The bull _passant gules_ of the Borgias was certainly a significant
sign, deep there in the bowels of the earth, so far from the scene of
the Borgias' forgotten triumphs.
My two companions were beside me in an instant, and both agreed that the
bull placed there was a signal to the person who gained the secret of
The Closed Book--an invitation to search at that spot.
All three of us closely examined the rough stones with which the low
tunnel was arched; but none of them showed signs of having been
disturbed. The passage had, without doubt, been constructed by the
Black Douglas as a secret means of ingress and egress to his stronghold,
and most probably all trace of it had been lost in the day of Godfrey
Lovel. He and his friend Malcolm had perhaps rediscovered it, and old
Godfrey had there ingeniously hidden the precious casket which he had
brought from Italy, and which had for years previously been concealed in
the fish pond at Croyland, or Crowland, as it is now spelt.
The position in which the bull had been drawn showed that it was placed
there to attract the eye of the person possessing the secret. To any
other it would convey nothing. Yet, although we searched hither and
thither, high and low, we discovered no cavity nor any place where the
casket was likely to be concealed.
Presently, after full half an hour's search, Fred discovered upon the
flat surface of a stone some little distance further up the tunnel the
numeral "15" marked in the same paint, and evidently put there by the
same hand as that which had drawn the bull--only with one of those queer
sixteenth century fives like a capital N turned the wrong way about.
"Can this mean that the place is fifteen paces off?" I queried.
"Or it may be fifteen stones away," suggested Sammy, starting at once to
count them. "Why, look!" he cried a few moments later; "here's a stone
that's been removed at some time or other." It was a block about two
feet long, and when I rushed forward and touched it, it moved beneath my
hand.
Without a second's hesitation I grasped it, and with all my might tugged
it out of me wall, allowing it to fall to the ground with a heavy thud,
Sammy being compelled to step aside quickly.
Then, plunging my hand deep into the cavity behind, I felt something and
pulled it out, with a loud cry of joy, which was echoed by my two
companions.
It was the long lost casket!
About a foot and a half long, ten inches in height, and six broad, it
was covered with stout old untanned leather, the lid being curved and
studded with nails. The lock was an antique, and therefore a
complicated one, no doubt; but having no key, we at once set to work to
force it open with the short crowbar which I had carried down there. So
stoutly made was that ancient box that had seen so many vicissitudes and
hid in the mud of the abbey fish pond at Crowland for many years, that
for some time I could not manage to force it open; but after several
trials, in the dim, uncertain light, I at length succeeded in wrenching
up the lid, and there found within several old jewel cases which, on
being opened, were found to contain those wonderful emeralds which were
the most valued treasures of the Borgias.
We handled them gingerly, at my suggestion, not knowing whether those
faded, velvet-lined old cases might not be envenomed with poison of the
Borgias, like the vellum leaves of The Closed Book.
The jewels we examined were, however, magnificent in their antique gold
settings. Three collars of wonderful green gems, each emerald the size
of one's thumb nail, and each set separately to form drops, were the
first ornaments we drew forth--emerald collars of which we knew the
world had never seen the equal. Several bracelets, pairs of earrings,
and pendants were also among the collection; one emerald, unset, and
evidently the greatest treasure, being almost the size of a pigeon's
egg--a truly marvellous set of gems, the like of which none of us had
ever before set eyes upon.
There were eight small cases in all, seven of them as full of jewels as
they could hold, while the eighth contained that which, in the day of
Lucrezia Borgia, was more powerful and potent than the mere possession
of wealth--a small sealed bottle of rock crystal and a larger phial of
greenish Venetian glass, the latter containing a thick dark-brown fluid.
This latter discovery interested my companions, who were much puzzled by
it. But I knew the truth, and told them so. That tiny crystal bottle
contained the actual secret venom of the Borgias, given by Lucrezia to
old Godfrey, and the dark brown fluid was the antidote.
The secret poison of the Borgias was no longer a legend. We had it
actually in our possession!
I put my hand again into the cavity, while Sammy raised a lamp to peer
within. But there was nothing else.
With our precious find stowed in our pockets we at last moved up the
incline, in order to explore the full extent of the subterranean
passage. The casket itself interested me; and, handing my lantern to
one of the others, I carried the heavy old box, which through those
centuries had contained treasure worth a king's ransom. Then, delighted
with our success, we pushed forward and upward, finding the air fresher
nearly every foot we progressed, until at last, nearly three-quarters of
a mile from the point we had descended, the tunnel went suddenly
upwards, and we found farther progress barred by a huge oaken door
strengthened by a kind of network of iron battens securely bolted on to
it.
We tried it, but it would not budge. It was very strongly secured on
the other side, and all our efforts to open it proved futile.
Having battered upon it and used our crowbar to little effect, we heard
a frightened and muffled voice on the other side demanding who and what
we were.
"Let us out, old chap?" I shouted. "Can't you open the door? Who are
you?"
"My name's John Kirk," was the man's hoarse answer. "Where are you, and
who are you?"
"There are three of us. We've been along an underground passage, and
this is the end of it. Where are we?"
"This is the old dairy in Threave Mains. Wait a bit, and I'll get the
master."
"Threave Mains?" cried Fred. "Then we've passed right under the Dee
into Balmaghie! You can see the Mains from the castle--an old white
house about three-quarters of a mile away. I hope the master, whoever
he is, will let us out of this very soon."
We did not have to wait long; but the fact was that some old panelling
in the ancient part of the building, now used as a dairy, had first to
be taken down, and then the door was revealed and opened, letting us out
once again to the light of day.
