Geoffrey took the lead and they bolted forward, leaping over the brother who writhed in pain.
They turned the corner and kept moving.
Footsteps could be heard behind them.
'I hope you know what you're doing,' he said to Geoffrey.
They rounded another neck in the passageway. Geoffrey stopped at a partially open door and they slipped inside, closing it gently behind them. A second later men ran past, their footfalls fading.
'The route ends at the gymnasium. It won't take them long to see we're not there,' he said.
They slipped back out, breathless with excitement, and headed toward the gym, but instead of heading right at an intersection they went left, toward the dining hall.
He was wondering why the gunshots had not aroused more brothers. But the music in the chapel was always loud, making it hard to hear anything beyond the walls. Still, if de Roquefort expected him to flee, it would be reasonable to assume that more brothers were waiting around the abbey.
The long tables and benches in the dining hall were empty. Smells of stewed tomatoes and okra wafted from the kitchen. In the speaker's niche carved three feet up one wall, a robed brother stood, rifle in hand.
The seneschal dove under a table, using his knapsack for cushion, and Geoffrey sought refuge beneath another table.
A bullet burrowed into the thick oak top.
Geoffrey scampered out and ticked off two shots, one of which found the attacker. The man in the alcove teetered, then dropped to the floor.
'You kill him?' the seneschal asked.
'I hope not. I think I got his shoulder.'
'This is getting out of hand.'
'Too late now.'
They came to their feet. Men bolted from the kitchen, all dressed in food-stained aprons. The cooking staff. Not a threat.
'Back inside, now,' the seneschal screamed, and none disobeyed.
'Seneschal,' Geoffrey said, anticipation in his tone.
'Lead on.'
They left the dining hall through another passageway. Voices were heard behind them, accompanied by the rapid sound of leather soles slapping stone. The shooting of two brothers would motivate even the meekest among their pursuers. The seneschal was angry that he'd fallen into the snare de Roquefort had laid for him. Any credibility he once possessed had vanished. No one would follow him any longer, and he cursed his foolishness.
They entered the dormitory wing. A door at the far end of the corridor was closed. Geoffrey ran ahead and tested the latch. Locked.
'Seems our options are limited,' the seneschal said.
'Come,' Geoffrey said.
They sprinted into the dormitory, a large oblong chamber with bunk beds standing perpendicular, in military style, beneath a row of lancet windows.
A shout came from the hallway. More voices. Excited. People were headed their way.
'There's no other way out of here,' he said.
They stood halfway down the row of empty beds. Behind them was the entrance, about to be filled with adversaries. Ahead, lavatories.
'Into the bathrooms,' he said. 'Let's hope they move on.'
Geoffrey ran to the far end where two doors led into separate facilities. 'In here.'
'No. Let's split up. You go into one. Hide in a stall and stand on a toilet. I'll take the other. If we're quiet, we might get lucky. Besides-' He hesitated, not liking the reality. '-it's our only play.'
DE ROQUEFORT EXAMINED THE BULLET WOUND. THE MAN'S shoulder was bleeding, the brother in agony, but he was showing remarkable control, fighting hard not to go into shock. He'd stationed the shooter in the dining hall thinking the seneschal might eventually make his way there. And he'd been right. What he'd underestimated was his opponents' resolve. Brothers took an oath never to harm another brother. He'd thought the seneschal enough of an idealist that he'd stay true to that oath. Yet two men were now headed to the infirmary. He hoped neither would have to be taken to the hospital in Perpignan or Mont Louis. That might lead to questions. The abbey's healer was a qualified surgeon and possessed a well-equipped operating room, one that had been used many times in years past, but there were limits to its effectiveness.
'Take him to the physician and tell him to mend them here,' he ordered a lieutenant. He checked his watch. Forty minutes before prayers at Sext ended.
Another brother approached. 'The door at the far end, beyond the dorm entrance, is still locked, as you ordered.'
He knew they'd not come back through the dining hall. The wounded brother had made no such report. Which left only one alternative. He reached for the man's revolver.
'Stay here. Allow no one to pass. I'll handle this myself.'
THE SENESCHAL ENTERED THE BRIGHTLY LIT BATHROOM. ROWS OF toilet stalls, urinals, and stainless-steel sinks encased by marble counters filled the space. He heard Geoffrey in the adjacent room, positioning himself in a stall. He stood rigid and tried to calm his nerves. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He snatched a few deep breaths then turned back and grasped the door handle, easing it open half an inch and peering through the crack.
The dormitory was still empty.
Perhaps the search had moved on. The abbey was lined like an ant mound with corridors. All they would need was a few precious minutes to make an escape. He cursed himself again for weakness. His years of careful thought and deliberate intent had all been wasted. He was now a fugitive with more than four hundred brothers about to be his enemy. I simply respect the power of our adversaries. That's what he'd told his master just a day ago. He shook his head. Some respect he'd shown. So far, he'd done nothing smart.
The door leading from the dormitory swung open and Raymond de Roquefort stepped inside.
His adversary locked the ponderous bolt on the door.
Any hope the seneschal may have possessed vanished.
The showdown was to be here and now.
De Roquefort held a revolver and studied the room, surely wondering where his prey might be. They'd not fooled him. But the seneschal had no intention of risking Geoffrey's life. He needed to draw his pursuer's attention. So he released his grip on the handle and allowed the door to close with a soft thud.
DE ROQUEFORT CAUGHT A FRACTION OF MOVEMENT AND HEARD the sound of a door, hydraulically hinged, gently nudge a metal frame. His gaze shot to the back of the dormitory and one of the lavatory doors.
He'd been right.
They were here.
Time to end this problem.
THE SENESCHAL SURVEYED THE BATHROOM. FLUORESCENT LIGHT illuminated everything in a daylight glow. A long wall mirror above the sink counter made the room appear even larger. The floor was tile, the toilets separated by marble partitions. Everything had been built with care and designed to last.
He ducked into the second stall and closed the swinging door. He hopped onto the toilet and folded himself over the partition until he could close and lock the doors to the first and third stalls. He then shrunk back, still standing on the toilet, and hoped de Roquefort took the bait.
He needed something to draw attention. So he freed the toilet paper from its holder.
Air rushed out as the bathroom's door swung open.
Soles swept across the floor.
He stood on the toilet, gun in hand, and told himself to breathe slow.
