“Suleiman?” she shouted as they neared the ruins. They stopped and listened and were rewarded by a faint moan. “Over there. He sounds hurt.”
They clambered over a waist-high wall and rounded a corner, but the figure they encountered was not Suleiman. It was Drovetti.
Hester heard Harry curse. He stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body, but not before she caught sight of the wicked-looking pistol the Italian had leveled at Harry’s chest.
“Good morning!” Drovetti said cheerfully. “I regret to do this to you, my dear, but I must insist that you give me that necklace. Emperor Bonaparte has been seeking it for a long time, you see, ever since he became aware of the legend. He is sure it is his destiny.”
“Napoleon’s safely locked up on Elba,” Harry said coolly. “I fought for two years to make sure of it.”
Drovetti smiled. “You haven’t heard the news? The emperor has escaped his island prison. Even now he marches toward Paris to rally his faithful troops. With the power of Serqet, all Europe will bow to his glory. He will be exceedingly grateful—and generous—to the man who brings it to him.”
Hester took a step forward and placed her hand on Harry’s back. His muscles jumped at her touch, and he tensed as she slid her hand down and wrapped her fingers around the butt of one of the pistols.
“Don’t do it,” he said slowly. He shook his head in a vehement denial, but whether it was directed at herself or Drovetti, Hester didn’t know.
Drovetti chuckled with almost childlike glee, and Hester realized with a start that he was quite mad.
“Oh, I’m afraid I must,” he said cheerfully. “Signora Morden, please do not try to use the pistols Tremayne has behind his back. I will not hesitate to shoot him. And you,” he added softly, “if you do not do exactly as I say. Now, I want you to pull them out and place them on the ground. Slowly.”
With a sigh of defeat, Hester did as she was told. She placed the pistols in the dirt then straightened to stand beside Tremayne. He tried to shove her behind him again, but she held her ground. She would not let him take a bullet meant for her.
“Perfect.” Drovetti smiled approvingly. He motioned with the barrel of the pistol toward her throat. “Now. The necklace.”
Anger heated her blood as Hester began to unfasten the chain. To her distress, it was a struggle to release the clasp, but then, suddenly, it came free. “You are nothing but a common thief,” she said scathingly. “A cheat and a blackguard.”
Drovetti gave an elegant shrug. “I’ve been called far worse. Now, toss the necklace to me.”
Hester was tempted to hurl it at his head, but she was too afraid of him firing the pistol and hitting Tremayne. She threw it in a graceful arc and Drovetti caught it neatly in his free hand. It disappeared into the inner pocket of his coat.
He motioned them back toward a doorway in the wall, set with an open iron gate. “Down there, if you please.”
Stone steps descended into darkness, and Hester shuddered but complied. Harry followed, backing away from Drovetti until they were both several feet lower than him. The Italian smiled as he closed the gate and secured it with a padlock.
“See how noble I am,” he said. “I’m not even going to shoot you. Someone from the village will miss you eventually and come looking—although not before I’m far away from here. I paid that young lad handsomely to forget he’d seen you. It might be a day or two before you’re missed.” He chuckled and tipped his hat. “Addio.”
Tremayne leapt toward the gate and rattled the bars as soon as Drovetti’s footfalls faded, but to no avail; the metal was firmly implanted in the stone, and the wall was in an unusually good state of repair. There wasn’t even space to climb up over it or squeeze beneath it. With a sigh of frustration, he turned and sat on the top step and rested his elbows on his knees. “Bugger.”
Hester silently agreed. “Do you really think Napoleon believes in the power of the necklace?”
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if there’s no truth to the legend, there’s power inbelievingin something. If Bonaparte’s convinced it’s his destiny to win, it’ll give him an edge. Confidence can make all the difference in a battle.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell. I hope Drovetti was lying about his escape. I’ve wasted two years of my life at war. I’m sick to death of it.”
Hester glanced uncertainly down the steps. “Where do you think that goes?”
Harry opened his satchel and withdrew the tinder box and a candle. “We might as well find out. There’s no getting out this way.”
The steps descended belowground and turned into a cavern-like cellar of impressive size, the lower part of which was filled with clear turquoise water. A small amount of light filtered in from somewhere below, sending undulating reflections across Tremayne’s handsome features.
Hester glanced around in interest. “This must be some sort of cistern.” Her voice echoed around the vaulted arches of the ceiling. “The Romans built a whole series of underground aqueducts around here to channel water for irrigation.”
Tremayne sent her an amused glance. “You seem to be spending quite a bit of time in wells and watercourses this week, Lady Morden. Look on the bright side; at least you’re not trapped down here alone. You have the pleasure of my charming company.” He looked around, holding the candle aloft. “It’s rather picturesque.”
“It is notpicturesque. It is wet. And dank. And probably rat-infested.”
“Oh, come. Look at those lovely gothic arches.” Tremayne wiggled his eyebrows. “Here we have a barrel vault.” He pointed out over the water. “And that, there, with a cross in the center, is a groin vault.”
“I don’t care what kind of vault it is,” Hester said irritably. “If it rains, we shall likely be drowned.”
“You said it never rains here,” he reminded her. “If it does, you’ll have to kiss me.”