step forward, but he urged her back with a quick glance.
'The master is displeased,' he said. 'Most displeased.'
'In what way?' Claridon's face was suffused with a deep blush of shame.
'With you.'
'I've done nothing.'
'You will not answer my question.'
'What is it you wish?' More astonishment.
'Tell me of brother Nelle's quest.'
Claridon shook his head. 'I know nothing. The brother did not confide in me.'
Fear crept into the eyes staring back at him, accented by utter confusion. He released his grip. Claridon shrank away toward the glass wall and snatched up a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle. He doused the panes and began cleaning glass that displayed not a speck of anything.
He turned to Stephanie. 'We're wasting our time here.'
'What tipped you off?'
'I had to try.' He recalled the note sent to Ernst Scoville and decided to make one last attempt. He fished the paper from his pocket and approached Claridon. Beyond the glass, a few miles west, rose the pale gray walls of Villeneuve-les-Avignon.
'The cardinals live there,' Claridon said, never stopping his cleaning. 'Insolent princes, all of them.'
Malone knew that cardinals once flocked to the hills outside Avignon's town walls and erected country retreats as a way to escape the town's congestion and the pope's constant eye. Those livrees were all gone, but the ancient city remained, still quiet, countrified and crumbling.
'We are the cardinals' protectors,' Malone said, keeping up the pretence.
Claridon spat on the floor. 'The pox to them all.'
'Read this.'
The little man took the paper and raked his gaze over the words. A look of astonishment filled the man's wide eyes. 'I've stolen nothing from the Order. That I swear.' The voice was rising. 'This accusation is false. I would gladly pledge an oath to my God. I've stolen nothing.'
The man was seeing on the page only what he wanted. Malone took back the paper.
'This is a waste of time, Cotton,' Stephanie said.
Claridon drew close to him. 'Who is this vixen? Why is she here?'
He nearly smiled. 'She is brother Nelle's widow.'
'I was not aware that the brother had been married.'
He recalled some of what he'd read from the Templar book two nights before. 'As you know, many brothers were once married. But she was an unfaithful one, so the bond was dissolved and she was banished to a convent.'
Claridon shook his head. 'She looks difficult. What is she doing here?'
'She seeks the truth about her husband.'
Claridon faced Stephanie and pointed with one of his stubby fingers. 'You are evil,' the man shouted. 'Brother Nelle sought penance with the brotherhood because of your sins. Shame on you.'
Stephanie had the good sense to simply bow her head. 'I seek nothing but forgiveness.'
Claridon's face softened at her humility. 'And you shall have mine, sister. Go in peace.'
Malone motioned and they headed for the door. Claridon retreated to his chair.
'So sad,' she said. 'And frightening. Losing one's mind is terrifying. Lars often spoke of the malady and feared it.'
'Don't we all.' He was still holding the note found at Ernst Scoville's house. He looked at the writing again and read the last three lines:
In Avignon find Claridan. He can point the way. But prend garde l'Ingenieur 'I wonder why the sender thought Claridon could point the way to anywhere?' he asked. 'We have zero to go on. This trail may be at a dead end.'
'Not true.'
The words were spoken in English and came from across the solarium.
Malone turned as Royce Claridon stood from the chair. All confusion was gone from the man's bearded face. 'I can provide that direction. And the advice given in that note should be heeded. You must beware the engineer. She, and others, are the reason I'm hiding here.'
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE SENESCHAL FOLLOWED GEOFFREY THROUGH THE WARREN OF vaulted corridors. He hoped Geoffrey's assessment was correct and that all of the brothers were in the chapel for noontime prayers.
So far they'd seen no one.
They made their way to the palais that housed the upper hall, administrative offices, and public rooms. When, in times past, the abbey had been sealed from outside contact, no one not of the Order was allowed beyond its ground-floor entrance hall. But when tourism blossomed in the twentieth century, as other abbeys opened their doors, so as not to arouse suspicions the Abbey des Fontaines followed suit, offering visits and informational sessions, many of which occurred in the palais.
They entered the expansive foyer. Windows filled with coarse greenish glass cast dull shafts of sunlight onto a checkered tile floor. A mammoth wooden crucifix dominated one wall, a tapestry another.
At the entrance to another passageway, a hundred feet across the lofty expanse, stood Raymond de Roquefort, five brothers behind him, all armed with handguns.
'Leaving?' de Roquefort asked.
The seneschal froze, but Geoffrey raised his weapon and fired twice. The men on the other side dove for the floor as bullets pinged off the wall.
'That way,' Geoffrey said, motioning left to another passageway.
Two shots screamed past them.
Geoffrey sent another bullet across the foyer and they assumed a defensive position just inside the corridor, near a parlor where merchants once brought their wares for display.
'All right,' de Roquefort called out. 'You have my attention. Is bloodshed necessary?'
'That's entirely up to you,' the seneschal said.
'I thought your oath was precious. Is it not your duty to obey your master? I commanded you to stay in your quarters.'
'Did you? I forgot that part.'
'Interesting how one set of rules apply to you, and another governs the rest of us. Even so, can we not be reasonable?'
He wondered about the show of civility. 'What do you propose?'
'I assumed you would attempt an escape. Sext seemed the best time, so I was waiting. You see, I know you well. Your ally, though, surprises me. There is courage and loyalty there. I would like you both to join my cause.'
'And do what?'
'Help us reclaim our destiny, instead of hindering the effort.'
Something was wrong. De Roquefort was posturing. Then it hit him. To buy time.
He whirled around.
An armed man rounded the corner, fifty feet away. Geoffrey saw him, too. The seneschal fired one shot into the lower part of the man's cassock. He heard the smack of metal tearing flesh and a shriek as the man dropped to the flagstones. May God forgive him. Rule forbid the harming of another Christian. But there was no choice. He had to escape this prison.
'Come on,' he said.
