along the nail marks in the soft lime. Ian shivered as he watched Perry trail the grooves. He knew all too well how large and deadly those paws with their giant nails were.

When the rest of the group had joined them, the earl gave his instructions. “Right, then,” he began, his face grimly set as he eyed the tunnel entrance warily. “I’ll take the boy, Thatcher, Perry, Ciaran, and his sons into the cavern. The rest of you lot spread out along this side of the cliffs and be on the alert. If this was originally too small for the beast to get out, there has to be a larger way in and it’s likely not far away.”

All the men in the hunting party nodded and Ian caught a shared look between Thatcher and Perry. He hadn’t expected that the earl would want him down in the tunnel, and he tried not to gulp when his patriarch gave him a firm pat on the back. “Are you ready, Master Wigby?”

“Yes, my lord,” Ian said, his voice barely above a whisper. He was trying to put on a brave front for the earl, but in the face of that giant gap in the earth and those claw marks, it was hard not to think about the vicious beast so close at hand.

“I’ll go first,” said Thatcher, readying himself at the mouth of the hole. “Perry, after I drop down, stick your gun through the opening, and if anything other than me moves, shoot it.”

Perry nodded and pulled his rifle up to his shoulder. “Ready when you are,” he said.

Thatcher swung his rifle round to his back and clicked on a torch Binsford had given him, then he braced himself and crouched low beside the hole. Inhaling deeply, he glanced at Ian with a grave expression before dropping into the hole. Perry immediately edged to the lip, aiming his rifle into the dark below. No one else moved or said a word while they waited to hear from Thatcher.

Ian held his breath and watched the light from Thatcher’s torch dance and bob while the schoolmaster swung the beam to and fro. “It’s clear!” he finally shouted. “No signs of the beast. The rest of you can come down.”

Perry pulled his rifle out of the opening and, like his brother, swung it round to his back before dropping in. The earl motioned for Ian to go next. “Do you need help down?” the earl asked him, indicating Ian’s bound shoulder and arm.

“I think I can manage, thank you, my lord,” said Ian as he edged his way over to the lip and gauged the jump. He took a small leap and landed easily on the floor of the cavern, then moved quickly to the side and out of the way for the others to come through. The earl, Ciaran, Alfred, and Henry followed the others, although Ciaran needed considerable help getting through the hole.

The cavern was well lit now with all the torches being switched on and Ian noticed the men staring wide-eyed at the spacious opening to the tunnel. “I’ve never been in this particular vein,” said the earl, and Ian turned to look at him, surprised by the admission.

“What’s that, my lord? What do you mean by ‘this particular vein’?” asked Perry.

The earl’s eyes found Ian’s and they shared a knowing smile. “Castle Dover was built atop a maze of tunnels all leading out to caves along the cliff’s face as an escape for the inhabitants should the castle ever be taken by enemies,” the earl explained. “As a child I explored just about all of these tunnels, but I don’t ever remember having been in here.” Ian felt an even greater welling of admiration for the earl and their shared youthful interests.

“Pardon me,” interrupted Thatcher. “But I believe we should all have a look at this.”

Ian turned to where Thatcher was, and noticed that he was standing in front of the big black lettering that Ian and Theo had seen the day before.

“What have you got there?” asked Ciaran, edging closer to the schoolmaster.

“This is written in Greek,” answered Thatcher as his hand traced the outline of the writing. “I’m not an expert, but I believe I can sound it out.” Thatcher’s voice halted abruptly while his beam went back to the beginning of the lettering, then scanned slowly along the wall and stopped. He turned and stared at Ian.

“What?” Ian asked, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Did you write this?”