As the second carriage made its way down the road from the inn, Alistair gazed unseeingly out the window, with a heavy frowm on his face. Rosemary kept glancing at the frown and impulsively started to reach out a hand to touch him in sympathy. She stopped her hand in midair and pretended that she was lifting it to adjust her bonnet as he turned his troubled gaze to her. She smiled at him tentatively and said, "Alistair, it will be all right. Our friends have gone ahead and Alexander and Primat will be fine. Primat and I have daggers too, so we can protect ourselves."

Alastair tried to hide a shudder at the thought of the two women, a pair of kittens in the dangerous jungle where the Guardians lurked. He suppressed a small sigh, and then said abruptly, "I must tell someone about this. It is eating at me and has me very worried and confused. I have always considered him my best friend, but now, I don't know anymore."

"Know what?" Rosemary stared at Alistair with a puzzled look.

"We went to school together and we shared almost our whole lives together until I went into the Army. And now this! I keep thinking and thinking about it and cannot believe that Kenneth would try to kill me, but he did."

Aghast, Rosemary cried, "Are you sure he tried to kill you?"

"Why was he hiding in that croft and why did he attack me?"

Suddenly, a thought struck Rosemary. She turned to Alistair and said, "If he really tried to kill you, we could be in more danger. We left Marianna back there with him. She knows all our plans and it will tumble out of her mouth like water down a mountainside. If he meant you harm, he could come after us and ruin the planned ambush at the Abbey."

Alistair started at her words, and then, with clenched teeth, snarled, "This time there are a great number of us, armed and prepared. I will keep watch at our backs. In fact, I almost hope he does try to interfere... he will have to answer all my questions."

The woman standing in the middle of the room surveyed it with a look of satisfaction as she saw the precious silver and porcelains on display surrounding her. She was small, beautifully gowned, and had a lovely face, but it had a hard, cold look as if she was calculating the value of those treasures down to the last pence. She turned to the door as a maid entered and announced, "Mr. Warburton, ma'am!"

Warburton pushed the maid aside and she quickly sidled out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her. She knew instinctively that she would be better off far away from the salon. Mr. Warburton looked like a gentleman who would not hesitate to crush her like a fly if he caught her eavesdropping.

"So, my dear, you sent for me?" he purred at the woman standing frozen in the center of the room.

"Yes... yes, I did! Daventry hasn't been here in weeks and no one has let me know anything. What am I supposed to do now?" She extended her small, beautifully kept hand to him and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it, causing her to moan with pain.

"Mrs. Andrews, or rather I should say, Mrs. Catherine Perkins Cave, you are going to learn a very hard lesson right now. You don't ever, ever send for me or dare to ask questions. You only do what you are told to do when you are told to do it!" He twisted her wrist a bit more, and as she moaned and turned white, he further hissed in a harsh tone, "I will let you know what you are to do when the time is right. Now, I hope you understand that clearly."

She managed to nod her assent through the pain and he abruptly dropped her wrist and started towards the door, and, almost as an afterthought, asked, "Have you heard from your husband recently?"

Catherine stared at him and replied bitterly, "No. He cares not where I am or what I do, nor do I care about his doings. As long as he keeps me supplied with money, I don't even think about him. I suppose he is out chivvying the tenants on his estate and meeting with his cronies."

"You had better hope that that is all he is doing. If what I suspect might be happening is true, you will have to return and resume your rightful role as loving wife and confidante."

She blanched and cried out, "Never!"

Mr. Warburton grabbed her wrist again and she backed away fearfully at the look of rage on his face. Hurriedly she said, "All right. If you say I must, I will!"

The smile on Warburton's face was one of pure evil and she just stared at him as he said in a silky but menacing tone, "That's better, my dear! You learn your lessons quickly." He strode out of the room, leaving Catherine rooted to the expensive Kirman rug, horror stricken and deathly afraid.

Dusk was falling and the abbey ruins, a strangely magnificent and majestic tumble of stones with ivy and other vegetation growing amidst them, appeared almost mystical to the four men who had arrived earlier. It was still and here and there the rustle of some small creature making its way to its hidey hole could be heard.

