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Theo stopped, halfway into a sprawl, and propped himself on one elbow, looking at her. ‘I am searching alone, you are not…well.’
‘I am perfectly well. It isn’t an illness.’ Elinor shut her eyes and snuggled into the Theo-smelling soft wool. ‘And it certainly isn’t an excuse for missing the fun.’
‘Fun?’ She could hear him yawning. Perhaps he had managed as little sleep as she had last night. ‘And what are we going to say if we are caught down there, pray?’
‘That we are rather, er, sophisticated in our tastes and wanted to make love at the scene of the infamous orgies?’ she suggested sleepily.
There was a gasp of laughter from Theo. ‘Now that is another image you have put into my imagination that I really, truly, did not want there.’
A person would need to be not sophisticated, but downright perverse, to want to be anywhere near this chamber, let alone making love in it, Elinor decided, shivering in the semi-darkness at two the next morning. Theo was pacing, muttering under his breath; she was perched on the unpleasant stone slab, waiting to do something useful.
‘If I was conducting a semi-ritualistic orgy,’ he announced at length, ‘I think I would want as much drama as possible.’
‘I agree,’ Elinor nodded vigorously, trying not to speculate about what was making scuffling noises in a far corner.
‘So—I produce the Chalice and all the other items of plate with a flourish. From where?’ He frowned at her. ‘Would you mind very much lying down?’
‘As the sacrifice?’ He nodded, looking as happy about it as she felt. ‘All right. Like this?’ Elinor lay down and stretched up her hands to catch the iron rings. Theo seemed to tower above her in the flickering light, the shadows making a mask out of his face and the focused light from the dark lanterns setting his hair aflame. It took an effort of will to remember that this was play-acting. He threw up his arms dramatically as though commanding an audience.
‘Now what? I wouldn’t bend down, that loses impact. There is nothing in front of me…’ He spun on his heel, coat tails flaring out behind him, and flattened his upraised palms against the stonework. There was silence. ‘Elinor, come and help me—there is something here.’
She came and stood beside him, the two of them feeling the stone, running their fingertips along the mortar lines. He was right—there was something odd about the feel of that patch of wall, but whatever it was, it was well hidden.
‘I give up,’ Elinor said after ten minutes, standing back to suck at a torn nail.
‘Damn it.’ Exasperated, Theo thumped the wall with his clenched fist, then swore with the pain of it. There was an odd grinding noise and there, in front of him, was wood. ‘That’s a keyhole.’
She saw the gleam of his teeth as he smiled at her, then the picklocks were clinking in his fingers and she stepped back to give him room. It seemed to take for ever, and it seemed too that the ghosts of the chamber were crowding in behind them, eager to see their treasures again, rustling and breathing in the darkness.
Fighting her lurid imaginings, Elinor kept her gaze firmly on Theo’s hands until the panel swung open on to the gleam of precious metals, the sparkle of gemstones and the dull sheen of leather. ‘Is it there?’ She craned to see past his shoulder.
‘Yes. You should not look at it.’ He sounded oddly breathless.
‘Well, I am going to! For goodness’ sake, Theo, you cannot expect me to close my eyes now.’
‘Very well.’ He reached in and lifted it out, a vast vessel that took both his hands to bear, and set it down on the stone platform. ‘Just don’t ask me to explain anything.’ Elinor crouched down and studied it.
From the square base four columns, uneven and yellowish white in colour, rose from pairs of great oval opals to support the silver cup itself. There were six sides, each etched and chased and each with a scene in almost full relief of small figures sculpted in gold, The arched lid rose above it, ribbed, with sprawling figures tumbling down in utter abandon.
Elinor reached out a hand and touched the supporting shafts. ‘Ivory, with a pair of opals at the base of each.’ The shafts were oddly veined and ridged and she ran her hand down one, marvelling at the tactile finish. ‘It’s a—’ She got a grip on her voice, even as she snatched her hand back. ‘They are all male, er…members.’
‘Yes.’ She could not look at Theo, but neither could she tear her eyes away from the object. The tiny, perfectly detailed figures were men and women and—animals? Some scenes she could understand, some, as she turned the object slowly around, mystified her. It was arousing, disgusting, beautiful and beastly. She wiped her fingers on her skirts as though they were sticky. The s
ound of Theo’s breathing was harsh.
‘Are the receipts there?’
‘Yes.’ He had gone back to the cupboard and was staring into it, some papers in his hand.
Elinor ducked under his arm. There were cups, a great platter, coils of leather she realised with a jolt were whips, and more ivory objects. ‘More male members?’ she queried as Theo shut the door, twisting the picklock to make it fast.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said tersely. ‘Help me wrap this thing up in my coat.’
They were crouched over it, padding the stem with the coat sleeves, their backs to the room, when the attack came. Filthy sackcloth descended in a smothering blanket, she heard Theo swearing and struck out with her nails, ripping against the cloth, then something hit her head, hard, and she went down into even deeper blackness.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Nell! Nell, wake up.’ Someone was calling her, which was most unfair when her head hurt so. Besides, she could not have overslept, it was still dark outside and the candles were lit.
