Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

Ninian nudged him. ‘Where does that lead to?’ He indicated a low arched doorway deep in the shadows.

‘I don’t know. Why?’ Josse whispered back.

‘There’s someone hiding there. I’m sure I saw movement.’

‘Come on. We’ll creep round, keeping our backs to the wall, and see who it is.’

It seemed to take a long time to make their slow and careful way to the doorway. As they approached, Josse drew out his long knife. They slowed their progress to a crawl, and Josse stared into the darkness behind each pillar before drawing level with it. They reached the arch and went on past it, investigating for some way on the far side. They found nothing.

‘He’s probably gone through the doorway,’ Josse murmured softly. ‘We’ll follow.’ Ninian nodded.

Josse went through the doorway and found himself at the top of a spiral staircase. The light from the nave behind him did not reach far and soon he was descending in pitch darkness. A light would have helped, for the steps were slippery and in places uneven, but it would also have alerted anyone beneath to their approach. He crept on, his right hand clutched on the hilt of his knife and his left maintaining a steadying contact with the wall. Ninian was right behind him. The boy’s presence was both reassuring and something else to worry about.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Edging forward, Josse peered out. There was a glow of light and by it he saw that they were in a crypt. Slowly, silently, they moved forward towards the light. Presently Josse made out the sound of soft chanting.

They emerged from the aisle that led from the entrance — it appeared that the layout of the vast crypt followed that of the cathedral above — and a dimly lit space opened out before them. There was a well and, beyond it, a dark opening leading to a further chamber. The source of both the light and the chanting appeared to be within. They crept on.

The further chamber, although lit only by a circle of lanterns about five paces in diameter, gave the appearance of being enormous. The vaulted ceiling arched over their heads, supported on massive pillars spaced at regular intervals. The circle of light appeared to surround a depression whose surface was bumpy and uneven, like the floor of a cave. A subterranean cave, Josse thought with a shudder, for now they must be deep under the ground, in the very womb of the earth.

One voice was chanting and it came from a figure that stood with its back to Josse and Ninian. It was tall, and the broad shoulders were hunched over a bent back. It was clad in a black cloak or robe whose folds swept down to the floor; it was bareheaded, the lantern light catching glints from the snow-white hair that flowed down to the shoulders. It — he — was intent on what he was doing. Before him on the rough floor was an object made of dark wood. The goddess had returned to her proper medium, but the wrong hand had brought her here.

Ninian gave a sharp, quickly suppressed intake of breath and said in Josse’s ear, so softly that it was as if he mouthed the words, ‘Philippe de Loup.’

The crooked back and the white hair suggested someone old, and Josse had imagined a man still in his full vigour. ‘You are sure?’ he murmured.

‘Yes.’ Ninian spoke with impatience. Then, ‘Josse, we must stop him! She is not his to position or even to worship, for he has forfeited his rights.’ Then, vehemently, he added, ‘The guardianship of the Knights of Arcturus is over.’

Slowly Josse nodded. Then cautiously he began to move forward. Ninian was right beside him. They were ten paces from de Loup. Eight. Five. Josse raised his knife. Ninian had a dagger in his hand.

Josse was about to announce their presence and demand the figure when, very slowly, de Loup turned round to face them. ‘Ninian de Courtenay,’ he said in a low, strangely beautiful voice.

Even in that moment of extreme tension, a jolt went through Josse; Ninian used his mother’s name, not that of his stepfather. Suddenly it seemed to him that Joanna was there beside him, her spirit standing guard beside her lover and her son.

Ninian pointed at the figure. ‘You cannot have her,’ he said, his voice high with strain and making him sound even younger than he was.

De Loup laughed. ‘But I do have her,’ he remarked. ‘I have brought her to a fitting resting place.’

‘It is not for you to decide what is fitting!’ Ninian cried.

Now de Loup looked angry. ‘Is it not?’ he said coldly. ‘It is for a stripling of a lad to decide, is it? A callow boy who thinks he knows everything is to dictate to grown men whose ancestors found her, worshipped her and guarded her for a hundred years?’

‘You are not worthy of those ancestors!’ Ninian shouted. ‘She gave you power but you have abused the gift. You have descended into vice so vile that it is not to be spoken of in this sacred place, and it is only your wealth and the presence in your number of the rich and influential that keeps you immune from the laws of the Church and the State!’

If de Loup was angry, then Ninian was incandescent with rage. He stood straight and slim beside Josse, blue eyes catching the light and blazing like the heart of a flame. In a strange moment of detachment, Josse thought, I wish his parents could see him. In very different ways, they would both be so proud.

Incredibly, Philippe de Loup was laughing. ‘So, lad, what are you going to do?’

Ninian stepped over the circle of lanterns and up to de Loup. ‘I am going to take her to the place where she wishes to be.’ He put his dagger in his belt and, bending down, swiftly picked up the black figure, cradling her in both hands. Josse, moving forward with him, raised his knife and pointed it at de Loup’s heart.

‘You have another protector, I see,’ de Loup said, regarding Josse out of dark, hooded eyes. ‘You, sir, are going to see the boy and his treasure safe back to this new place?’ He made the suggestion sound risible.

‘Aye,’ Josse said firmly. ‘I am.’ He kept the knifepoint up and Ninian stepped back outside the circle. Backing away, still facing de Loup, he moved with Ninian towards the stairs.

Just then a group of dark figures appeared out of the shadows, quickly crossing the floor until they formed a circle that echoed the circle of lanterns. But there were spaces among the figures; there were thirteen lanterns and only eight men. They had trapped Josse and Ninian in the space between them and the lights.

De Loup said pleasantly, ‘Let me present the remaining Knights of Arcturus. We are but nine now, I fear; one betrayed us, two died at Chalus and-’

‘One of those was King Richard!’ Josse burst out. They were trapped; there was nothing to lose. Perhaps if he revealed what he knew and told de Loup that others were in on the secret, he might at least buy them some time. At most, make a bargain. ‘He was seen leaving the Ile d’Oleron,’ he hurried on. ‘He was careless, for he let the boatman who ferried the three of you out to the ship see his face. The boatman is a loyal subject of Queen Eleanor and he told her what he saw.’

De Loup was chuckling quietly. ‘And I suppose she has sent you, sir knight, to ensure that the secret never emerges?’ Then, his face darkening, he spat out, ‘Fool! Fool of a man, to believe the word of a peasant!’ He winced suddenly as if in severe pain, putting a hand to his head. Then, dark eyes on Ninian, he said, ‘You all but killed me, boy. You cracked my skull and something has happened to me-’ He broke off. ‘But, as you see, I still stand.’ Then he made a movement with his right hand and as one body the eight knights stepped forward. One pace, two, three and then Josse and Ninian were face to face with their adversaries.