Trail of Fate

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze traveled back to the fire, to study her people. “We are Cathars.”

She looked at me expectantly to see what effect her words had on me. But I had no idea what a Cathar was. She went on.

“We live not far from here, in the mountain towns of the Pyrenees. My father is the bishop of our canton. I think you English might call it a county. Cathars are no friends to the church. We believe in tolerance of other religions and that all the trappings of the church are. . irrelevant and only get in the way of a true connection with God. Still, despite our objections to how the church is run, we have lived in peace for many years, but now, things are different. We allow anyone to worship as they please, but your Pope has a much dimmer view of Catharism,” she said.

Having lived in a monastery most of my life, I knew the Bible somewhat, but I was no religious scholar. For a time, I had a natural curiosity about the monks and their unwavering allegiance to God. But I had never felt the pull of their devotion. I prayed. I believed. But I did not know what to say to Celia, not understanding very much of what she said.

“So because the Pope is angry with your people, you are hiding here in the woods?”

Celia laughed.

“No, Templar. We are not hiding. My father sent me to counsel with emissaries of the Archbishop of Languedoc while he travels to Paris to seek an audience with King Philip. Our message grows. We have more followers now. This upsets your Pope. The archbishop demanded our presence before him immediately. My father cares little for what the archbishop demands, but also knows he can be a powerful enemy. Since Father could not be in two places at once, he sent me to Narbonne in his stead. He wanted me to attempt to appease the archbishop if I could, but I am afraid I only managed to anger him.”

“Anger him? How?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. It may have been when I called him a fat, pretentious, overbearing cow,” she said, shrugging.

“That would do it,” I said. This was all very strange to me. At St. Alban’s the brothers managed to stay far removed from church politics. I remember a bishop visiting once when I was younger. And I remember the abbot being ill tempered for weeks after, but I couldn’t recall there ever being any other problems. Of course, I’m certain the abbot would never call the bishop a cow either. This may have had more to do with Celia’s predicament than a difference in theology.

“We were on our way home when we found you,” she went on. “The conference did not go well, especially after my outburst. The archbishop made many threats. Philippe believes he will move against us before my father can even gain an audience with the King. He may have sent soldiers after us, so Philippe is just being cautious.”

“Why do they care what you do if you bother no one?”

“You must have grown up in an abbey, to ask such an incredibly naive question. The church does as it will. It is not the kings and monarchs who rule us, but Pope Celestine III. Does not your own order answer only to him?”

“Yes. I suppose, but I. .”

“He has decided the Cathars are enemies of the church, Templar. And now we must decide what to do about it, which is why Philippe is so upset with me. He thinks we should have left you on the beach. He feels we should be well on our way to Montsegur by now instead of taking you to the nearest port.”

“Montsegur?”

“It is our fortress in the mountains. When we are threatened, we retreat there for safety. Usually whoever is upset with us at the moment lays siege, but eventually gives up and leaves. However, Philippe is certain there will be a greater threat this time. As my father’s Seneschal, he wishes to return there at once, but he swore an oath to follow my command.”

“Maybe you should listen to him. Grateful as I am to you for not hurting my friends in their misguided attempt to rescue me, we are well able to find the port on our own, and you can resume your journey.”

Celia did not have a chance to respond, for just then Philippe rode hurriedly into camp and hastily dismounted.

“On arrive!” he said.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Someone is coming,” Celia said.

6

Philippe and Celia spoke rapidly. Philippe barked orders, and his men immediately broke camp. Each ofthem spun offfrom the fire to an assigned duty.

“What is happening?” Robard asked. He and Maryam rose from the fire.

“I’m not sure. There is some kind of trouble. I think someone is after them.”

Robard looked at me in disbelief, then snorted. “What do you mean by trouble exactly?”

“What other kind of trouble do we know?” I asked.

The fire was extinguished and we were plunged into darkness. The half moon had just peeked over the horizon, and there was enough light for me to see Robard’s face.

“Just to be sure, you mean the bad-men-chasing-us-again kind?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I said apologetically.

Robard sighed. “I will say this. Since I rescued you from those bandits, you’ve never been at a shortage for excitement.”

“Tristan, what are we going to do?” Maryam asked.

“Celia and her group are being pursued by enemies of some sort. She calls herself a Cathar, whatever that means.” Robard and Maryam shrugged. “Her father is an important religious leader among her people and has made enemies of the church. An archbishop they met with in a place called Narbonne is angry with them for some reason. Philippe was convinced they were followed, and now he has spotted something.”

“Something?” Robard asked. He knew the answer. Danger was approaching.

“This is not our concern. You don’t intend to become involved in her problems, do you?” Maryam asked.

“No, I don’t plan to,” I said.

In truth, I had no idea what to do. Did I owe anything to Celia? I had my duty to the Grail to consider. If they were being pursued by a large force, their only logical choice was flight. Robard, Maryam and I could slip away into the forest and work our way toward the coast and follow it until we came upon a port.

Within minutes, the horses were saddled and nearly every sign of our camp was gone. Only a close inspection by an experienced forester would find any evidence that a camp had ever been made here.

Celia approached the three of us while her friends mounted their horses.

“Philippe says nearly fifty of the archbishop’s guards are tracking us. They are a few miles back and moving slowly, but will be on us before morning if we do not leave right away.” She looked at me expectantly.

“Then you must leave now,” I said.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“We’ll be fine; we’ll head back toward the shore and follow it west until we find a port city. Don’t worry about us,” I told her.

Celia looked down at the ground for a moment, as if struggling to speak.

“Tristan, realize this: these men following us are ruthless. They kill and maim with no provocation. If they suspect you have seen us and helped us in any way. .” She let the words hang in the air.

“We’ll be safe,” I assured her.

“How do you know. .?” She looked at me strangely, but I nodded. The Grail had kept me safe thus far. It would protect the three of us. Then, almost as if she remembered how the strange sound she had heard pulled her to me on the beach, she nodded. I hadn’t had much time to think about it, but I wondered if the Grail was pulling