Jacob, a true soldier, had reconnoitered the area thoroughly upon arrival and the four were in good positions for the planned ambush. He was standing at the entrance (or at least what they believed was the entrance) of the abbey, alert to every sound and movement.

August had whipped out a large silk handkerchief and had placed it on a stone, then seated himself very gingerly on it, sighing at the thought of the ruination of another pair of breeches as he did so. One hand delved into the pocket of his magnificently tailored jacket and brought out a linen-wrapped package which proved to contain bread and cheese.

"August, mon cher, do you never fail to find food or stop eating?" Roly enquired as he watched the Mandarin's performance with a grin on his battered face.

"Roly, a truly civilized man such as I must eat to survive the vicissitudes of life and to forget the unpleasantnesses that might lie ahead! Naturally, I try to be prepared!'

Just then, all four men stiffened as the sound of an approaching carriage and horses could be heard.

August dropped his bread and cheese into the dust and crouched behind the handkerchief covered stone.

Roly sprang behind the Abbey's North Transept or what remained of it - in essence, half the arch of the barrel vaulting. Yet it served good purpose in hiding Roly. The view from the road was impeded by the arch and the various pieces of fallen masonry that decorated the surrounding yard.

Similarly, Jacob had withdrawn from the entrance further into the darkened recesses so that the surrounding graves grew to Druid Stone height. He cursed himself for having sent Gareth Cave out to reconnoiter the area. If the mice had arrived at the trap early, they would be one man short of a good fight.

All three men who had remained so tense and uncertain breathed unanimous sighs of relief upon the hesitant calling of Alistair's voice, "Hullo? Fairleigh? Falcon? Holt? I am here but have not been followed."

Roly hissed out softly in response, "Erskyn! Are you sure?"

At the affirmitive response, Roly moved to enter the yard only to be impeded by his colichemarde's attraction to the stonework. Wrenching it free with a load scrape, he joined the others in urging the couple into the darkened bowels of the Abbey.

In the safe enclosure, Alistair updated the three men on what had happened in the last day.

Falcon, cutting through the verbiage, queried, "How can you be sure that you were not followed?"

Erskyn made a grimace of disgust, "Because the path we ventured was straight and clear and we espied no one."

"Best to take precautions nonetheless," interjected Holt authoritatively. "Mrs. Carlyle, would you do me the honor of withdrawing to the Lady Chapel? It's relatively still intact and safe. In addition, any attackers must get through us to arrive at the Chapel."

Fairleigh snorted, "In effect, they must get through me."

Falcon and Holt shot similar nasty glances at Fairleigh. Rosemary, however, lovely in her gown, was the one to respond, "I think perhaps that I would be of best use by your side. Although not as proficient with the sword as my cousin is, I nevertheless can provide good distraction. In point of fact, India was not exactly a safe place to spend my youth. The East India Company provided little protection for families in the Bengal area. After all, British rule is so tenuous there as to be practically non-existant. Even the support of the local Nawab was insignificant so all of us had to learn certain tricks to protect ourselves. Especially if we wanted any sort of independent life."

Alistair smiled admiringly at her, "And of course, you did."

Rosemary drew her breath, "I haven't used them in many years. But Primat taught me how to employ misdirection in clever ways."

Falcon's eyes sharpened, "Misdirection... within the Abbey itself?"

Rosemary smiled, "I think the idea should be to lure them inside, yes?"

"Thus, bringing them into the dark from the light," Holt continued.

"Thereby giving us a few seconds advantage as their eyes adjust," finished Fairleigh.

Alistair shook his head, "How familiar have you three become with the Abbey?"

"Well enough, mon cher, to know where to lure them."

As Rosemary outlined her idea and planned out the best areas for the actual ambush, a few horsemen arrived at the lane to the Abbey.

Catherine Perkins Cave paced back and forth across the Kirman rug. Warburton had terrified her, but this was not a new emotion. She had been terrified most of her life. Terrified of poverty, terrified of social ostracisim and lately, terrified of exposure.

She had made but one real mistake in life, and now she had made a deal with the devil to keep it hidden.

