9
The rising gusts of wind swirling around them in the kirkyard made the diminutive priest look frail against the power of the nature. The small plot of ground that Father William had been turning with the sharp stick appeared black against the pale gray of the south wing.
“The Earl of Athol was here at Ironcross the night of the fire.”
Gavin stared in surprise.
“How was it that the earl escaped the blaze while the rest perished?”
“He wasn’t staying in the south wing with the rest of them. Before the fire, guests were usually lodged in the Old Keep, even those of noble blood. Athol was given the chambers you now occupy, m’lord.”
Gavin’s mind instantly flooded with an image of the hidden passage that he knew linked that bedchamber with the south wing. When he looked back into the prie
