Countdown - Iris Johansen [34]
She turned to Trevor and asked coldly, “You told him it was an option that you’d bring me here?”
“Do you expect me to deny it? It was always an option. But I honestly hoped l wouldn’t have to do it.”
“And I most definitely didn’t want to be here.”
“But here we are.” He opened the door. “So let’s make the best of it.” He added softly, “And it can be a very good best, Jane. We just have to work at it.”
“The only thing I’m going to work at is making sure this Grozak is the man who killed Mike and finding a way to put a noose around his neck.” She looked around the huge hall. It wasn’t as barren as the exterior of the castle hinted. Carpets warmed the stone floors and a muted, threadbare tapestry hung by the curving staircase. There was another tapestry on the opposite wall. In fact, practically all the walls appeared to be covered with tapestries. “And where is this Mario?”
“Here I am. Mario Donato, at your service.” A young, dark-haired man was hurrying down the stairs. He was good-looking, rosy-cheeked, and looked as if he was in his early twenties. He was smiling eagerly. “Bartlett told me you were here.” He stopped on the second step, staring at her. “Sweet Jesus, it’s true. You’re Cira.”
“I’m no such thing. I’m Jane MacGuire.”
“And I’m a fool,” he said apologetically as he came down to stand before her. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just so excited to see you. I’ve been reading the scrolls and looking at Trevor’s statue, and then I came down and saw you standing there and it was as if—” He made a face. “I’m an idiot. You must be sick and tired of people telling you how much you look like that statue.”
“Yes, I am.” But Mario was young and appealing and he was clearly sorry for that blunder. “But I’m probably more sensitive than I should be about it.” She smiled. “And if you’ve been that immersed in Cira, it’s understandable.”
“Thank you.” He turned to Trevor. “I’m down to the last four scrolls. I should have the translations for you within a few days.” His dark eyes glittered with excitement. “One of them is another Cira.”
“Another Cira?” Jane asked. “How many Cira scrolls have you found?”
“Just one until now.” He smiled. “And her scroll is much more interesting than Julius Precebio’s. She was totally amazing, wasn’t she? She was only seventeen when this was written, born a slave, and still managed to learn to write. That’s more than most high-born women accomplished. Smart, very smart.” He turned back to Trevor. “I kept an eye out for the reference you asked about but there’s nothing yet. Maybe in these other scrolls.”
“And maybe not,” Trevor said. “Just let me know if something pops up.” He said to Jane, “Why don’t you go along with Mario and let him show you your room? I have to make a few phone calls. Dinner is at six. We take turns with the cooking and cleanup.”
“Even MacDuff?”
“No, he doesn’t occupy a room here in the castle. I invited him to stay, but he moved into an apartment over the stable when we took over here. Mario or Bartlett will show you to the dining room. When we moved in, it resembled something from King Arthur’s court, but Bartlett’s managed to make it look almost cozy.” He was heading down the hall. “We’ll let you off kitchen duty for the next couple days. After that, you’re on the roster.”
“I may not be here more than a couple days,” she called after him. “I didn’t promise you anything, Trevor.”
He smiled over his shoulder. “But you lit up like a fireworks display when Mario was talking about Cira’s scrolls. I believe I’m safe until you’ve finished your reading.” He opened a paneled door. “And Mario’s not finished with his work yet. He’s very slow and meticulous. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“He’s right, you know,” Mario said gravely as the door closed behind Trevor. “I’m sometimes overcareful, but it’s a great responsibility. I’m working with photocopies of the actual scrolls, but the translation is very important. They’re part of living history.