Labyrinth (33 page)

Her father’s church also.

The
Bons Homes
valued inner faith above outward display. They needed no consecrated buildings, no superstitious rituals, no humiliating obeisance designed to keep ordinary men apart from God. They did not worship images nor prostrate themselves before idols or instruments of torture. For the
Bons Chretiens,
the power of God lay in the word. They needed only books and prayers, words spoken and read aloud. Salvation was nothing to do with the alms or relics or Sabbath prayers spoken in a language only the priests understood.

In their eyes, all were equal in the Grace of the Holy Father—Jew or-Saracen, man and woman, the beast of the fields and the birds of the air. There would be no hell, no final day of judgment, because through God’s grace all would be saved, although many would be destined to live life many times over before they regained God’s kingdom.

Although Alais had not actually attended a worship, because of Esclarmonde she was familiar with the words of their prayers and rituals. What mattered was that in these darkening times, the
Bons Chretiens
were good men, tolerant men, men of peace who celebrated a God of Light rather than cowering under the wrath of the Catholics’ cruel God.

At last, Alais heard the words of the
Benedictus.
This was her moment to slip away. She bowed her head. Slowly, her hands clasped, careful not to attract attention, Alais edged back toward the door.

A few moments later, and she was free.

CHAPTER 35

Esclarmonde’s house lay in the shadow of the Tour du Balthazar.

Alais hesitated a moment before tapping on the shutter, watching her friend moving about inside through the large window overlooking the street. She was wearing a plain green dress and her hair, streaked with grey, was tied back.

I know I am right.

Alais felt a surge of affection. She was certain her suspicions would prove true. Esclarmonde glanced up. Straight away, she raised her arm and waved, a smile lighting her face.

“Alais. You are most welcome. We have missed you, Sajhe and I.”

The familiar smell of herbs and spices hit Alais the moment she stepped under the lintel into the single downstairs room. A pan of water was boiling over the small fire in the centre of the room. A table, a bench and two chairs were set against the wall.

A heavy curtain separated the front from the back of the room. It was in here that Esclarmonde gave consultations. Since she had no visitors, the curtain was pinned back and rows of earthenware containers stood in lines on long shelves. Bunches of herbs and sprigs of dried flowers hung from the ceiling. On the table, there was a lantern and a pestle and mortar, the twin of the one Alais had. It had been a wedding gift from Esclarmonde.

A ladder led up to a small platform above the consulting area where Esclarmonde and Sajhe slept. He was up there and gave a shout when he saw who it was, hurling down the rungs and throwing his arms around her waist. Immediately, he launched into a description of all the things he’d done and seen and heard since last they’d met.

Sajhe was a good storyteller, full of description and colour, and his amber eyes sparkled with excitement as he spoke.

“I need you to deliver one or two messages for me,
menhac
,” Esclarmonde said, after giving him his head for a while. “Dame Alais will excuse you.”

Sajhe was about to object, when the look on his great-grandmother’s face stopped him. “It won’t take long.”

Alais ruffled his hair. “You have an observant eye, Sajhe, and a skill with words. Perhaps you’ll be a poet when you are older?”

He shook his head. “I want to be a
chevalier
, Dame. I want to fight.”

“Sajhe,” said Esclarmonde sternly. “Listen to me now.”

She spoke the names of the people he was to visit and then gave him the message that two
parfaits
from Albi would be in the copse east of the suburb of Sant-Miquel in three nights’ time. “Are you sure of the message?” He nodded. “Good,” she smiled, kissing the top of his head, then put her finger to her lip. “Remember. Only to those of whom I have spoken. Now, go. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back and can recite more of your stories to Dame Alais.”

“Do you not fear he will be overheard?” asked Alais as Esclarmonde closed the door.

“Sajhe is a sensible boy. He knows to speak only to those for whom the message is intended.” She leaned out of the window and pulled the shutters closed. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“Only Francois. It was he who told me you were returned.”

A strange look appeared in Esclarmonde’s eyes, but she said nothing of it. “Best keep it that way, e.”

