“Is Dunstaffnage near the water?” Maddock asked.
“Yes. In fact, what remains of it stands on a promontory near the coast, at Ardmucknish Bay, at the confluence of Loch Etive, Loch Linne, and the sea.”
“It’s not exactly close to where we found the sub, but if the Germans were hugging the coast, headed south…” Bones said.
“If you’re on the trail of the true stone,” Calderwood said, “Dunstaffnage is where I’d begin.”
Chapter 12
Dunstaffnage Castle stood on a promontory overlooking Loch Etive to the north at the point where it met Loch Linne. Surrounded on three sides by water, the fourteenth-century fortress loomed dark and lonely in the seemingly perpetual mist. Isla and Grizzly strolled across the manicured lawn, the lush green carpet beneath their feet appearing unnaturally bright in contrast to the castle’s dark gray walls.
As they approached, Isla took the time to admire the rugged beauty of the sturdy fortress. Unlike the ornate palaces of fairy tales, Dunstaffnage was built for a single purpose — defense. The quadrangular structure boasted rounded towers at three corners. In its heyday, it guarded the entrance to the Loch, and the Pass of Brander beyond.
“It’s not as big as I imagined,” Grizzly said. “The longest wall can’t be much more than a hundred feet across, can it?”
“It’s as large as it needed to be,” Isla said, feeling defensive of one of her native country’s landmarks.
“I wasn’t criticizing,” Grizzly said. “Just making an observation.”
“Sorry. I’m on edge.”
The truth was, Isla was embarrassed. Of the two of them, she’d considered herself the expert on the Tuatha treasure. Grizzly was a necessary annoyance, brought along so he wouldn’t dog her trail with a film crew in tow. He’d surprised her the previous day when, after leaving Meikle’s office, he’d suggested they head to Dunstaffnage. Isla’s reminder that the clue had said “beneath Dun Monaidh,” not “beneath Dunstaffnage,” had led to a patronizing lecture about the history of the old castle.
This castle was built atop the ruins of Dun Monaidh, a stronghold of the Gaelic kingdom of Dál Riata, supposedly founded by the legendary king Fergus the Great in the fifth century. Encompassing portions of present-day Ireland and Scotland, the Dál Riatan connection fit with the legend of the Tuatha and their Irish-Scottish link. Considering her family’s background, Isla felt she should have already known that.
It wasn’t that Grizzly knew something she didn’t that bothered Isla. It was the superior attitude he’d adopted since that moment. He seemed to believe himself the leader and seized upon any opportunity to share useless information or to give orders.
“The Dunstaffnage Chapel is about five hundred feet that way,” he said, pointing to the southwest. “There’s not a whole lot left of it these days.”
“You mean that ruined structure standing in plain sight? Thanks for pointing that out.” She didn’t try to temper her acerbic tone.
For his part, Grizzly seemed blissfully unaware of his effect on her. A permanent grin painted his face as they approached the castle.
“I do have to wonder,” he said, “if this place hasn’t been thoroughly excavated after all these years. If there was something beneath it, shouldn’t it have been found by now?”
“We aren’t necessarily expecting to locate the treasure here. We might only be looking for a clue. Something small or innocuous enough to have escaped notice.”
Grizzly rubbed his chin and adopted a thoughtful expression ruined by his vacant stare. “Any ideas what that might be?”
Isla took out her phone and punched up a set of photographs. “As we discussed, the four symbols of the Tuatha are the spear, stone, sword, and cauldron.” She swiped through, showing him images of each. “And then there’s the goddess Danu. Any of these images might be an indicator of the presence of Tuatha, but wouldn’t cause the average archaeologist or historian to bat an eye.”
Grizzly nodded. “And since we’re supposed to be looking ‘beneath Dun Monaidh’ I guess we should also look for trapdoors and hidden passageways.”
Isla doubted archaeologists would have missed any secret doors, but she was growing tired of bickering with the man. She forced a smile, more like a grimace, and nodded. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
They spent the next two hours thoroughly inspecting the partially ruined fortress.
They examined every wall, poked around the foundations of the ruined east and west ranges, and scrutinized the corner towers. Nothing but big, gray blocks and lots of rubble. Grizzly had high hopes for the well, thinking it might afford passage to an area down below, but it had been filled in centuries ago. The gatehouse was a more recent addition and had been remodeled over the years, but they explored it too, paying particular attention to the basement. Still nothing. Hope fading, they climbed to the battlement level and followed the parapet walk around, looking down upon the grassy inner ward and the exterior from above.
“I think we need a new plan,” Grizzly said.
Isla clenched her fists and clamped her jaws shut until she was certain she could reply without a trace of sarcasm. The breeze coming in off the water calmed her, and she breathed deeply. “What do you suggest?” she finally asked.
“Let’s try the chapel.” He pointed in the direction of the ruin. “There’s not much left of it, but there’s no harm in taking a look.”
“It’s worth a shot, I suppose.” Isla doubted they’d find anything, considering how little remained of the house of worship, but no harm in looking.
As they walked, Grizzly launched into an impromptu and fully unnecessary lecture about the history of the Catholic Church in Europe, specifically its practice of absorbing pagan traditions as a means of linking its faith to that of the local populace and bringing new worshipers into the fold.
“The Bible actually forbids bringing a tree inside and decorating it, but that, along with gift-giving and other traditions, were absorbed into Christmas celebrations. Heck, Yuletide has connections to Odin, the wild hunt, and other pagan traditions. Christmas celebrations were actually low-key and kind of boring until the church started melding its practices with those of the pagan.”
Isla squeezed her eyes closed and tried to tune him out. Of course, she immediately stumbled over a rock hidden beneath the lush grass. Grizzly caught her before she fell, which made matters worse.
“Try to watch where you’re going,” he said. “We’ll probably cross rougher terrain than this before this is all over.” Without missing a beat, he launched back into his lecture. “Did you know that Easter is linked to a pagan fertility goddess, which is why bunnies and eggs are part of the celebration? Birth, reproduction…”
“Grizzly,” she said through gritted teeth, “I think we need to go back up to the parapet.”
He stopped short. “Why is that?”
“So I can push you off.”
Hurt flashed over his countenance, but only for a second, to be replaced by his trademark dimwitted grin. “I do talk a lot, don’t I?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Sorry,” he said as they resumed their trek to the chapel. “When I do a cryptid video, I’m expected to keep talking pretty much the whole time. I never know what I might say that’s actually worthwhile, so I say whatever comes to mind and we sort it out in editing.”
Isla giggled, covering it immediately with a cough.
“Anyway,” Grizzly continued, “all of my girlfriends complain about my lecturing. I guess it makes them feel embarrassed about all the things they don’t know.”