Geoffrey's tone was strangely buoyant.
The door remained open and he could see the two guards standing outside.
'I brought them some drink, too,' Geoffrey said, motioning outside.
'You're in a generous mood today.'
'Jesus said the first aspect of the Word is faith, the second is love, the third is good works, and from these come life.'
He smiled. 'That's right, my friend.' He kept his tone lively for the two pairs of ears just a few feet away.
'Are you well?' Geoffrey asked.
'As well as can be expected.' He accepted the tray and laid it on the desk.
'I have prayed for you, Seneschal.'
'I daresay that I no longer possess that title. Surely, a new one was appointed by de Roquefort.'
Geoffrey nodded. 'His chief lieutenant.'
'Woe be unto us-'
He saw one of the men outside the door collapse. A second later, the other man's body went limp and joined his partner's on the floor. Two goblets clattered across the flagstones.
'Took long enough,' Geoffrey said.
'What did you do?'
'A sedative. The physician provided it to me. Tasteless, odorless, but fast. The healer is our friend. He wishes you Godspeed. Now we must go. The master made provisions, and it's my duty to see they're accomplished.'
Geoffrey reached beneath his frock and produced two pistols. 'The armory attendant is our friend, too. We may need these.'
The seneschal was trained in firearms, all part of the basic education every brother received. He grabbed the weapon. 'We're leaving the abbey?'
Geoffrey nodded. 'It is required to accomplish our task.'
'Our task.'
'Yes, Seneschal. I've been training for this a long time.'
He heard the eagerness and, though he was almost ten years older than Geoffrey, he suddenly felt inadequate. This supposed junior brother was far more than he appeared. 'As I said yesterday, the master chose well in you.'
Geoffrey smiled. 'I think he did in both of us.'
He found a knapsack and quickly stuffed a few toiletries, some personal items, and the two books he'd taken from the library inside. 'I have no other clothes but for a cassock.'
'We can buy some once we're gone.'
'You have money?
'The master was a thorough man.'
Geoffrey crept to the doorway and checked both ways. 'The brothers will all be in Sext. The way out should be clear.'
Before following Geoffrey into the hall, the seneschal took one last look around his quarters. Some of the best times of his life had been spent here, and he was sad to leave those memories behind. But another part of his psyche urged him forward, to the unknown, outside, toward whatever truth the master so obviously knew.
TWENTY-SEVEN
12:30 PM
MALONE STUDIED ROYCE CLARIDON. THE MAN WAS DRESSED IN loose-fitting corduroy trousers smeared with what looked like turquoise paint. A colorful sports jersey covered the man's thin chest. He was probably in his late fifties, gangly as a praying mantis, with a comely face full of tight features. Dark eyes were sunk deep into his head, no longer bright with the power of intellect, but nonetheless piercing. His feet were bare and dirty, his fingernails unkempt, his graying hair and beard tangled. The attendant had warned them that Claridon was delusional but generally harmless, and almost everyone at the institution avoided him.
'Who be you?' Claridon asked in French, appraising them with a distant, perplexed gaze.
The sanatorium filled an enormous chateau that a placard out front announced had been owned by the French government since the Revolution. Wings jutted from the main building at odd angles. Many of the former salons were now converted into patient rooms. They stood in a solarium, surrounded by a broad embrasure of floor-to- ceiling windows that framed out the countryside. Gathering clouds veiled the midday sun. One of the attendants had said Claridon spent most of his days here.
'Are you from the commandery?' Claridon asked. 'Did the master send you? I have much information to pass to him.'
Malone decided to play along. 'We are from the master. He sent us to speak with you.'
'Ah, finally. I have been waiting so long.' The words carried excitement.
Malone motioned and Stephanie backed off. This man obviously thought himself a Templar and women were not part of that brotherhood. 'Tell me, brother, what have you to say. Tell me all.'
Claridon fidgeted in his chair, then sprang to his feet, shifting his spare frame back and forth on bare feet. 'Awful,' he said. 'So awful. We were surrounded on all quarters. Enemies as far as the eye could see. We were down to our last few arrows, the food spoiled from heat, the water gone. Many had succumbed to disease. None of us was going to live long.'
'Sounds a challenge. What did you do?'
'The strangest thing we saw. A white banner was raised from beyond the walls. We all stared at one another- saying with our puzzled expressions the words each of us was thinking. They want to talk. '
Malone knew his medieval history. Parlays were common during the Crusades. Armies in a stalemate would many times work out terms whereby each could retreat and both claim victory.
'Did you gather?' Malone asked.
The older man nodded and held up four soiled fingers. 'Each time we rode from the wall, out among their horde, they received us warmly and the discussions were not without progress. In the end, we came to terms.'
'So tell me. What is your message the master needs to know?'
Claridon offered a look of annoyance. 'You're an insolent one.'
'What do you mean? I have much respect for you, brother. That's why I'm here. Brother Lars Nelle told me you were a man to be trusted.'
The inquiry seemed to tax the older man's brain. Then recognition came to Claridon's face. 'I recall him. A courageous warrior. Fought with much honor. Yes. Yes. I do recall him. Brother Lars Nelle. God rest his soul.'
'Why do you say that?'
'You haven't heard?' There was incredulousness in the tone. 'He died in battle.'
'Where?'
Claridon shook his head. 'That I don't know, only that he now dwells with the Lord. We said a mass for him and offered many prayers.'
'Did you break bread with brother Nelle?'
'Many times.'
'He ever speak of his quest?'
Claridon moved to his right, but kept his gaze on Malone. 'Why do you ask that of me?'
The fidgety little man started to circle him, like a cat. He decided to up the ante in whatever game the man's loose mind envisioned. He grabbed Claridon by the jersey, lifting the wiry little man off the floor. Stephanie took a
