Rubies in the Roses. Vivian Conroy

time, but he thinks it’s very important to get thousands of likes.’

      Max’s jaw set. His eyes shot fire at Wadencourt. ‘It’s not about likes, but about getting your name out. I don’t want to keep working for cantankerous old bastards for all of my life.’

      And he quit the room, slamming the door shut. The teacups rattled on the tray, and Nero growled.

      Dolly stared at the closed door as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of Max.

      Guinevere felt the same way. Wadencourt was patronizing to everybody and ordered Max about outright, but then he was Max’s boss. Max could show some respect to him and not call him a cantankerous old bastard to his face.

      Guinevere wasn’t even sure if Max believed in the goblet or not.

      ‘He’s quite rude to you,’ Bolingbrooke said to Wadencourt, studying him curiously, ‘for an employee.’

      The other shrugged. ‘Young people have no respect these days. And he is good at what he does.’

      He picked up his tea and blew on it. Then he put the cup down again, chose a sandwich, and took a bite. He returned to the window and studied the view. Nervous energy quivered in his tight posture. He was serious about his quest here. Very serious it seemed.

      Bolingbrooke looked at Oliver and Guinevere, pulling a questioning face. He scratched Rufus’s head with slow movements as if he was barely conscious of what he did.

      Oliver gestured to Guinevere to come with him into the corridor for a moment. He said softly, ‘Wadencourt could have taken any photographer. Why this DeBurgh chap who’s treating him like dirt? I think we need to know just a bit more about him. After all, if Wadencourt can be believed, there’s a priceless goblet at stake here. Why don’t you offer to show DeBurgh around and ask him some innocent questions? Find out what he did before he signed up with Wadencourt. How he even knows him.’

      ‘Why me?’ Guinevere asked.

      ‘Because DeBurgh doesn’t like me and won’t say a thing, while he does seem to like you. But make sure he doesn’t get a chance to get too close to you, huh. Could be the Don Juan type. Off you go.’ Oliver clapped her shoulder and disappeared into the room again.

      ‘Thanks a lot,’ Guinevere muttered. Then she called for Dolly and went downstairs to see where Max had vanished to.

       Chapter Three

      Max stood in the yard, looking around. His expert eye seemed to search for the perfect shot to capture the place’s authentic feel: the braziers with wood in them, bumblebees buzzing around pots with blossoming plants, small orange trees already sporting first fruits.

      The bright sunshine from above illuminated everything in breathtaking intensity, enhancing the colours and even the scents with its warmth.

      Guinevere went up to Max and said, ‘I’m going to walk my dog. Want to join me for a look around the island?’

      ‘Sure. What’s his name?’

      ‘Her name. It’s a she. And it’s Dolly.’

      Max nodded. ‘I can’t have a dog. I’m travelling all the time. Never in one place for longer than a few days.’

      ‘You like that?’

      ‘I need that. The proverbial rolling stone.’ Max snapped two shots of a weathered headstone in the wall, then he turned to her again. ‘Lead on.’

      They walked out of the small door in the tall wooden gate. Those huge doors were normally never opened. In the old days they had only been used when something large like a cart had to pass through or when influential company arrived.

      Overhead a great tit shot away, chattering indignantly. ‘Has a nest in the wall,’ Guinevere said, pointing up at a small hollow between the stones. ‘It’s a miracle he can squeeze himself through there. Judging by the voices of the baby birds he actually has six to eight babies in there. They should be old enough to leave the nest any day now.’

      Max followed the small bird with his camera and when it sat down on a branch, he zoomed in and took a few shots. The camera’s clicks rang out in the silence.

      Guinevere said, ‘If you shoot deer or other wildlife, don’t they get spooked by the sounds of the camera?’

      ‘There are beeps and stuff that go with the focus and the zoom but you can turn those off. I did so right after I bought my camera. The only thing you can’t turn off is the click when a photo is taken. It’s a mechanical sound having to do with parts inside the camera moving. It does disturb animals that are very sensitive to sound, like deer, but birds don’t mind usually.’

      Guinevere nodded and looked around her, breathed deep and then said, semi concerned, ‘It would be a disaster if people started to dig around here. Do you think there’s a real chance of that?’

      ‘No, of course not.’ Max sounded sure. ‘This chap Vex, who writes up those stories in the gardening magazine, even calls his own contributions: “Seeds of folklore”. He explains for instance where plants’ nicknames come from or why some sites have become popular for their specific natural wonders. I don’t think there’s a single soul who will rush out here to find this so-called goblet of Rose and Stars.’

      ‘I wonder if the name shouldn’t be goblet of roses and stars. You know, both nouns plural?’

      Max shook his head. ‘Don’t let Wadencourt hear you say that. He could give an hour-long lecture about the name. Rose is not the same as stars.’

      ‘But …’ Guinevere frowned. ‘I thought the name referred back to the precious stones used on the goblet? Rubies and diamonds, roses and stars.’

      ‘Very good. That’s the superficial explanation. But our super intelligent Wadencourt is the first living being who was able to discover that rose is singular and therefore doesn’t refer to the rubies but to a name: Rose. He believes that the name of the lady in the tale is wrong, that she wasn’t called Anne, but Rose. That’s also how he deduced that the keep referred to is Cornisea Castle. Of course he refused to give me any details, but I guess that there is a Lady Rose in this castle’s past and a siege because of her.’

      Max looked at Guinevere expectantly as if waiting for her to confirm this.

      ‘I haven’t come across her yet, but then I’ve only been here for a few weeks. And Bolingbrooke owns a ton of books.’ Guinevere made a mental note to check with Oliver and Bolingbrooke, continuing to Max, ‘But if Wadencourt is the only one who realized the significance of Rose, instead of roses, in the goblet’s name, how did this garden historian Vex figure it out? In his article he also claims Cornisea Castle is the place where the goblet is hidden, right?’

      ‘Right. And that is Wadencourt’s big frustration. He was the first but he wasn’t the only one. This garden historian also realized it and according to his article Vex even has some proof to support it. Now before that hits the world, Wadencourt wants to find the goblet. Here.’ Max gestured around him.

      Guinevere still didn’t understand it all. ‘And Wadencourt thinks he can actually do that before the article goes out? I thought publication was imminent?’

      Max shrugged. ‘He claims that he knows exactly where to look. I think he’s lying. He has never turned up a single thing before, you know.’

      Guinevere studied the tight, suntanned face. ‘Then why did you get in touch with him in the first place? If he never turned up a great find, he’s not an attractive prospect to work with, I’d say. Did you do it just to get this free Cornish trip?’

      ‘Let’s say I have my reasons for wanting to work with Wadencourt right now.’ Max exhaled. ‘Sometimes you have to do something unpleasant for the sake of your career.’

      This was all a little too cryptic