Trail of Fate

reappeared with two cups and poured wine from the jug, and Maryam’s eyes went wide.

“Tristan,” she whispered. “I’m forbidden to drink wine.”

“Give me a minute. I’ll try to distract her somehow,” I said.

The woman stood a few paces away, watching us. I lifted my mug and raised it in her direction.

“Croises!” I said, letting her know we were Crusaders. Perhaps I could win us some points by appealing to the woman’s sense of Christian duty. She smiled and nodded, then left for the back room again. I drank down a large gulp of wine and quickly poured what was in Maryam’s cup into my own. A few seconds later the woman emerged with a small wheel of cheese, setting it on the table before us.

My mouth watered at the sight of it, and I took a proffered slice. I placed it on a slice of bread and bit into it. What a delight. After many days of nothing but dates, grapes and figs, and whatever we could scrounge up, it tasted wonderful.

A familiar barking sounded from just outside the door. I thought Angel might have smelled the food and was hungry herself. Wearily I rose to my feet and took a small chunk of cheese. I was about to open the door when she growled, and I froze. I then stepped to the dirty window and peered out at the crossroads.

The High Counsel and his fifty men rode into the village, reining their horses up at the well. Angel whined, and I cracked open the door. She darted inside.

“Trouble,” I said to Maryam. She joined me at the window and gasped.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

By then the woman had joined us at the window. She looked out at the High Counsel and his troop, some of whom had dismounted and were standing about looking menacing. The arrival had cleared the village, as the women we had seen earlier at the well had vanished and the blacksmith had made himself scarce.

The woman muttered something in French under her breath that I didn’t quite catch but was fairly certain was a curse. She vanished behind the curtain.

“It looks like the High Counsel has uncovered my deception. They must be headed toward Celia’s fortress. We need to get out of here. I don’t suppose you have any ideas, do you?” I asked.

Maryam shook her head and continued to study the scene at the well. “No. You’re the one with the ideas,” she said smugly.

Angel whined nervously, and to quiet her I tossed her the small chunk of cheese I still held in my hand. She snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.

“All right,” I said. “Maybe we can sneak out the back and. .”

Just then the woman pulled back the curtain from the back room and waved to us.

We followed and found another room, nearly equal in size to the one we’d been eating in but with a back entrance. The wooden door swung open, and there stood a boy about ten or twelve years old, waiting next to a small wagon with a pony hitched to it. The back of the wagon was full of hay.

“Hide. Go,” said the woman in accented English.

“Tristan? What is she. .?” Maryam asked, but she stopped, not understanding completely what was happening.

But I did. Or at least I thought I did. Since we had left the campsite, without really knowing how far we needed to travel to reach Celia, I’d had a feeling we were at least getting close to her lands. And judging by this woman’s reaction when she saw the High Counsel, I decided to test my assumption.

“Cathar?” I said to the woman.

She nodded and smiled. She pushed a small cloth bag into my hands, holding it open. It was full of bread, cheese and apples.

“Montsegur. Celia. Ami,” I said, pointing to myself.

The woman nodded and smiled. I felt a brief sense of relief, despite the High Counsel’s arrival. We were on the right trail and headed toward Montsegur.

“Hide. Now,” she said.

“Come on, Maryam,” I said.

I climbed up into the bed of the wagon. Maryam joined me. Angel looked at me with her head cocked.

“Hurry, girl,” I said.

She jumped up. The boy and the woman covered us with the hay. Then I heard the lad whistle and the wagon moved. We rolled around the side of the small inn and bounced over the bumpy ground. The ride smoothed out a little when we reached the trail leading out of town.

I carefully reached up and cleared a small section of hay out of the way so I could see the village crossroads as we left. The High Counsel stood there, still talking to one of his soldiers in the street. The boy kept a casual pace with the wagon, not drawing attention to himself. He was just a simple farm boy completing one of his many chores.

We were almost out of sight of the village when I heard a cracking sound and the wagon lurched to a stop. It tilted crazily to the side, and Maryam and I grunted sharply as it hit the ground. The boy muttered a curse, and I assumed the wagon’s axle had broken or the wheel had come loose. Angel whimpered, and I grabbed her about the muzzle. The hay had settled with the fall, and I gently cleared another space to look back at the village.

As I watched them in the distance, nearly two hundred yards away, the High Counsel and his men mounted up, steered their horses about and rode down the path.

They were headed straight for us.

11

The High Counsel took the head of the column and spurred his horse along the trail. The jangling sounds of swords and chain mail grew louder as the riders drew near. Then, softly, a familiar humming filled the air around me. Having heard it so many times before, I was relieved at first, but I still worried. I felt the Grail would protect me. But what about Maryam and the boy? What if the boy were forced to reveal our presence?

He wasn’t visible from my position in the hay, but I offered up a prayer that he had the good sense to remain calm and not draw attention to himself. My hand was still firmly clamped over Angel’s muzzle and she wiggled beneath my grasp. We held our breath for what seemed an eternity.

As the horses thundered toward us, she became more anxious and struggled so much that I lost my grip on her. She wormed her way out of the pile of hay and jumped off the back of the wagon, barking madly at the horses. I couldn’t see anything, but outside the wagon she put up quite a fuss. Even worse, the column reined to a stop.

Angel ceased barking, but continued to growl and whine. Maryam and I lay frozen beneath the mound of hay, and the beating of my own heart pounded in my ears, nearly drowning out the whispering hum of the Grail.

The High Counsel spoke to the boy in a gruff, commanding voice, but his words were muffled by the hay, as was the boy’s reply.

Then there was only silence. Every muscle in my body was coiled and tense as if I’d been frozen solid in a sudden winter storm. The only sounds reaching my ears were Angel’s whine and the snorts of the horses as they waited impatiently to resume their trip.

The High Counsel spoke again, but I could only hear the boy answer, “Oui.” Angel quieted. We waited and waited, and I half expected a sword or lance to come poking into the hay.

Finally he gave an order to move out. The horses sprang to life and we heard them ride off.

Dizzy and light-headed, I took slow, deep breaths while the feeling returned to my limbs. Angel jumped back up onto the wagon and dug at the hay in an attempt to uncover us. The boy knocked twice on the side of the wagon.

“La voie est libre,” he told us. All clear.

We sat up, pushing the hay out of the way. I jumped out of the wagon and vigorously shook the boy’s hand several times.

“Well done, mon ami. Well done,” I said. I wanted to thank him more profusely but wasn’t sure my French was adequate for the task.