Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

Alice stared dumbstruck at Audric, but his face was a closed book and she could read nothing in it.

“That Christ did not die on the Cross,” she repeated, hardly able to believe what she was saying.

“Or other stories,” he said slowly. “Some claimed that it was at Narbonne, rather than Marseilles, that Mary Magdalene and Joseph of Arimathea had landed. For centuries it has been common belief that something of great value was hidden somewhere in the Pyrenees.”

“So it was not the Cathars who possessed the secret of the Grail,” she said, putting the pieces together in her mind, “but Alais. They gave her sanctuary.”

A secret hidden behind a secret. Alice sat back in her chair, running back over the sequence of events in her mind.

“And now the labyrinth cave has been opened.”

“For the first time in nearly eight hundred years, the books can be brought together once more,” he said. “And although you, Alice, do not know if you should trust me or dismiss what I say as the delusional ramblings of an old man, there are others who do not doubt.”

Alais believed in the truth of the Grail.

Deep inside, beyond the limits of her conscious thought, Alice knew he spoke the truth. It was her rational self that found it hard to accept.

“Marie-Cecile,” she said heavily.

“Tonight, Madame de l’Oradore will go to the labyrinth cave and attempt to summon the Grail.”

Alice felt a wave of apprehension sweep over her.

“But she can’t,” she said quickly. “She doesn’t have the Book of Words . She doesn’t have the ring.”

“I fear she realises the Book of Words must still be within the chamber.”

“Is it?”

“I do not know for sure.”

“And the ring? She doesn’t have that either.” She dropped her eyes to his thin hands laid flat on the table.

“She knows I will come.”

“But, that’s crazy,” she exploded. “How can you even contemplate going anywhere near her?”

“Tonight she will attempt to summon the Grail,” he said in his low, level voice. “Because of that, they know I will come. I cannot let that happen.”

Alice banged her hands on the table. “What about Will? What about Shelagh? Don’t you care about them? It won’t help them if you are taken as well.”

“It is because I care about them – about you, Alice – that I will go. I believe Marie-Cecile intends to force them to participate in the ceremony. There must be five participants, the Navigataire and four others.”

“Marie-Cecile, her son, Will, Shelagh and Authie?”

“No, not Authie. Another.”

“Then who?”

He avoided the question. “I do not know where Shelagh or Will are now,” he said, as if thinking aloud, “but I believe we will find they are taken to the cave at nightfall.”

“Who, Audric?” Alice repeated, firmer this time.

Again he did not answer. He rose to his feet, walked to the window and closed the shutters, before turning to face her.

“We should go.”

Alice was frustrated, nervous, bewildered, and most of all frightened. And yet, at the same time, she felt she had no choice.

She thought of Alais’ name on the Family Tree, separated by eight hundred years from her own. She pictured the symbol of the labyrinth, connecting them across time and space.

Two stories woven into one.

Alice picked up her belongings and followed Audric out into the remains of the fading day.

Montsegur

MARC 1244

In their hiding place beneath the citadel, Alais and her three companions tried to blot out the agonised sound of the torture. But the shouts of pain and the horror penetrated even the thick rock of the mountain. The cries both of the dying and the survivors slid like monsters into her refuge.

Alais prayed for Rixende’s soul and for its return to God, for all her friends, good men and women, for the pity of it. All she could hope was that her plan had worked.

Only time would tell if Oriane had been deceived into thinking Alais and the Book of Words had been consumed by the fires.

So great a risk.

Alais, Harif and their guides were to remain in their stone tomb until nightfall and the evacuation of the citadel was completed. Then, under cover of darkness, the four fugitives would make their way down the precipitous mountain paths and head for Los Seres. If their luck held, she’d be home by dusk tomorrow.

They were in clear breach of the terms of the truce and surrender, if they were caught, retribution would be swift and brutal, Alais had no doubt. The cave was barely more than a fold in the rock, shallow and close to the surface. If soldiers searched the citadel thoroughly, they were sure to be discovered.

Alais bit her lip at the thought of her daughter. In the darkness, she felt Harif reach for her hand. His skin was dry and dusty, like the desert sands.

“Bertrande is strong,” he said, as if he knew what distressed her. “She is like you, e? Her courage will hold. Soon, you will be together again. It’s not long to wait.”

“But she’s so young, Harif, too young to witness such things. She must be so frightened…”

“She is brave, Alais. Sajhe too. They will not fail us.”

If I knew you were right…

In the dark, her heart wracked with doubt and fear of what was to come, Alais sat dry-eyed, waiting for the day to pass. The anticipation, not knowing what was happening up above, was almost more than she could bear. The thought of Bertrande’s pale, white face continued to haunt her.

And the screaming of the Bons Homes as the fire took them went on in her head for a long time after the last victim had fallen silent.

A huge cloud of acrid black smoke was hovering like a storm cloud over the valley, blotting out the day.

Sajhe held Bertrande’s hand tightly as they walked through the Great Gate and out of the castle that had been their home for nearly two years.

He’d locked his pain deep inside his heart, in a place where the Inquisitors could not reach it. He would not grieve for Rixende now. He could not fear for Alais now. He must concentrate on protecting Bertrande and seeing them both safely returned to Los Seres.

The Inquisitors’ tables were ready at the bottom of-the slopes. The process was to start immediately, in the shadow of the pyre. Sajhe recognised Inquisitor Ferrier, a man loathed throughout the region for his rigid adherence to both the spirit and the letter of ecclesiastical law. He slipped his eyes to the right where Ferrier’s partner stood. Inquisitor Duranti was no less feared.

He held Bertrande’s hand tighter.

When they got on to the flatter ground, Sajhe realised they were dividing the prisoners up. Old men, members of the garrison and boys were being sent one way, the women and children another. He felt a flash of fear. Bertrande was going to have to face the Inquisitors without him.

She sensed the change in him and looked up, frightened, into his face. What’s happening? What are they going to do to us?“

“ Brava , they are interrogating the men and the women separately,” he said. “Don’t worry. Answer their questions. Be brave and stay exactly where you are until I come for you. Don’t go anywhere, with anyone else, you understand? No one else at all.”

“What will they ask me?” she said in a small voice.

“Your name, your age,” Sajhe replied, going over the details she was to hold in her mind one more time. “I’m known as a member of the garrison, but there is no reason for them to associate us together. When they ask you, say you do not know your father. Give Rixende as your mother and tell them you have lived all your life here at Montsegur. Whatever happens, do not mention Los Seres. Can you remember all this?”