But what cup?“ the Count asked pointedly. There was silence except for the sound of rain and the crackle of logs, then the friar looked again at the contract, pushed back his chair and went to the Count's shelves. He took down a great chained book that he placed carefully on the lectern, unclasped the cover and opened the huge, stiff pages. What book is that?” the Count enquired.
The annals of Saint Joseph's monastery,“ Father Roubert said. He turned the pages, seeking an entry. We know,” he went on, that the last Count of Astarac was infected with the Cathar heresy. It's said that his father sent him to be a squire to a knight in Carcassonne and thus he became a sinner. He eventually inherited Astarac and lent his support to the heretics, and we know he was among the last of the Cathar lords.“ He paused to turn another page. Ah! Here it is. Montsegur fell on Saint Joevin's day in the twenty-second year of the reign of Raymond VII.” Raymond had been the last great Count of Youlouse, dead now almost a hundred years. Father Roubert thought for a second. That would mean Montsegur fell in 1244.'
The Count leaned over the table and picked up the contract. He peered at it and found what he wanted. And this is dated the eve of Saint Nazarius of the same year. Saint Nazarius's feast is at the end of July, yes?'
It is,' Father Roubert confirmed.
And Saint Joevin's day is in March,“ the Count said, which proves that the Count of Astarac didn't die in Montsegur.” Someone ordered the Latin carved,“ the Dominican allowed. Maybe it was his son?” He turned the big pages of the annals, flinching at the crudely illuminated capitals, until he found the entry he wanted. And in the year of our Count's death, when there was a great plague of toads and vipers, “ he read aloud, the Count of Berat took Astarac and slew all that were inside.” But the annals do not say that Astarac himself died?“ No.”
So what if he lived?“ The Count was excited now and had left his chair to start pacing up and down. And why would he desert his comrades in Montsegur?”
If he did. Father Roubert sounded dubious.
Someone did. Someone with authority to hire a mason. Someone who wanted to leave a message in stone. Someone who
. . The Count suddenly stopped. Why would they describe the date as the eve of Saint Nazarius's feast?' he asked. Why not?
Because that is Saint Pantaleon's day, why not call it that?' Because. Father Roubert was about to explain that Saint Nazarius was a good deal better known than Saint Pantaleon, but the Count interrupted him.
Because it is the Seven Sleepers“ Day! There were seven of them, Roubert! Seven survivors! And they wanted the date inscribed to make that obvious!”
The friar thought the Count was stretching the evidence exceed ingly thin, but he said nothing. And think of the story!“ The Count urged him. Seven young men under threat of persecution, yes? They flee the city, which was it? Ephesus, of course, and hide in a cave! The Emperor, Decius wasn't it? I'm sure it was, and he ordered every cave sealed and years later, over a hundred years later if I remember rightly, the seven young men are found there, and not one of them has aged a day. So seven men, Roubert, fled Montsegur!”
Father Roubert replaced the annals. But a year later. he pointed out, your ancestor defeated them.
They could have survived. the Count insisted, and everyone knows that members of the Vexille family fled. Of course they survived! But think, Roubert. he was unconsciously calling the Dominican by his childhood name, why would a Cathar lord leave the last stronghold if it not to take the heretics“ treasures to safety? Everyone knows the Cathars possessed great treasures!” Father Roubert tried not to get caught up in the Count's excite ment. The family. he said, would have taken the treasures with them.'
Would they?' the Count demanded. There are seven of them. They go their different ways. Some to Spain, others to northern France, one at least to England. Suppose you are hunted, wanted by the Church and by every great lord. Would you take a great treasure with you? Would you risk that it falls into your enemies'
hands? Why not hide it and hope that one day whoever of the seven survives can return to recover it?'
The evidence was now stretched impossibly thin and Father Roubert shook his head. If there was treasure in Astarac. he said, it would have been found long ago.'
But the Cardinal Archbishop is looking for it. the Count said. Why else does he want to read our archives?“ He picked up the stonemason's contract and held it over a candle so that the three Latin words and the demand to cut the date in the stone were scorched out of existence. He stamped his fist on the charred, glowing edge to extinguish the fire, then put the damaged parch ment into the basket of documents that would be given to the monk. What I should do. he said, is go to Astarac.” Father Roubert looked alarmed at such hot-headedness. It is wild country, my lord. he warned, infested with coredors. And not that many miles from the English in Castillon d'Arbizon.“ Then I shall take some men-at-arms.” The Count was excited now. If the Grail was in his domain then it made sense that God had placed the curse of barrenness on his wives as a punishment for failing to search for the treasure. So he would put it right. You can come with me. he told Father Roubert, and I'll leave Sir Henri, the crossbowmen and most of the men-at-arms to defend the town.'
And your nephew?'
Oh, I'll take him with me! He can command my escort. It will give him the illusion that he's useful.“ The Count frowned. Isn't Saint Sever's near Astarac?”
Very close.'
I'm sure Abbot Planchard will give us accommodation. the Count said, and he's a man who might very well help us!' Father Roubert thought Abbot Planchard was more likely to tell the Count he was an old fool, but he could see that the Count was caught up in the enthusiasm. Doubtless he believed that if he found the Grail then God would reward him with a son, and perhaps he was right? And perhaps the Grail needed to be found to put the whole world right, and so the friar fell to his knees in the great hall and prayed the God would bless the Count, kill the heretic and reveal the Grail.
At Astarac.
Thomas and his men left Astarac in the early afternoon, riding horses that were weighed down with cuts of meat, cooking pots, anything at all that was of value and that could be sold in Castillon d'Arbizon's marketplace. Thomas kept looking back, wondering why he felt nothing for this place, but also knowing he would be back. There were secrets in Astarac and he must unlock them.
Robbie alone rode a horse that was not encumbered with plunder. He had been the last to join the raiders, coming from the monastery with a strangely contented expression. He offered no explanation for his lateness, nor why he had spared the Cistercians. He just nodded at Thomas and fell into the column as it started westwards.
They would be late home. It would probably be dark, but Thomas was not concerned. The coredors would not attack, and if the Count of Berat had sent forces to intercept their homeward journey then they should see those pursuers from the ridge tops and so he rode without worries, leaving behind misery and smoke in a shattered village.
So did you find what you were looking for?' Sir Guillaume asked.
No.'
Sir Guillaume laughed. A fine Sir Galahad you are!“ He glanced at the things hanging from Thomas's saddle. You go for the Holy Grail and come back with a heap of goatskins and a haunch of mutton.”
That'll roast well with vinegar sauce,“ Thomas said. Sir Guillaume looked behind to see a dozen coredors had followed them up onto the ridge. We're going to have to teach those bastards a lesson.”
We will. Thomas said, we will.'
There were no men-at-arms waiting to ambush them. Their only delay occurred when a horse went lame, but it was nothing more than a stone caught in its hoof. The coredors vanished as the dusk approached. Robbie was again riding in the vanguard, but when they were halfway home and the sun was a sinking red ball before them, he turned back and fell in beside Thomas. Genevieve was off to one side and she pointedly moved her mare farther away, but if Robbie noticed he made no comment. He glanced at the goatskins draped behind Thomas's saddle. My father once had a cloak of horseskin. he said by way of breaking the silence that had lasted too long between them, and then, without adding any more details of his father's curious taste in clothing, he looked embarrassed. I've been thinking,' he said.
A dangerous occupation,“ Thomas answered lightly. Lord Outhwaite let me come with you,” Robbie said, but would he mind if I left you?'
