Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

Pelletier’s head shot up as if he’d been found out. Did Simeon know? How could he?

Simeon caught his expression, although he made no further reference to it. “Conversely, my faith tells me the world was made by God, that it is perfect in every particular. But whenever men turn away from the words of the prophets, the balance between God and man is disturbed and retribution will follow as sure as night follows the day.”

Pelletier opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“This war is not our affair, Bertrand, despite your duty to Viscount Trencavel. You and I have a wider purpose. We are joined by our vows. It is that which must now guide our steps and inform our decisions.” He reached out and clasped Pelletier’s shoulder. “So, my friend, keep your anger and your sword in readiness for those battles you can win.”

“How did you know?” he said. “Have you heard something?”

Simeon chuckled. “That you were a follower of the new church? No, no, I have heard nothing to that effect. It is a discussion we will have some time in the future, God willing, not now. Much as I would dearly love to talk theology with you, Bertrand, we have pressing matters to attend to.”

The arrival of the servant with a tray of hot mint tea and sweet biscuits stopped the conversation. She placed it on the table in front of them, before removing herself to a bench in the corner of the room.

“Do not concern yourself,” Simeon said, seeing Pelletier’s worry that their conversation was to be overheard. “Esther came with me from Chartres. She speaks Hebrew and a few words of French only. She does not understand your tongue at all.”

“Very well.” Pelletier pulled out Harif’s letter and handed it to Simeon.

“I received one such at Shauvot, a month past,” he said when he’d finished reading. “It warned me to expect you although, I confess, you have been slower than I expected.”

Pelletier folded the letter and returned it to his pouch.

“So the books are still in your possession, Simeon? Here within this house? We must take them-”

A violent hammering at the door shattered the tranquility of the room. Immediately, Esther was on her feet, her almond eyes alert. At a sign from Simeon, she hurried out into the corridor.

“You do still have the books?” repeated Pelletier, urgent now, the expression on Simeon’s face making him suddenly anxious. “They are not lost?”

“Not lost, my friend,” he started to say when they were interrupted by Esther.

“Master, there is a lady asking to be admitted.” The words in Hebrew rattled off her tongue, too fast for Pelletier’s rusty ears to follow.

“What manner of lady?”

Esther shook her head. “I know not, master. She says she must see your guest Intendant Pelletier.”

They all turned at the sound of feet in the corridor behind them.

“You left her alone?” Simeon said with concern, struggling to get up.

Pelletier also rose to his feet. He blinked, unwilling to trust the evidence of his eyes. Even thoughts of his mission disappeared from his mind as he looked at Alais, who had come to a halt in the doorway. Her face was flushed and her quick brown eyes were flashing with apology and determination.

“Forgive me for this intrusion,” she said, looking from her father to Simeon, then back, “but I did not think your servant would admit me.” In two strides, Pelletier had crossed the room and thrown his arms around her.

“Do not be angry that I disobeyed you,” she said, more timidly. “I had to come.”

“And this charming lady is…” said Simeon.

Pelletier took Alais’ hand and led her into the center of the room. “Of course. I am forgetting myself. Simeon, may I present to you my daughter Alais, although how or by what means she comes to be here in Besiers, I cannot tell you!” Alais bowed her head. “And this is my dearest, my oldest friend, Simeon of Chartres, formerly of the Holy City of Jerusalem.”

Simeon’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Bertrand’s daughter. Alais.” He took her hands. “You are most welcome.”

“Will you tell me of your friendship?” Alais said, as soon as she was seated on the sofa beside her father. She turned to Simeon. “I asked him once before, but he was not minded to confide in me then.”

Simeon was older than she had imagined. His shoulders were stooped and his face crisscrossed with lines, a map of a life that had seen grief and loss as well as great happiness and laughter. His eyebrows were thick and bushy and his eyes bright, revealing a sparkling intelligence. His curly hair was mostly gray, but his long beard, perfumed and oiled, was still as black as a raven’s wing. She could see why her father might have mistaken the man in the river for his friend.

Discreetly, Alais dropped her eyes to his hands and felt a flash of satisfaction. She had supposed right. On his left thumb he wore a ring identical to her fathers.

“Come, Bertrand,” Simeon was saying. “She has earned the story. After all, she has ridden far enough to hear it!”

Alais felt her father grow still beside her. She glanced at him. His mouth was set in a tight line.

He is angry now he realizes what I’ve done.

“You did not ride from Carcassona without an escort?” he said. “You would not be so foolish to make such a journey alone? You would not take such a risk?”

“I-”

“Answer me.”

“It seemed the wisest-”

“Wisest,” he erupted. “Of all the-”

Simeon chuckled. “Still the same old temper, Bertrand.”

Alais swallowed a smile as she put her hand on her father’s arm.

“ Paire ,” she said patiently. “You can see I am safe. Nothing happened.”

He glanced down at her scratched hands. Alais quickly pulled the cloak over them. “Nothing much happened. It’s nothing. A slight cut.”

“You were armed?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Then where-?”

“I thought it unwise to walk through the streets of Besiers so attired.”

Alais looked at him with innocent eyes.

“Quite,” he muttered under his breath. “And no ill befell you? You are not hurt?”

Aware of her bruised shoulder, Alais met his gaze. “Nothing,” she lied. He frowned, although he looked slightly mollified. “How did you know we were here?”

“I learned of it from Amiel de Coursan, the son of the seigneur, who most generously gave me escort.”

Simeon was nodding. “He’s much admired in these parts.”

“You have been very fortunate,” Pelletier said, still reluctant to let the matter drop. “Fortunate and very, very foolish. You could have been killed. I still cannot believe you-”

“You were going to tell her how we met, Bertrand,” said Simeon lightly. “The bells are no longer ringing, so the Council must now have started. We have a little time.”

For a moment, her father continued to scowl. Then his shoulders dropped and resignation filled his features.

“Very well, very well. Since you both wish it.”

Alais exchanged a glance with Simeon. “He wears the ring like yours, Paire .”

Pelletier smiled. “Simeon was recruited by Harif in the Holy Land, as I was, although some time earlier and our paths did not cross. As the threat from Saladin and his armies increased, Harif sent Simeon back to his native city of Chartres. I followed a few months later, taking the three parchments with me. The journey took more than a year, but when I finally reached Chartres, Simeon was waiting for me as Harif had promised.” His memories made him smile. “How much I hated the cold and wet after the heat, the light of Jerusalem. It was so bleak, so forsaken a place. But Simeon and I, we understood each other from the start. His task was to bind the parchments into three separate volumes. While he toiled over the books, I came to admire his learning, his wisdom and his good humor.”