The viscount found a stout stick and set to helping the boys uncover the stone while the girls crowded round for a view of the buried treasure.
It took them ten minutes of industrious digging and scraping to reveal the whole of the stone. Annis was excited to see that her guess of a Celtic cross was correct. It was incomplete, being only the upper half of a cross. The lower extremity had clearly been broken with a diagonal crack sometime in its history, answering the question as to why it was lying flat on its back instead of standing upright.
As the viscount worked to clear the dirt from the markings, the intricate scrollwork was revealed and within it some clumsily marked letters, possibly in Latin.
“This must be late Roman, I think. I wish my Latin was better, I might be able to read it.” she said in frustration. “My lord, can you read it?” she asked.
He bent over the inscription running his fingers over it. Some of the letters were very faint or missing altogether.
“I can’t read the name, I think it has been partially erased, but this bit ishic iacit, which means ‘lies here,’ and this isfilis—‘son of.’ Again the name has been damaged. So, this is the burial stone of some fellow, but I can’t tell you who.”
“Is the grave here then?” asked Emanuel.
The viscount shrugged. “It may be, but then this could have just been tossed here, given that the base has been lost.”
“Can we dig and find out?” pressed Emanuel.
“Not today. We will need shovels, not sticks. And in any case, we will need the duke’s permission to start digging up his grounds.”
Emanuel looked disappointed but accepted the viscount’s dictum.
The servants appeared just then, and they all left the interesting find to have refreshments and sit under the trees out of the sun.
Chapter Three
The find ofthe Celtic cross formed a subject of conversation over dinner that night, Emrys raising it with the duke.
“The boys are keen to dig and see if there is a grave underneath it. It may predate the Keep by five hundred years or more according to Miss Pringle,” he said, nodding to her down the table. “Are you amenable to digging it up, Robert?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll write to Aberdeen of the Antiquities Council about it. If you’ve found something of note he’ll want it recorded. You say you couldn’t make out the names?”
“No, they appeared to have been damaged.”
“Damnatio memoriae,” remarked the duke cutting into his beef.
“Yes, very likely. Wonder who he upset, poor fellow,” said Emrys.
The conversation passed to other matters, and at the end of the meal the ladies withdrew, leaving himself and Robert to enjoy a port or two.
“How are you bearing up?” asked Robert when the servants finally left them alone.
Emrys shrugged, “Well enough.” He toyed with his glass.
“If there is anything I can do...” said the duke awkwardly.
“Thank you, but there is nothing.”
An uncomfortable silence fell, and Robert tried again. “Sarah says she may have found a nanny for you...”
“Yes, she mentioned. The woman is coming at the end of the week. I’ve tried several, but the girls haven’t liked them.”
“It must be difficult. How are they?”
“Up and down. They have good days and bad. It helps having playmates. It was a good notion to invite the Watson tribe.” He sipped the port.
“You’ve lost weight—Sarah remarked on it.”
Emrys smiled ruefully. “Well, that’s one good thing to come out of this.”
