtic faith in Dál Riata, the Irish settlement in Scotland. The chief proponent of the Catholic doctrine was Bishop Wilfrid. He and Oswy fell out and Oswy had him banished by all accounts. But Wilfrid got his way in the end and the Celtic doctrine was all but stamped out eventually.”

“So, our fellow was Celtic Christian then?”

“The cross would seem to indicate he was, yes.” Deo stuck his spade in the ground for a second go at this particular hole, and it hit something hard. “Ah!” he exclaimed, and did it again with the same result. Scraping up a shovelful of earth, he dumped it aside and dug again. “I might have something.”

Emrys stopped digging, and came over to him, while Deo dug out around the irregularly shaped object in the ground.

“I think this might be it!” He grinned at Emrys, and knelt to scrape around the shape with his fingers. The earth was cool and damp. He rose and exposed more of the object with his spade. He had initially uncovered what seemed to be the square, stone base of the cross, apparently tipped over on its side. A bit more digging revealed the rest of a shaft with an angled, uneven end. He knelt again to scrape more earth from around the shape and Emrys joined him.

With the earth clear, they could get their fingers underneath the heavy stone but couldn’t dislodge it from its bed.

“I think we need some rope,” said Deo.

“I’ll get it,” said Emrys, springing to his feet and heading over to the coils of rope still lying by the side of the mound. They looped the rope about the shaft and hauled it upright and, from there, manhandled it out of the hole to lay flat on the grass, with the text side up.

“Go fetch Em, will you? She won’t want to miss this. And tell her to bring the paper and charcoal for rubbing,” said Deo, heading over to fetch the brush, cloths, and water to clean the surface of any earth still clinging to the cross.

“On my way!” said Emrys and trotted off toward the house. He returned twenty minutes later with Em, just as Deo had got the text cleaned.

“You found it!” said Em, dropping to her knees beside him. “Is the text—oh yes, it is! How marvelous!”

“It’s a little damaged because of the break, but the blow seems to have been made from the other side of the shaft, and most of it is legible, I think,” said Deo.

“Let’s see what we can get with the rubbing, shall we?” Em placed the paper she had brought over the stone and applied the charcoal. In a matter of moments, she had the text rendered in charcoal on the paper. “This is so exciting, Deo,” she said, lifting the paper up.

Deo nodded. “Take it back to the house, Em. We will decipher it there. Emrys and I will just tidy up here.”

She smiled and set off with her prize, and Deo watched her go with a besotted grin. He wanted to say to Emrys Isn’t she adorable? But reticence stopped his tongue.

“Yes,” said Emrys.

“What?” said Deo, startled.

Emrys grinned at him and punched him on the shoulder. “Go on, admit it.”

Deo flushed scarlet. “Admit what?”

“How much you adore her. It’s written all over your face, man.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Deo. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for the idea of advertising. Best thing I ever did.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You’re right, I do adore her. She’s—” words failed him, and he shook his head.

“I know,” said Emrys quietly. “I feel that way about Annis.”

Deo looked at him and smiled. “We’re lucky devils.”