Although not terribly fond of her husband, she valued the security he gave her. Although angry that he preferred his friend's company to her, she realized that her situation was tenfold better than it could be. And her actions she regretted almost instantly. Her betrayal of Gareth Cave, her lies to him, these bothered her most because she knew they would be exposed and her reputation and security forfeit.

Most of all, she was terrified of the man they called the General. She had never met him, but he know held her fate in his hands. If she disobeyed him, he would reveal that this marriage to Gareth Cave was a sham... and she would be ruined.

Thus she would obey. She would do anything to keep this false marriage alive. She had already deceived Gareth Cave once, unknowingly perhaps, she could repeat the deception. She would resume her position as his wife by his side. She just had to find him.

Warburton received the missive at ten past the hour. Without waiting for his horse to be saddled, he strode directly to the stables. The General had summoned him. There was to be a final attempt to capture those who dared to challenge the Guardians. His instructions were clear. He was to rendezvous with Cecily Tilbury, David Daventry, and two others of the Guardians before the General arrived with his. That the General was to involve himself personally and engage in an all-out offensive was a sign that the situation was dire indeed.

He arrived at the rendezvous point in less than twenty minutes and all was settled directly. According to the General, a scout had been sent ahead to trail the victims and was to report immediately on their final position.

Warburton disliked Daventry intensely and found Cecily unnerving. He was, however, a consummate professional and deemed it necessary to swallow the bile that arose on the sight of them. The other two men were notorious as traitors to England and Scotland, respectively, and also as the cleverest men in Britain. Perhaps bested only by the General himself.

Warburton grunted on receiving his instructions. This plan would work. Those insipid people who dared challenge the Guardians would soon feel the consequences of their stupidity.

Alexander slouched in the corner of the carriage, one hand nursing his cheek.

The foreign witch who had slapped him was calmly continuing her sewing. Occasionally she would peer up at him through the incongrous bonnet and her smile would reappear. He noticed she had dimples. His scowl deepened.

Primat restrained an urge to giggle. The desire to do so surprised her, for she had not laughed in a long time. She wondered if she should be grateful to the peacock beside her for creating such a desire. He was young, several years younger than she, but she knew that he found her attractive nonetheless. He was different than the few other Western men she had met. He was pompous, yet humorous. He was pretty but amiable. He was a man who loved all women, regardless of race, creed or age. She supposed this was a good thing, but she wondered how he really thought of her. As a woman? As a woman somewhat less because she was Indian? In her home near Madurai, she had been considered a worthy match; but the moment she had left her home to serve the foreign people she had been considered traitor to her people. All she had desired, however, was travel and adventure. That was many years ago now. She had been just ten years when she arrived at the new home of Sahib Tillbury. Old enough to marry in her world, too young to realize that she was entering into a new world at the expense of her own. She sighed and the urge to laugh had disappeared. She was content with her life. She loved Rosemary Carlyle as a younger sister and knew that she was fortunate that her mistress treated her with much respect, more than was usual. She also knew that she was attractive to men and that in comparison with many of the Western women, she looked young. But she felt old. Older than her years, older than the world. Except when the peacock looked at her. Then she had an urge to laugh.

The carriage turned a corner. They had made their tour and they were now but two hours away from the Abbey.

Gareth Cave had made but two circuits of the area when Alistair and Rosemary had arrived. Upon seeing that the new arrivals were friendly, he had continued to make a slow circuit of the area to make sure that all was secure before moving to join the team of intrepid souls lodged within the Abbey.

A dark shadow separated itself from a copse of trees and began to slither down the sylven avenue. Gareth, no slouch on the awareness front, had noted it. He began to subtley alter his movements, wending his way around the trees. Soon he grew tired of the chase, and turned to face his shadow.

Holt, who had been keeping one eye on the path, was the first to notice Gareth returning. Alerting the others they soon discovered that Cave was not alone.

Fairleigh, dashing out to help, asked in a tone of annoyance as they closeted the bundle in the dark recesses of the Abbey, "What have you done? Brought in boarders?"

Gareth sneered in response, "Boarders for espionage perhaps. Nay, I have just prevented a spy from returning to his masters with knowledge of our plan."

