Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

“None has returned,” added Pons.

“Either way, there will be no fighting,” said Gaston quietly. “The garrison has surrendered. The French have already taken possession of the main gates and towers.”

“What!” Alais exclaimed, looking in disbelief from face to face. What are the terms of the surrender?“

That all citizens, Cathar, Jew and Catholic, will be allowed to leave Carcassona without fear of our lives, carrying nothing but the clothes we stand up in.“

“There are to be no interrogations? No burnings?”

“It seems not. The entire population is to be exiled, but not harmed.”

Alais sank down in a chair before her legs gave way from under her.

“What of Dame Agnes?”

“She and the young prince are to be given safe conduct into the custody of the Count of Foix, provided she renounces all claims on behalf of her son.” Gaston cleared his throat. “I am sorry for the loss of your husband and sister, Dame Alais.”

“Does anyone know the fate of our men?”

Pons shook his head.

“Is it a trick, think you?” she said fiercely.

“There is no way of knowing, Dame. Only when the exodus begins will we see if the French are as good as their word.”

“Everyone is to leave through one gate, the Porte d’Aude to the west of the Cite at the ringing of the bells at dusk.”

“It is over then,” she said, almost in a whisper. “The Ciutat has surrendered.”

At least my father did not live to see the viscount in French hands.

“Esclarmonde improves daily, but she is still weak. Can I impose upon you further and ask if you could accompany her from the Ciutat ? She paused. ”For reasons I dare not confide, for your sake as much as Esclarmonde’s, it would be wisest if we travelled separately.“

Gaston nodded. “You fear those who inflicted these appalling injuries in the first instance might yet be looking for her?”

Alais looked at him in surprise. “Well, yes,” she admitted.

“It will be an honour to help you, Dame Alais.” He flushed red. “Your father… He was a fair man.”

She nodded. “He was.”

As the dying rays of the setting sun painted the outer walls of the Chateau Comtal with a fierce orange light, the courtyard, the walkways and the Great Hall were silent. Everything was abandoned, empty.

At the Porte d’Aude, a mass of frightened and bewildered people were herded together, desperately trying to keep sight of their loved ones, averting their eyes from the contemptuous faces of the French soldiers, who stared at them as if they were less than human. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords as if only waiting for an excuse.

Alais hoped her disguise would be good enough. She shuffled forward, awkward in men’s boots several times too big for her, keeping close to the man in front. She had strapping around her chest to flatten her and to conceal the books and parchments. In breeches, shirt and a nondescript straw hat, she looked like any other boy. She had pebbles in her mouth, which altered the shape of her face, and she’d cut her hair and rubbed mud in it to darken it.

The line moved forward. Alais kept looking down, for fear of catching the eye of anyone who might recognise her and give her away. The line thinned to a single file the closer they got to the gate. There were four Crusaders on guard, their expressions dull and resentful. They were stopping people, forcing them to remove their clothes to prove they were smuggling nothing underneath.

Alais could see the guards had stopped Esclarmonde’s litter. Clutching a kerchief over his mouth, Gaston was explaining his mother was very ill.

The guard pulled back the curtain and immediately stepped back. Alais hid a smile. She had sewed rotting meat into a pig’s bladder and wrapped stained, bloodied bandages around her feet.

The guard waved them through.

Sajhe was several families behind, travelling with Senher and Na Couza and their six children, who had similar colouring. She had rubbed dirt into his hair to darken it too. The only thing she could not disguise were his eyes, so he was under strict instruction not to look up if he could help it.

The line lurched forward once more. It’s my turn. They’d agreed she would pretend not to understand if anyone spoke to her.

2›Toi! Paysan. Qu’est-ce que tu portes la?“ 2›

She kept her head down, resisting the temptation to touch the strapping around her body.

2›“Eh, toi!” 2›

The pike cut through the air and Alais braced herself for a blow that never came. Instead, the girl in front of her was knocked to the ground.

She scrambled in the dirt for her hat. She raised her frightened face to her accuser.

“Canhot.”

What’s she say?“ the guard muttered. ”I can’t understand a word they say.“

“ Chien . She’s got a puppy.”

Before any of them knew what was happening, the soldier had hauled the dog out of her arms and run it through with his spear. Blood splattered over the front of the girl’s dress.

“Allez! Vite.”

The girl was too shocked to move. Alais helped her to her feet and encouraged her to keep moving, steering her through the gate, fighting the impulse to turn around and check on Sajhe. Soon, she was out.

Now I see them.

On the hill overlooking the gate were the French barons. Not the leaders, who Alais presumed were waiting until the evacuation was over before making their entrance into Carcassonne, but knights wearing the colours of Burgundy, Nevers and Chartres.

At the end of the row, closest to the path, a tall, thin man sat astride a powerful grey stallion. Despite the long southern summer, his skin was still as white as milk. Beside him was Francois. Next to him, Alais recognised Oriane’s familiar red dress.

But not Guilhem.

Keep walking, keeping your eyes fastened on the ground.

She was so close now that she could smell the leather of the saddles and bridles of the horses. Oriane’s eyes seemed to be burning into her.

An old man, with sad eyes full of pain, tapped her on the arm. He needed help on the steep slope. Alais gave him her shoulder. It was the luck she needed. Looking to all the world like a grandson and grand father, she passed directly beneath Oriane’s gaze without being recognised.

The path seemed to last forever. Finally, they reached the shaded area at the bottom of the slope where the ground levelled out and the woods and marshes began. Alais saw her companion reunited with his son and daughter-in-law, then detached herself from the main crowd and slipped into the trees.

As soon as she was out of sight, Alais spat the stones from her mouth.

The inside of her cheeks were raw and dry. She rubbed her jaw, trying to ease the discomfort. She took her hat off and ran her fingers through her stubbly hair. It felt like damp straw, prickly and uncomfortable on the back of her neck.

A shout at the gate drew her attention.

No, please. Not him.

A soldier was holding Sajhe by the scruff of the neck. She could see him kicking, trying to get free. He was holding something in his hands. A small box.

Alais’s heart plummeted. She couldn’t risk going back up, so was powerless to do anything. Na Couza was arguing with the soldier, who struck her round the head, sending her sprawling back into the dirt. Sajhe took his chance. He wriggled out of the man’s grasp and scrambled down the slope. Senher Couza helped his wife to her feet.

Alais held her breath. For a moment, it seemed as if it was going to be all right. The soldier had lost interest. But then Alais heard a woman shouting. Oriane was shouting and pointing at Sajhe, ordering the guards to stop him.

She’s recognised him.