Truth to tell, we were nothing loath to breathe the fresh air once more;
and the dirty and disreputable figures we cut as we emerged, I think,
filled the good farmer with some suspicion. We told him of our
explorations underground, not mentioning the treasure, of course,
whereupon the old man said, in his broad Galloway dialect:
"I've heard talk of a passage under the river to the castle, but I
thought it was only a fable. I had no idea it ended in this wall."
"Well," said Sammy, "you go down and have a smell round yourself.
You'll find it interesting. You won't want a boat in the future to get
over to the island."
Whereat we all laughed, and after examining the old oak panelling, and
coming to the conclusion that the dairy was originally the most ancient
part of the house, we gave the farmer a trifle to repay him for the
removal of the woodwork, and departed, carrying the jewels, in their
cases, secreted in our pockets, and leaving the unfortunate Selby still
a prisoner on the island, with Walter guarding him. One thing was at
least reassuring--namely, that the casket, having been discovered
beneath the bed of the river, could be claimed by neither of the owners
of the property on either side.
In the lightest of spirits we joined the high road at the Black Bride
Burn, and hurried along for a mile to the Bridge of Dee, where we knew
we could obtain a boat to fetch Walter off the island. This was done,
and while Fred and Sammy rowed back upstream, I idled on the wayside
railway station close to the river, the whole of the jewels being
transferred to my care, while the old casket had been wrapped in a
newspaper we had picked up by the roadside.
The farmer at Threave Mains had looked askance at the old box until, in
order to satisfy him, I showed that it was empty. He had no use for
empty boxes, he said, laughing; but he was not aware of its precious
contents then in our pockets.
I had a long wait at the railway station; but about six o'clock my
companions returned, bringing Walter with them. The latter had feared,
as we did not return, that some accident had happened to us, and had
been amazed to find Sammy and Fred, afloat, hailing him.
Selby was still at the place where we had secured him, bound hand and
foot, shouting and cursing until he was hoarse, and uttering all kinds
of threats against us. But we had secured the historic jewels of the
notorious Lucrezia, and now intended to make the best of our way to
Crailloch. With that intention, therefore, we tidied ourselves as well
as we could, and walked on to Dildawn, the fine estate of our host's
good friend, Charlie Phillips, and there borrowed a conveyance to take
us home, a distance of about fourteen miles as the crow flies.
So disreputable our appearance, so mysterious our movements, not to
mention the absence of guns or game bags, that our friend's curiosity
was aroused; but we merely explained that we had been out for a day's
excursion and got stranded, the railway being of no use to us. He gave
us some whisky, smiled knowingly, but was much puzzled.
"My opinion is that you fellows have been up to some trick or other that
you oughtn't to have been," was his remark as we drove away.
"All right, old chap," shouted Fred; "we'll tell you all about it some
day." And the smart pair of bays swung away down the drive.
We agreed to say nothing to anyone, not even to the rest of the party at
Crailloch. At present, in view of our forthcoming investigations at
Crowland, it was not judicious to make any statement. We had
forestalled our enemies at Threave, and for the present that was
sufficient.
Our tardy and unexpected return gave rise to a good deal of comment, as
may be imagined. The ladies of the party were soon around Sammy
imploring him to tell them the reason of our mysterious movements, and
many questions were put to Fred by the men. But to all we were dumb.
We had been visiting friends was all we explained.
"Friends!" exclaimed Jack Handsworth, sucking at his cigar. "Been down
a drain somewhere, by the look of your clothes," a remark that was
greeted with considerable laughter.
That night, after the others had retired, the four of us held a secret
sitting in Fred's study, where we examined our find, and discovered it
to be more remarkable and important than we had believed it to be. The
emerald collars were magnificent; but, besides what I have already
enumerated, there was a magnificent Byzantine cross of diamonds,
containing in the back the relic of St Peter, which is known to have
been the property of Lucrezia's father, the Borgia Pope. In the Vatican
archives are several mentions of it; but on the death of Alexander VI it
unaccountably disappeared, having been given, no doubt, to his
golden-haired daughter. There was a heavy gold bracelet, too, in the
form of a serpent, and several fine rings. One, in gold, was engraved
with the sacred tau, believed in the Borgia era to guard the wearer
against epilepsy; another, of agate, carved with an image of St John
the Divine, which was worn in those days as a protection from venom; and
in a third was set a piece of toadstone or bufonite--the fossil palatal
tooth of the ray fish _Pycnodus_--the most potent periapt against black
magic.
The most interesting of all, however, was a beautiful ring of gold
_niello_, of the fourteenth century, with a hollow bezel or sharp point
pierced by two tiny holes, which had undoubtedly been used to contain
poison. It was quite easy to see that this ring, if charged with the
deadly liquid, could be used with fatal effect in a hand-grasp with an
enemy--a curio of world-wide interest, the actual poison-ring of that
veneficious bacchante Lucrezia Borgia, which had caused the death of so
many unsuspecting and innocent persons, from cavaliers in Ferrara to
cardinals in Rome.
I turned it over in my hand and felt the sharpness of that fine
needle-point. Surely the controversy regarding the venom of the Borgias
would now be set at rest forever.
The crystal perfume bottle, with its few drops of that deadly cantarella
poison, I held to the light and examined carefully, as well as the
antidote--both presents given to Godfrey by Lucrezia herself, with
instructions how to use them.
I was in the act of replacing both bottles in the old jewel case, with
its faded lining of purple velvet, when I noticed the top of the lining
was loose, and on touching it it fell away and a small folded piece of
damp-stained parchment came into my hand.
There was faded writing upon it in Godfrey's erratic script, and the
words I deciphered caused my heart to leap.