The group peered closer at the bundle which stirred as the cloth fell away from the features.

There was a gasp as the features of the captive was revealed.

Fairleigh and Alistair gritted out in unison, "Hessell!"

As Rosemary paced nervously around the small enclosed space, she prayed softly, "Dear God, please let us be successful. Please keep us all safe."

Despite her fear, Rosemary admitted to herself that she felt a little thrill of excitement. She had never been part of such a scheme as this. As long as everything went according to plan, they should best the villains, and then... well, Rosemary smiled at her thoughts, then perhaps she and Alistair would discuss the future, a future together.

Suddenly, Rosemary heard a very soft whistle. As this was the sign from the lookout that their "prey" were in view, Rosemary knew it was time for her to briefly show herself at the entrance to the Abbey. The plan was really very simple, she thought. She would draw as many of their foe as possible into the Abbey, and into the Lady Chapel, by a labyrinthine route. Along the route, Captain Holt, Mr. Fairleigh, and Mr. Falcon held posts and would deal with the miscreants one-by-one. It was hoped that not all the enemy would enter at once to make this possible. She would use misdirection to aid in the element of surprise, which, plus the temporary difficulty in seeing properly due to the sudden reduction in light, should ensure their success. Anyone who was able to reach the Lady Chapel would be met by Alistair. Lightly touching her dagger in the pocket of her travelling gown, Rosemary added mentally, "and by me." Now if I can be sure that I remember how to use misdirection all will be well, she thought, as she walked toward the entrance of the Abbey.

'How could I have allowed her get so involved in this?' thought Alistair. 'I must be mad. If she were to come to any harm, I would never forgive myself. I should stop this misbegotten plan before she is hurt.' As Alistair moved forward, he heard the low whistle warning of the arrival of horsemen.

"Damn, damn, damn, I'm too late," he thought. He heard a soft rustle and turned to see Rosemary walking toward him and the entrance. As he put out his hand, as if to stop her, she shook her head, pressed her fingers to her lips, then, briefly to his own, and then carried on to the front of the Abbey.

Alistair could feel the warmth of her lips on his as if they and not her fingers had touched his mouth. Pray God he would have the opportunity to experience a true kiss from her.

"My, but the plan is succeeding!" thought Rosemary as she darted back into the darkness of the Abbey. Two men were entering the Abbey after espying Rosemary's brief appearance. "Now to lure them in different directions at the same time. Oh, twill be difficult! Help me, Primat, to recall your lessons."

With those thoughts, Rosemary consciously relaxed her body, and waited for the perfect moment to take action. When the men were quite close, she looked sharply in one direction and gasped aloud. The two men followed her gaze, and while their attention was elsewhere, Rosemary darted away in the direction she wanted one of the men to follow, and tossed some pebbles in another. The attention of the two men swung between the three different points, then the taller one moved after her, and the other went in the direction of the sound made by the pebbles. "Ah, yes," thought Rosemary, as she darted ahead. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Fairleigh, who had the audacity to wink at her. Rosemary continued to move quickly ahead, drawing her follower deeper into the Abbey. She knew that Mr. Fairleigh would leave this man for Captain Holt, who should be around the corner. Mr. Fairleigh would wait for the next person to enter the Abbey, possibly looking for the first two, who would fail to return outside.

Rosemary jumped out of the way just as Captain Holt appeared with his sword drawn. She heard a clash of swords, and knew that Mr. Falcon was engaged in battle with the man who had followed the sound of the pebbles.

Rosemary backed up into another passage as the man who had followed her drew his sword, and lunged at Captain Holt, who neatly responded with an attack au fer. Not being very knowledgable about swordplay, Rosemary could still see that Captain Holt was the smoother, more confident swordsman, and felt some of her anxiety about this part of the plan fade.

It had been agreed that the villains should be taken alive, if possible. This had been at the insistance of Captain Holt, who had argued with the others as to the value of being able to question any prisoners. The others had agreed, but very grudgingly.

