When he moved she felt a shudder in the air, as if a gust of wind had swept in through the open door; but the candles did not so much as quiver. At the same time, she smelled the fresh, clean scent of the heathered hills after a storm has passed.
'Do not be afraid,' said the man, his voice calm and low. 'I merely wish to speak to you.'
Cait glanced nervously beyond him to where the Templar and his companions sat at their wine.
'Blind guides,' he said, indicating the men. 'They have neither eyes to see, nor ears to hear.'
'Who are you?' As she asked the question, she glanced again at de Bracineaux and his companions; now laughing heartily, they appeared oblivious to both her and the stranger.
'Call me Brother Andrew,' he said.
At the name, Cait felt her throat tighten. She gulped down a breath of air. 1 know about you,' she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. 'My father told me.'
'Your family has been in my service for a long time. That is why I have come-to ask if you will renew the vow of your father and grandfather.'
'What vow is that?'
'I asked young Murdo to build me a kingdom where my sheep could safely graze…'
'Build it far, far away from the ambitions of small-souled men and their ceaseless striving' Cait said, repeating the words she had learned as a child on her grandfather's knee. 'Make it a kingdom where the True Path can be followed in peace and the Holy Light can shine as a beacon flame in the night.'
He smiled. 'There, you see? You do know it.'
'He did that. He built you a kingdom,' she said bluntly, 'and died an old man – waiting for you to come as you promised.'
'Truly, his faith has been rewarded a thousandfold.' the White Priest told her. 'But now it is your turn. In each generation the vow must be renewed. I ask you, sister, will you serve me?'
At the question, Cait felt a hardness rise up in her, like a rock in her chest. She hesitated and looked away, not daring to meet the White Priest's commanding gaze,
'Caitriona/ chided Brother Andrew gently, 'I know what is in your heart.'
When she did not answer, the monk shook his head sadly and moved a step closer. 'Thus says the Lord of Hosts: "As surely as I live for ever, when 1 sharpen my fiery sword and my hand grasps it in judgement, I will take vengeance on my enemies and repay those who hate me."'
She set her jaw and clung to her silence.
'I ask you, sister, do you believe that the Great King is able to perform justice for his servants?'
Her answer was quick and biting. 'If his justice is as ready as his protection, his servants had better sleep with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other.'
'His ways are not our ways. Whatever misfortune befalls one of his own, the Allwise Creator is able to bend it to his will. He will not suffer evil to prevail,' he replied.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she was determined not to be swayed by anything he said. 'And yet it does prevail.'
'Look at me, Caitriona,' the monk commanded. She raised her eyes slowly. He was watching her with an intensity which burned across the distance between them. 'I ask but once more: will you serve me?'
Both her father and her grandfather had stood before the White Priest, and both had answered his call. How could she do less?
'I will,' she replied at last.
'Then put aside your wrath, and believe. For it is written: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says the Lord. In due time their foot will slip; the day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them." Behold,' he said, pointing to the table behind her, 'this is the work I am giving you. When it is finished, you shall receive the desires of your heart.'
She turned to look where he was pointing and saw a parchment document-a formal-looking communication in Latin. The image on the broken seal looked regal, and the signature at the bottom of the document was in red ink-as were the words Rosa Mystica.
Cait picked up the letter and turned to ask what it was the White Priest wanted her to do. But he was gone, and she was alone once more. She looked at the letter in her hand, but before she could read any of it, de Bracineaux shouted from the other room. 'Here! You! Get away from there!1
'For the love of God, de Bracineaux, leave the wench be,' said d'Anjou.
'I will see her off,' said Gislebert. He rose from the table and lumbered in from the balcony.
Taking up the tray once more, Cait whipped the folded parchment out of sight beneath it. She turned and made a slight bow towards the men, then bolted from the room. Gislebert watched her go, and then moved to the door, closing it firmly after her.
She stepped out into the corridor once more. Alethea was hovering in the passageway, wringing her hands and looking as if she had swallowed a mouse. 'Are you all right?' she asked as Cait emerged from the chamber.
'No thanks to you,' snapped Cait. 'You were supposed to warn me.'
'He surprised me.'
'Yes, he surprised me too.'
'Now you are angry,' pouted Alethea. 'He came up behind me and caught me lingering by the door and told me to get about my business. What could I do?'
They moved quickly off along the corridor. Returning to the vestibule, Cait laid the tray aside and, while Thea kept watch, drew on her mantle once more and tucked the parchment away; then the two women descended the stairs and retraced their steps outside where, as arranged, the chair and bearers were still waiting. They climbed into the chair, and Cait instructed Philippianous to take them to the Bucoleon Harbour.
'Well?' demanded Alethea, as they passed through the gate and back into the street once more. 'What happened? Did you see him?'
'I saw him,' muttered Cait.
'Well, what did he say?'
'Nothing.'
'You were in there a long time. He must have said something,' insisted Alethea.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cait caught Philippianous leaning towards them so as to overhear their discussion. 'Not now,' Cait told her sister. 'Later,'
'I want to hear it now.'
'Shut up, you stupid girl,' Cait blurted, changing to Gaelic. 'They are listening to us.'
'All very well for you,' squeaked Alethea indignantly, 'Lady Caitriona gets to do whatever she likes, while I have to be her dutiful slave.'
Cait turned away from her sister and watched the activity in the streets instead. Fires bright in iron braziers and countless oil lamps illumined the night with a garish glow. In some of the broader avenues, musicians played-pipe and lute, tambour and lyre-and people danced, hands upraised, stepping lightly as they spun and turned. Occasionally, an enterprising merchant would approach the passing chair and offer his wares: bangles and necklaces of coloured glass beads, pots of perfumed unguent, satin ribbons, and tiny bunches of dried flowers for the ladies' hair.
The variety and charm of the baubles distracted Alethea from her sister's stinging rebuke, and she would have stopped and bought trinkets from them all, but Cait instructed Philippianous and his bearers to move on. As they neared the seafront, the streets became quieter and darker-the houses meaner, the people more furtive, sinister. Arriving at the harbour, however, the seamen and sailors drinking wine and playing dice on the wharf gave the quayside a less threatening atmosphere.
More than one lonely seafarer licked his lips hopefully as the two women stepped from the chair. One or two of the younger men called to them, offering wine and an evening's entertainment. 'As agreed,' said Cait, dropping a stack of small silver coins into Philippianous' outstretched hand. 'And, as promised, a little extra for your trouble.' She dropped a few more coins into his hand.