She sat down at the table and gestured that Alais should join her.

“Now, Alais. Was your journey to Besiers successful?”

Alais blushed. “You heard about that.”

“All of Carcassona knows of it. The talk has been of little else.” Her face serious. “I was concerned when I heard, coming so soon after the ; upon you.”

You know about that too? Since you did not send word, I thought perhaps you were away.“

“Far from it. I came to the Chateau the day you were discovered, but same Francois would not give me leave to enter. On your sister’s no one was to be admitted without her permission.”

“He did not say so,” she said, puzzled at the oversight. “Nor, indeed, did Oriane, although that surprises me less.”

“How so?”

She watched me all the time, with a purpose rather than affection, or r seemed.“ Alais paused. ”Forgive me for not confiding my plans in you, Esclarmonde, but the time between the decision and execution of the I was too brief to allow it.“

Esclarmonde waved her hand. “Let me tell you what happened here while you were gone. Some few days after you had left the Chateau, a man arrived asking after Raoul.”

“Raoul?”

“The boy who found you in the orchard.” Esclarmonde gave a wry smile. “He has gained some notoriety since the attack on you, aggrandising his own role to the point that if you heard him speak, you would think he had taken on the armies of Saladin single-handed to save your life.”

“I have no memory of him at all,” said Alais, shaking her head. “Did he see anything, do you think?”

Esclarmonde shrugged. “I doubt it. You had been missing more than a day before the alarm was raised. I cannot believe Raoul witnessed the actual attack otherwise he would have spoken up earlier. Anyway, the stranger approached Raoul and took him to the
taberna Sant Joan dels Evangelis
. He plied him with ale, flattered him. Raoul is but a boy for all his talk and swagger, and a rather dull-witted one at that, with the result that by the time Gaston was shutting up for the night, Raoul was incapable of putting one foot in front of the other. His companion offered to see him safely to his lodgings.”

Yes?“

“Raoul never arrived home. Nor has he been seen since.”

“And the man?”

“Vanished, as if he had never been. In the tavern, he claimed to be from Alzonne. While you were in Besiers, I travelled there. No one had heard of him.”

“So we can learn nothing from that quarter.”

Esclarmonde shook her head. “How came it that you were in the courtyard that time of night?” she said. Her voice was calm and steady, but there was no mistaking the serious intent behind her words.

Alais told her. When she had finished, Esclarmonde was silent for a moment.

There are two questions,“ she said in the end. ”The first is who knew that you had been summoned to your father’s presence, for I do not believe that your assailants were there by chance. The second is, presuming they were not the instigators of the plot, for whom were they acting?“

“I told no one. My father advised me against it.”

“Francois brought the message.”

Yes,“ admitted Alais, ”but I cannot believe Francois would—“

“Any number of servants might have seen him come to your chamber and overheard you talking.” She fixed Alais with her direct and intelligent stare. Why did you follow your father to Besiers?“

The change of subject was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took Alais by surprise.

“I was—” she began, sombre, but careful. She had come to Esclarmonde to find out answers to her questions. Instead, she found herself instead the witness. “He gave me a token,” she said, not taking her eyes from Esclarmonde’s face, “a token, with an engraving of a labyrinth. It was that the thieves took. Because of what my father had told me, I feared that every day that passed in ignorance of what had come to pass, might jeopardise the—‘ She broke off, not sure how to continue.

Instead of looking alarmed, Esclarmonde was smiling. “Did you tell him about the board too, Alais?” she said softly.

“On the eve of his departure, yes, before… before the attack. He was much perturbed, especially when I admitted I did not know where it had come from.” She paused. “But how do you know that I—”

“Sajhe saw it when he helped you buy cheese in the market and told me of it. As you remarked, he is observant.”

“It is a strange thing for a boy of eleven to remark upon.”

“He recognised its importance to me,” Esclarmonde replied.

“Like the
merel
!

Their eyes met.

Esclarmonde hesitated. “No,” she said, choosing her words with care. “No, not exactly.”