Hearing a shout, Rosemary looked in the direction from which she had come, and could see Mr. Fairleigh circling another man, both with their swords drawn. The plan was moving apace, and Rosemary began to make her way to the Lady Chapel.

"Where can they be?" raged Cecily, standing in the shadow of some trees outside the Abbey. "We are surrounded by incompetents and bungling fools," she continued, "all they needs must do is wrest the emerald from my cousin and that infatuated doctor. That should not require too much time. And where is the General? He was to meet up with us. If that emerald comes into my keeping without his aid, he shall not see it."

"Cecily, what can you mean? You would cross the General?" Daventry asked in amazement.

"We do not need the General, David. More and more I begin to believe we would do well without him."

"Shush, Cecily," muttered Daventry, as he looked furtively about them to be certain Cecily had not been overheard. "Do not speak of such things."

"Oh, you poltroon! Well, Warburton then. We do not need his aid. He is of no use to us any longer and should be dealt with," replied Cecily, thinking that Lord Daventry, too, was fast becoming expendable.

"Very well, Cecily. We shall remove Warburton. Perhaps I should go into the Abbey and make it look as if the doctor killed him."

"Yes, David, an excellent notion. I shall await you here, and mayhap the General will arrive, and I will delay him until your deed is done." Cecily smiled at Daventry, and urged him forward.

Rosemary had been held spellbound, watching the thrust and parry between August Falcon and his opponent. She had never seen such speed or deftness, and such grace of movement, particularly of Mr. Falcon. It reminded her of a dance with very intricate steps. Instinctively she knew that she was watching a master. As she watched, Falcon made a move which involved putting a hand on the ground and lunging quickly toward the other man.

"That would be a passata-solo, Mrs. Carlyle," whispered a voice in her ear, as a hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm was wrapped around her body, pulling her back against a hard body and inprisoning her arms. It was that brute who had held her and Alistair, and Rosemary experienced a quick rush of nauseating terror.

"Well, my dear, I want the emerald that Erskyn must have. I passed the dolt outside the Lady Chapel, muttering to himself and smiling like a mooncalf. Let us pay him a visit. I trust he holds you in high enough esteem to trade the emerald for your life." And Rafe Green began to drag Rosemary backward, toward the Lady Chapel.

"At last," muttered Roly, as he buried a large part of his colichemerde in his opponent's left shoulder. Roly pulled the blade out, and watched dispassionately as the man collapsed to the floor. Roly felt like joining him, he was so fatigued. And the bandages on his own injury were starting to feel uncomfortably tight. But he knew if the man were to live, he required some attention, if only some makeshift bandaging. Roly picked up the coat he had removed earlier, tore off some pieces, and, pulling open the man's shirt, pressed them to the bleeding wound. Realizing that he himself was much more tired than he had first thought, Roly decided to see if either Jacob or Falcon had dispatched their opponents and could help him in staunching the bleeding.

"I will return with assistance," he murmured to the unconscious man, as he slowly got to his feet and stumbled in the direction of the Lady Chapel.

Five minutes later...

"Do you not know a fatal wound, Fairleigh?" inquired Falcon. "You hit this man in the heart."

Roly slowly opened his eyes and stared at Falcon from where he stood, leaning against a wall. "Mais Non, you must be mistaken Falcon. I know I caught him in the left shoulder"

"Mayhap you call it the shoulder, Fairleigh, I prefer to call it the chest!"

Roly slowly walked over to Falcon, and looked down at the body, to see a wound that extended from the shoulder down to the level of the heart.

"I swear to you Falcon, this man was alive when I left, and his wound was not that large. Someone must have finished the job for us."

After staring at Roly for a time, Falcon slowly nodded his head. "But who?"

"You are certain Warburton is dead?"

"'Struth, Cecily, I told you. I stuck him through the heart myself, while Fairleigh went to obtain help. They will all assume Fairleigh killed him."

"Oh David! Thank you. When we get the emerald, we must have a private celebration, just you and me." Cecily gave David a very sultry smile, the one she practiced daily to ensure that it conveyed the proper message and created no wrinkles.

"But.. but... the General."

"Oh, pooh, the General. I do not believe he is even here. It is up to us to get the emerald now."