Page 28

B ridget and Thomas found Professor Tresham in Alastair’s library, surrounded by dusty tomes and stacks of parchment. The room smelled of the faintest trace of pipe smoke. He looked up as they approached and adjusted his spectacles with an absent-minded flick of his fingers.

“Ah, Lady Bridget, Captain. Come join me,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement. “I confess I had planned on a quiet weekend, but with Alastair’s collection here… Well, it’s impossible not to get drawn in.”

Bridget didn’t hesitate, setting the bundle of parchment onto the desk before him. “This belonged to his lordship. We believe it may explain why he was killed.”

Tresham’s hand hovered over the pages for a moment before he carefully unfolded them. The moment his gaze fell upon the first lines, his breath hitched.

“Good heavens,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the text as though he could feel its significance through touch alone.

His enthusiasm grew with each passing second.

“This… this is exactly what Alastair told me about. He suspected he had found something remarkable, but he struggled to translate it fully.”

Bridget and Thomas exchanged a glance.

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.

Tresham leaned back slightly, eyes still locked on the parchment.

“One of the old tales about the Order, one of the more persistent legends, suggests that they, like the Knights Templar, possessed something of great value.” He exhaled, shaking his head.

“But unlike the Templars, their purpose was not preservation. It was control.”

He tapped a passage with a single finger, his excitement evident. “The Order’s influence didn’t fade with time but rather adapted. It hid in plain sight, weaving itself into institutions of power, ensuring its legacy was never truly lost.”

Bridget’s stomach tightened. “And you believe this treasure still exists?”

Tresham hesitated. “‘Treasure’ is the wrong word. It’s not gold or riches. It’s knowledge. Leverage.” He glanced at the notes again, a furrow forming between his brows. “And if Alastair was right, this document hints at something that has remained hidden for centuries.”

The air between them grew heavier, a charged silence settling over the room.

Bridget swallowed hard. “Can you read it?”

Tresham’s brow furrowed as he leaned closer, studying the scrawled words beneath the notations.

“Some of this is Latin… some, Old Scots… and this here…” He paused, adjusting his glasses.

“This is something older. It’s deliberately obscure, meant to be read only by those who already understood its meaning. ”

He muttered to himself, flipping through a reference book at his side.

The candle beside him flickered as he turned the pages, his brow deeply furrowed.

“Alastair mentioned this language to me before. He thought it was related to an older dialect, one used only in specific circles.” He tapped the parchment. “This was not meant for casual eyes.”

His finger halted over a particular phrase. His lips parted. “Ah. Here. This phrase, Coille Dubh .”

Bridget frowned, but before she could react, Thomas went still.

*

Thomas felt the name like a physical blow.

Coille Dubh . He had heard it whispered in the dead of night, traced in coded letters delivered under the cover of darkness.

It was more than a name. It was a shadow that had loomed over Scotland for years.

He forced himself to remain still, to keep his breathing even, though his pulse thundered in his ears.

But it wasn’t just the past he feared. It was her.

Bridget stood beside him, unaware of how deeply this cut. If she knew, if she ever discovered his part in the Clearances, would she see him as a man or only as his father’s son?

He had survived the war. Survived guilt. But the thought of losing her trust? That was a wound he didn’t know how to fight.

“ Coille Dubh has been referenced before in historical accounts,” Tresham went on.

“It’s been whispered in connection with the Order’s more violent dealings.

But its true meaning has never been fully understood.

Some believe it was the name of a place where a great treasure was buried, while others believe it’s an enforcer, a shadowy figure who carried out the Order’s will. ”

His past collided violently with the present.

He knew the name. He had heard it spoken in the dead of night, written in coded orders. He had known what Coille Dubh had done during the Clearances, what men like him had been ordered to do.

But no one, not even Barrington, knew Thomas had been involved.

Thomas stood rigid beside her. Though he had schooled his expression into neutrality, she could sense the effort it took. His silence, his stillness, it wasn’t indifference. It was restraint.

Her gaze dropped to the parchment. She traced the inked letters lightly, the phrase pulling at something buried in her mind. A whisper of recognition teased at the edge of her thoughts.

And then, her breath caught. She looked up sharply. “I know what it means.”

Tresham raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

*

Bridget frowned, tracing the letters again, speaking the phrase aloud under her breath. The words felt familiar, but not because she had seen them written before.

“ Coille Dubh …” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. It wasn’t the phrase itself but rather the way it was spoken. The rhythm of it, the way it lingered in the ear. It was something she had heard in passing, in conversation.

Her breath caught as realization crashed over her.

“ Coille Dubh means Blackwood.”

Silence fell like a hammer.

Bridget’s mind spun, the name taking on a sharper, more ominous meaning. Across from her, Thomas remained silent, his posture stiff, but she barely registered it, too caught up in the revelation itself.

Tresham removed his glasses, his expression thoughtful. “If Blackwood’s family was involved with the Order, we may be dealing with something far more dangerous than we realized.”

The name sat uneasily in her mind, nagging at something just out of reach. A conversation, one she had barely noticed at the time. Then she remembered.

“We all serve something greater than ourselves, Lady Bridget. Some of us simply understand that better than others.”

The memory surfaced unbidden, taking on a more ominous meaning now.

She turned to Thomas, her voice low. “If Blackwood’s family had been entwined with the Order for centuries, then he’s not just another obstacle.” She hesitated, the weight of the realization settling in. “He might be the key to all of this.”

Thomas’s jaw tensed. “Or the greatest threat we’ve faced yet.”

Bridget nodded, the silence stretching between them. It wasn’t ominous, but reflective. The kind of quiet that accompanied understanding.

Tresham, sensing the shift, quietly returned to his notes. No one rushed to speak again.

The fire crackled softly. The parchment lay open between them. At last, the truth had a name; it was Blackwood.