Kate Mosse - Labyrinth

“Is there anything you need? Physicians, medicines?”

“A little more water, if it can be spared? I sent Rixende to find Francois, some time ago, but he has not returned.”

“It shall be done.”

Trencavel glanced over her shoulder to the bed. “How has the affliction taken hold so quickly?”

It is hard to say why such a disease strikes one so hard and yet passes another by, Messire . My father’s constitution was much weakened by his time in the Holy Land. He is particularly susceptible to ailments of the stomach.“ She hesitated. ”God willing, it will not spread.“

There is no doubt it is siege sickness?“ he said grimly. Alais shook her head. ”I am sorry to hear it. Send for me if there is any change in his condition.“

As the hours slid slowly one into the next, her father’s grip on life got weaker. He had moments of lucidity, when he seemed to be aware of what was happening to him. At other times, it seemed he no longer knew where or who he was.

Shortly before dawn, Pelletier’s breathing became shallow. Dozing by his side, Alais heard the change and was immediately alert.

“ Filha …”

She felt his hands and his brow and knew there was not long to go. The fever had left him, leaving his skin cold.

His soul struggles to be set free.

“Help me…” he managed to say,“… to sit.”

With Rixende’s help, Alais managed to prop him up. The sickness had aged him in the course of the one night.

“Don’t speak,” she whispered. “Guard your strength.”

“Alais,” he admonished her softly. “You know my time has come.” His chest was full of splashing, rattling sounds as he struggled for breath. His eyes were hollow and ringed in yellow and pale brown blotches were forming on his hands and neck. Will you send fora parfait ? He forced his sunken eyes open. “I wish to make a good end.”

“You wish to be consoled, Paire ?” she said carefully.

Pelletier managed a thin smile and, for an instant, the man he had been in his life, shone through.

“I have listened well to the words of the Bons Chretiens . I have learned the words of the melhorer and the consolament. ..” He broke off. “I was born a Christian and I will die one, but not in the corrupt embrace of those who wage war in God’s name at our gates. With God’s grace, if I have lived well enough, I will join the glorious company of spirits in Heaven.”

A fit of coughing overtook him. Alais cast her eyes around the room in desperation. She sent a servant to inform Viscount Trencavel her father’s condition had worsened. As soon as he had gone, she summoned Rixende.

“I need you to fetch the parfaits. They were about the courtyard earlier. Tell them there is one who wishes to receive the consolament .”

Rixende looked terrified.

“No blame will attach itself to you for carrying a message,” she said, trying to reassure the girl. “You do not have to return with them.”

A movement from her father drew her attention back to the bed.

“Quick, Rixende. Make haste.”

Alais bent down. What is it, Paire ? I’m here with you.“

He was trying to speak, but the words seemed to shrivel in his throat before he could utter them. She tipped a little wine into his mouth and wiped his desiccated lips with a wet cloth.

“The Grail is the word of God, Alais. This is what Harif tried to teach me, although I did not understand.” His voice stuttered. “But without the merel … the truth of the labyrinth, it is a false path.”

What about the merel ? she whispered urgently, not understanding.

You were right, Alais. I was too stubborn. I should have let you go when there was still a chance.“

Alais was struggling to make sense of his meandering words. “What path?”

“I have not seen it,” he was murmuring, “nor will I now. The cave… few have seen it.”

Alais spun round to the door in despair.

2›Where is Rixende? 2›

In the corridor outside was the sound of running feet. Rixende appeared, followed by two parfaits. Alais recognised the elder, a dark featured man with a thick beard and a gentle expression who she’d met once at Esclarmonde’s house. Both were wearing dark blue robes and twisted rope belts with metal buckles in the shape of a fish.

He bowed. “Dame Alais.” He looked past her to the bed. “It is your father, Intendant Pelletier, who has need of consolation?”

She nodded.

“He has the breath to speak?”

“He will find strength to do so.”

There was another disturbance in the corridor as Viscount Trencavel appeared on the threshold.

“ Messire -” she said in alarm. “He requested the parfaits … my father wishes to make a good end, Messire .”

Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he ordered the door to be closed.

“Nevertheless,” he said. “I will stay.”

Alais stared at him for a moment, then turned back to her father as the officiating parfait summoned her.

“Intendant Pelletier is in great pain, but his wits are strong still and his’t courage holds.” Alais nodded. “He has done nothing to harm our church nor owes us a debt?”

“He is a protector of all friends of God.”

Alais and Raymond-Roger stood back as the parfait walked over to the and leaned over the dying man. Bertrand’s eyes flickered as he whispered the melhorer , the blessing.

“Do you vow to follow the rule of justice and truth and to give yourself to God and to the Church of the Bons Chretiens? ”

Pelletier forced the words from his lips. “I – do.”

The parfait placed the parchment copy of the New Testament on his, “May God bless you, make a Good Christian of you and lead you to end.” He recited the B enedicte , then the Adoremus three times.

Alais was moved by the simplicity of the service. Viscount Trencavel looked straight ahead. He seemed to be keeping himself under control with an enormous effort of will.

“Bertrand Pelletier, are you ready to receive the gift of the Lord’s Prayer?”

Her father murmured his assent.

In a clear, true voice, the parfait spoke the paternoster seven times over, pausing only to allow Pelletier to make his responses.

“This is the prayer that Jesus Christ brought into the world and taught to the Bons Homes . Never eat or drink again without repeating this prayer first; and if you fail of this duty, you must need do penance again.”

Pelletier tried to nod. The hollow whistling in his chest was louder now, like the wind in autumn trees.

The parfait began to read from the Gospel of John.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God.“ Pelletier’s hand jerked above the covers as the parfait continued to read.”… And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.“

His eyes suddenly flew open.“ Vertat ,” he whispered. “Yes, the truth.”

Alais grabbed his hand in alarm, but he was slipping away. The light had gone from his eyes. She was aware the parfait was speaking faster now, as if he feared there was not enough time to complete the ritual.

“He must speak the final words,” he urged Alais. “Help him.”

“ Paire , you must…” Grief took her voice from her.

“For every sin… I have committed… by word or deed,” he rasped, “I… I ask pardon of God and the Church… and all here present.”

With evident relief, the parfait placed his hands on Pelletier’s head and gave him the kiss of peace. Alais caught her breath. A look of release had transformed her father’s face as the grace of the consolament descended to him. It was a moment of transcendence, of understanding. His spirit was ready, now, to leave his sick body and the earth that held him.