Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

“She was right,” she said grimly.

“ Menina knew you would try to persuade him, but thought Simeon was the only person Intendant Pelletier would heed. I didn’t want her to go,” he wailed, “but she went anyway to the Jewish quartier . I followed, but because I couldn’t let her see me, I stayed back, and so I lost sight of her in the woods. I got frightened. I waited until sundown, but then imagining what she would say if she returned home and found I’d disobeyed her, I came home. That’s when I…” he broke off, his amber eyes burning in his white face.

“Straight away I knew it was her. She had collapsed, outside the gates. Her feet were bleeding as if she had walked a long way.” Sajhe“ looked up at her. ”I wanted to fetch you, Dame, but I didn’t dare. With Gaston’s help, I got her down here. I tried to remember what she would do, which ointments to use.“ He shrugged. ”I did my best.“

You did excellently well,“ Alais said fiercely. ”Esclarmonde will be very proud of you.“

A movement from the bed drew their attention. They both turned back immediately.

“Esclarmonde,” said Alais. “Can you hear me? We’re both here. You’re quite safe.”

“She’s trying to say something.”

Alais watched her hands working frantically. “I think she wants parchment and ink,” she said.

With Sajhe’s help, Esclarmonde managed to write.

“It says Francois, I think,” said Alais, frowning.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he can help,” she said. “Listen to me, Sajhe. I have bad news. Simeon is almost certainly dead. My father – my father also has died:

Sajhe took her hand. The gesture was so thoughtful, it brought tears to her eyes. “I am sorry.”

Alais bit her lip to stop herself from crying. “So for his sake – Simeon. Esclarmonde also – I must keep my word and find my way to Harif. I have…” she faltered again. “I regret I have only the Book of Words . Simeon’s book is gone.”

“But Intendant Pelletier gave it to you.”

“My sister took it. My husband admitted her to our chamber,” she said. He has given his heart to my sister. He is no longer to be trusted, Sajhe. It’s why I cannot go back to the chateau. With my father dead, there is nothing to stop them.“

Sijhe looked to his grandmother, then back to Alais.

“Will she live?” he said in a quiet voice.

“Her injuries are severe, Sajhe. She’s lost the sight in her left eye, but… there is no infection. Her spirit is strong. She will recover if she chooses to do so.”

He nodded, suddenly older than his eleven years.

“But I will take Esclarmonde’s book, by your leave, Sajhe.”

For a moment, he looked as if his tears were at last going to claim him. “That book, also, is lost,” he said in the end.

“No!” said Alais. “How?”

The people who did… they took it from her,“ he said. ” Menina took it with her when she set out for the Jewish quartier . I saw her take it from its hiding place.“

“Only one book,” Alais said, close to tears herself. “Then we are lost. It has all been in vain.”

For the next five days, they lived a strange existence.

Alais and Sajhe took it in turns to venture up into the streets under cover of darkness. It was immediately clear that there was no way of getting out of Carcassonne unseen. The siege was unbreakable. There was a guard on every postern, every gate, beneath every tower, a solid ring of men and steel around the walls. Day and night, the siege engines bombarded the walls, so the inhabitants of the Cite no longer knew if they heard the sounds of the missiles or but the echo of them in their heads.

It was a relief to return to the cool, damp tunnels where time stood still and there was no night or day.

Guilhem stood beneath the shade of the great elm in the centre of the Cour d’Honneur.

On the behalf of the Abbot of Citeaux, the Count of Auxerre had ridden up to the Porte Narbonnaise and offered safe conduct to parley. With this surprise proposition Viscount Trencavel’s natural optimism had returned. It was evident in his face and his bearing as he addressed the household. His hope and fortitude rubbed off a little on those listening.

The reasons behind the Abbot’s sudden change of mind were debatable. The Crusaders were making little progress, but the siege had only lasted a little over a week, which was nothing. Did the Abbot’s motive matter? Viscount Trencavel claimed not.

Guilhem was barely listening. He was trapped in a web of his own making and could see no way out, neither through words nor the sword. He lived on a knife-edge. Alais had been missing for five days. Guilhem had sent discreet search parties out into the Cite and scoured the Chateau Comtal, but was no nearer to finding where Oriane was keeping her prisoner. He was trapped in a web of his own deceit. Too late had he ed how well Oriane had prepared the ground. If he did not do what she wanted, he would be denounced as a traitor and Alais would suffer.

“So, my friends,” Trencavel concluded. Who will accompany me on this journey?“

Guilhem felt Oriane’s sharp finger in his back. He found himself stepping forward. He knelt down, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and offered his service. As Raymond-Roger clasped him on the shoulder in gratitude, Guilhem burned with shame.

“You have our great thanks, Guilhem. Who, now, will go with you?”

Six other chevaliers joined Guilhem. Oriane slipped between them and bowed before the Viscount.

“ Messire , by your leave.”

Congost had not noticed his wife in the mass of men. He flushed red and flapped his hands in embarrassment, as if shooing crows from a field.

“Withdraw, Dame,” he stammered in his shrill voice. “This is no place for you.”

Oriane ignored him. Trencavel raised his hand and summoned her forward. What is it that you want to say, Dame?“

“Forgive me, Messire , honoured chevaliers , friends… husband. With your leave and God’s blessing, I want to offer myself as a member of this party. I have lost a father and now, it appears, a sister too. Such grief is heavy to bear. But if my husband will release me, I would like to redeem my loss and show my love for you, Messire , by this act. It is what my father would wish.”

Congost looked as if he would like the ground to open up and swallow him. Guilhem stared at the ground. Viscount Trencavel could not hide his surprise.

“With respect, Dame Oriane, this is not a woman’s office.”

“In which case, I offer myself as a willing hostage, Messire . My presence will be proof of your fair intentions, as clear an indication as any that Carcassona will abide by the conventions of the parley.”

Trencavel considered for a moment, and then turned to Congost. “She is your wife. Can you spare her in our cause?”

Jehan stuttered and rubbed his sweaty hands on his tunic. He wanted to refuse his permission, but it was clear the proposal had merit in the Viscount’s eyes.

“My wishes are but the servants to yours,” he mumbled.

Trencavel bid her rise. “Your late father, my esteemed friend, would be proud of what you do today.”

Oriane looked up at him from under her dark lashes. “And with your leave, may I take Francois with me? He too, united as we all are in grief for my worthy father, would be glad of the chance to serve.”

Guilhem felt the bile rising in his throat, unable to believe any of the listeners would be convinced by Oriane’s show of filial affection, but they were. Admiration showed in every face, bar her husband’s. Guilhem grimaced. He and Congost alone knew Oriane’s true worth. All others were beguiled by her beauty, her gentle words. As once he had been.