“You have it?” said Ala’is slowly.

Esclarmonde nodded.

“But why did you simply not ask? I would have given it willingly.”

“Sajhe was there the night of your disappearance to make just such a request. He waited and waited and when, finally, you still did not return your chamber, he took it. In the circumstances, it was good that he did.”

“And you have it still?”

Esclarmonde nodded.

Alais felt a surge of triumph, proud that she had been right about her the last guardian.

I saw the pattern. It spoke to me.

“Answer me this, Esclarmonde,” she said, her excitement making her hurry. “If the board belongs to you, why did my father not know it?”

Esclarmonde smiled. “For the same reason he does not know why I have it. Because Harif wished it. For the safety of the Trilogy.”

Alais couldn’t trust herself to speak.

“Good. So, now we understand one another, you must tell me all you know.”

Esclarmonde listened carefully until Alais had reached the end of her story.

“And Simeon is making his way to Carcassona?”

“Yes, although he gave to my father the book for safekeeping.”

“A wise precaution.” She nodded. “I shall looking forward to making his acquaintance properly. He always seemed a fine man.”

“I liked him enormously,” admitted Alais. “In Besiers, my father was disappointed to discover Simeon had but one of the books. He was expecting both.”

Esclarmonde was about to answer when there was a sudden hammering on the shutters and door.

Both women leaped to their feet.

“Atencion! Atencion!”

“What is it? What’s going on?” cried Alais.

“Soldiers! In your father’s absence, there have been a number of searches.”

“But what are they looking for?”

“Criminals, they say, but in truth for
Bons Homes
!

“But on whose authority do they act? The consuls?”

Esclarmonde shook her head. “Berenger de Rochefort, our noble Bishop; the Spanish monk Domingo de Guzman and his friar preachers; legates, who can say? They do not announce themselves.”

That’s against our laws to—“

Esclarmonde raised a finger to her lips. “Sssh. They might yet pass us by.”

At that moment, a savage kick sent splinters of wood flying into the room. The latch gave and the door smashed back against the stone wall with a hollow thud. Two men-at-arms, their features concealed by helmets worn low over their faces, burst into the room.

“I am Alais du Mas, the daughter of Intendant Pelletier. I demand to know on whose authority you act.”

They did not lower their weapons nor raise their visors.

“I insist that you—”

There was a flash of red in the doorway and to Alais’ horror, Oriane appeared in the doorway. “Sister! What brings you here in this manner?”

“I come at our father’s request to escort you back to the Chateau Comtal. Your somewhat hasty departure from Vespers has already reached his ears. Fearing some catastrophe might have overtaken you, he bid me find you.”

You are lying.

“He would never think such a thing unless you had planted the idea in his head in the first place,” she said immediately. Alais glanced at the soldiers. “And was it his idea to bring an armed guard?”

“We all have your best interests at heart,” she said, smiling slightly.

They were, I admit, perhaps overzealous.“

“There is no need for you to concern yourself. I will return to the Chateau Comtal when I am ready.”

Alais suddenly realised Oriane wasn’t paying attention. Her eyes were sweeping around the room. Alais felt a hard cold feeling in her stomach.

Could Oriane have overheard their conversation?

Immediately, she changed tactics. “On second thoughts, perhaps I will accompany you now. My business here is concluded.”

“Business, sister?”

Oriane started to prowl around the room, running her hand over the backs of the chairs and the surface of the table. She opened the lid of the chest standing in the corner, then let it fall shut with a snap. Alais I watched her anxiously.

She halted on the threshold of Esclarmonde’s consulting room. “What is it you do through there,
sorciere
,” Oriane said contemptuously, acknowledging Esclarmonde for the first time. “Potions, spells for the weak-minded?” She put her head inside, a look of disgust on her face, then withdrew. There are many who say you are a witch, Esclarmonde de Servian, a
faitilhier
as the common people say.“

How dare you address her like that!“ exclaimed Alais. ”

“You are welcome to look, Dame Oriane, if it pleases you,” said Esclarmonde mildly.