They avoided the main routes in and out of the valley where roadblocks were still in place, heading south for the first few hours. Then as the winter dusk gave way to the black of night, they turned to the south east.
Bertrande was asleep, her cloak pulled up over her head to keep out the biting wind that whipped under the bottom of the hangings erected over the cart. Oriane had found her endless chatter irritating. She’d plagued her with questions about life in Carcassonne in the old days, before the war.
Oriane fed her biscuits, sugar loaf and spiced wine, with a sleeping draught strong enough to knock a soldier out for days. Finally, the child stopped talking and fell into a deep sleep.
“Wake up!”
Sajhe could hear someone talking. A man. Close by.
He tried to move. Pain shot through every part of his body. Blue flashes sparked behind his eyes.
“Wake up!” The voice was more insistent this time.
Sajhe flinched as something cold was pressed against his bruised face, soothing his skin. Slowly, the memory of the blows beating down on his head, his body, everywhere, came crawling back.
Was he dead?
Then he remembered. Someone shouted, further down the slope, yelling at the soldiers to stop. His assailants, caught out suddenly, stepping back. Someone, a commander, shouting orders in French. Being dragged down the mountain.
Not dead perhaps.
Sajhe tried to move again. He could feel something hard against his back. He realised his shoulders were pulled tight behind him. He tried to open his eyes, but found one was swollen shut. His other senses were heightened in response. He was aware of the movements of the horses, stamping their hooves on the ground. He could hear the voice of the wind and the cries of nightjars and a solitary owl. These were sounds he understood.
“Can you move your legs?” the man asked.
Sajhe was surprised to find he could, although it ached cruelly. One of the soldiers had stamped on his ankle when he was lying on the ground.
“Can you manage to ride?”
Sajhe watched the man go behind him to cut the ropes binding his arms to the post, and realised there was something familiar about him. Something he recognised in his voice, the turn of his head.
Sajhe staggered to his feet.
“To what do I owe this kindness?” he said, rubbing his wrists. Then, suddenly, he knew. Sajhe saw himself as an eleven year-old boy again, climbing the walls of the Chateau Comtal and along the battlements, looking for Alais. Listening at the window to hear laughter floating on the breeze. A man’s voice, talking and teasing.
“Guilhem du Mas,” he said slowly.
Guilhem paused and looked with surprise at Sajhe. “Have we met, friend?”
“You would not remember,” he said, barely able to look him in the face. Tell me, amic,“ he stressed the word. ”What do you want with me?“
“I came to…” Guilhem was nonplussed by his hostility. “You are Sajhe de Servian?”
“What of it?”
“For the sake of Alais, whom we both…” Guilhem stopped and composed himself. “Her sister, Oriane, is here, with one of her sons. Part of the Crusader army. Oriane has come for the book.”
Sajhe stared. “What book?” he said belligerently.
Guilhem pressed on regardless. “Oriane learned that you had a daughter. She’s taken her. I don’t know where they’re heading, but they left the camp just after dusk. I came to tell you and offer my help.” He stood up. “But if you don’t want it…”
Sajhe felt the colour drain from his face. Wait!“ he cried.
“If you want to get your daughter back alive,” Guilhem continued steadily, “I suggest you put your grievance against me to one side, whatever its cause.”
Guilhem held out his hand to help Sajhe to his feet.
“Do you know where Oriane is likely to have taken her?”
Sajhe stared at the man he had spent a lifetime hating, then for the sake of Alais and his daughter, took the outstretched hand.
“She has a name,” he said. “She’s called Bertrande.”
CHAPTER 77
Pic de Soularac
FRIDAY 8 JULY 2OO5
Audric and Alice climbed the mountain in silence.
Too much had been said for any more words to be needed. Audric was breathing heavily, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground at his feet and did not once falter.
“It can’t be much further,” she said, as much to herself as to him.
“No.”
Five minutes later, Alice realised they had come at the site from the opposite side to the car park. The tents had all gone, but there was evidence of their recent occupancy with the brown, dried-out patches of ground and the odd random piece of rubbish. Alice noticed a trowel and a tent peg, which she picked up and put in her pocket.
They kept climbing, turning up to the left, until they arrived at the boulder Alice had dislodged. It was lying on its side below the entrance to the chamber, exactly where it had fallen. In the ghostly white light of the moon it looked like the head of a fallen idol.
2›Was it really only Monday? 2›
Baillard stopped and leaned back against the boulder to catch his breath.
There’s not much further to go,“ she said, wanting to reassure him. ”I’m sorry. I should have warned you it was so steep.“
Audric smiled. “I remember,” he said. He took her hand. His skin felt tissue-thin. “When we get to the cave, you will wait until I say it is safe to come after me. You must promise me you will stay hidden.”
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go in alone,” she said stubbornly. “Even if you’re right and they don’t come until after dark, you could get trapped. I wish you’d let me help you, Audric. If I come in with you, I can help you find the book. It will be quicker with two, easier. We can be in and out in minutes. Then we can both hide out here and see what happens.”
“Forgive me, but it is better for us to separate.”
“I really don’t see why, Audric. Nobody knows we’re here. We should be quite safe,” she said, even though she felt far from it.
“You are very brave, Madomaisela,” he said softly. “As she was. Alais always put the safety of others before her own. She sacrificed much for those she loved.”
“No one’s sacrificing anything,” Alice said sharply. Fear was making her nervous. “And I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t let me come earlier. We could have come to the chamber when it was still light and not run the risk of being caught.”
Baillard behaved as if she had not spoken.
“You telephoned Inspector Noubel?” he asked.
There is no point arguing. Not now.
“Yes,” she sighed heavily. “I said what you told me to say.”
“Ben,” he said softly. “I understand you think I am being unwise, Madomaisela, but you will see. All must happen at the right time, in the right order. There will be no truth else.”
“Truth?” she repeated. “You’ve told me all there is to know, Audric. Everything. Now my only concern is to get Shelagh – and Will – out of here in one piece.”
“Everything?” he said softly. “Is such a thing possible?”
Audric turned and looked up at the entrance, a small black opening in the expanse of rock. “One truth may contradict another,” he murmured. “Now is not then.” He took her arm. “Shall we complete the last stage of our journey?” he said.
Alice glanced quizzically at him, wondering at the mood that had overtaken him. He was calm, thoughtful. A kind of passive acceptance had descended over him, while she was very nervous, frightened at all the things that could go wrong, terrified Noubel would be too late, scared that Audric would turn out to be mistaken.