“Leave Will to me. He, also, is not your concern.”
Will was concealed in the cupboard in the kitchen passage.
It was cramped and smelled of leather coats, old boots and waxed jackets, but it was the only place that gave him a clear view of the library and study doors. He saw Francois-Baptiste come out first and go into the study, followed moments later by Marie-Cecile. Will waited until the door shut, then immediately emerged from the cupboard and ran across the hall to the library.
“Alice” he whispered. “Quick. We’ve got to get you out of here.” There was a slight sound, then she appeared. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “This is all it. Are you okay?”
She nodded, although she was deathly pale.
Will reached for her hand, but she refused to come with him.
“What is this all about, Will? You live here. You know these people and yet you’re prepared to throw it all away helping a stranger. It makes no sense.”
He wanted to say she wasn’t a stranger, but stopped himself.
“I…”
He didn’t know what to say. The room seemed to fade to nothing. All Will saw was Alice’s heart-shaped face and her unflinching brown eyes that seemed to be looking into the very heart of him.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you… that you and she…? That you lived here.”
He couldn’t meet her gaze. Alice stared at him a moment longer, then moved quickly across the room and out into the hall, leaving him to follow.
“What are you going to do now?” he said desperately.
“Well, I’ve learned how Shelagh’s connected with this house,” she said.
“She works for them.”
“Them?” he said, baffled, opening the front door so they could slip out. What do you mean?“
“But she’s not here. Madame de l’Oradore and her son are looking for her too. From what I heard, I’d guess she’s being held somewhere near Foix.”
Alice suddenly turned in a panic at the bottom of the steps.
“Will, I’ve left my bag in the library,” she said in horror. “Behind the sofa, with the book.”
More than anything, Will wanted to kiss her. The timing couldn’t be worse, they were caught up in a situation he didn’t understand, Alice didn’t even really trust him. And yet it felt right.
Without thinking, Will moved to touch the side of her face. He felt he knew exactly how smooth and cool her skin would feel, as if it was a gesture he’d made a thousand times before. Then the memory of the way she’d withdrawn from him in the cafe pulled him up short and he stopped, his hand a hair’s breadth from her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he started to say, as if Alice could read his mind. She was staring at him, then a brief smile flickered across her taut and anxious face.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he stumbled. “It’s…”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, but her voice was soft.
Will gave a sigh of relief. He knew she was wrong. It mattered more than anything in the world, but at least she wasn’t angry with him.
“Will,” she said, a little sharper this time. “My bag? It’s got everything in it. All my notes.”
“Sure, yes,” he said immediately. “Sorry. I’ll get it. Bring it to you.” He tried to focus. “Where are you staying?”
“Hotel Petit Monarque. On the Place des Epars.”
“Right,” he said, running back up the steps. “Give me thirty minutes.”
Will watched her until she was out of sight, then went back inside. There was a sliver of light showing under the study door.
Suddenly the door to the study opened. Will sprang back out of sight between the door and the wall. Francois-Baptiste came out and walked towards the kitchen. Will heard the pass door swing open and shut, then nothing.
Will pressed his face to the gap so he could see Marie-Cecile. She was sitting at her desk looking at something, something that glinted and caught the light when she moved.
Will forgot what he was supposed to be doing as he watched Marie Cecile stand up and lift down one of the paintings hanging on the wall behind her. It was her favourite piece of art. She told him all about it once, in the early days. It was a golden canvas with splashes of bright colour showing French soldiers gazing upon the toppled pillars and palaces of ancient Egypt. “On Gazing Upon the Sands of Time – 1799‘, he remembered. That was it.
Behind where the picture had been hanging was a small black metal door cut into the wall with an electronic keypad next to it. She punched six numbers. There was a sharp click and the door opened. From out of the safe, she lifted two black packages and carefully put them on the desk. Will adjusted his position, desperate to see what was inside.
He was so caught up that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming up find him.
“Don’t move.”
“Francois-Baptiste, I-”
Will felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing into his side.
“And put your hands where I can see them.”
He tried to turn round, but Francois-Baptiste grabbed his neck and led his face flat against the wall.
“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” Marie-Cecile called out. Francois-Baptiste jabbed him again.
“Je m’en occupe,” he said. Everything’s under control
Alice looked at her watch again.
He’s not coming.
She was standing in the reception of the hotel, staring at the glass doors as if she could conjure Will out of thin air. Nearly an hour had passed since she’d left rue du Cheval Blanc. She didn’t know what to do.
Her purse, her phone, car keys were all in her jacket pocket. Everything else was in her rucksack.
It doesn’t matter. Get away from here.
The longer she waited, the more she started to doubt Will’s motives.
The fact he’d appeared out of nowhere. Alice went over the sequence of events in her mind.
Was it really just coincidence they’d bumped into each other like that?
She’d told no one at all where she was going.
2›Then why hasn’t he come? 2›
At half-past eight, Alice decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She explained she wouldn’t need the room after all, scribbled a note for Will in case he came, giving her number, then went.
She threw the jacket on the car’s front seat and noticed the envelope sticking out of the pocket. The letter she’d been given at the hotel, which she’d forgotten all about. Alice pulled it out and put it on the dashboard to read when she stopped for a break.
Night fell as she drove south. The headlamps of the oncoming cars shone in her eyes, dazzling her. Trees and bushes leaped ghost-like out of the darkness. Orleans, Poitiers, Bordeaux, the signs flashed by.
Cocooned in her own world, for hour after hour, Alice asked herself the same questions over and again. Each time, she came up with a different answer.
Why? For information. She’d certainly handed that to them all right. All her notes, her drawings, the photograph of Grace and Baillard.
He promised to show you the labyrinth chamber.
She’d seen nothing. Just a picture in a book. Alice shook her head. She didn’t want to believe it.
Why did he help her get away? Because he’d got what he wanted; rather, what Madame de l’Oradore wanted.
So they can follow you.
CHAPTER 56
Carcassona
AGOST 1209
The French attacked Sant-Vicens at dawn on Monday the third of August.
Alais scrambled up the ladders of the Tour du Major to join her father to watch from the battlements. She looked for Guilhem in the crowd, but could not see him.
Now, over the sound of sword and battle cry of the soldiers storming low defensive walls, she could just make out the sound of singing floating across the plain down from the Graveta hill.
2›“Vent creator spiritus 2›
Mentes tuorum visita!“
“The priests,” Alais said aghast. “They sing to God as they come to slaughter us.”