Left me?' Thomas was surprised.
I'll go back to him, of course,“ Robbie said, eventually.” Eventually?' Thomas asked, suspicious. Robbie was a prisoner and his duty, if he was not with Thomas, was to go back to Lord Outhwaite in northern England and wait there until his ransom was paid.
There are things I have to do,“ Robbie explained, to put my soul straight.”
Ah. Thomas said, embarrassed himself now. He glanced at the silver crucifix on his friend's chest.
Robbie was staring at a buzzard that quartered the lower hill, looking for small game in the dying light. I was never one for religion. he said softly. None of the men in our family are. The women care, of course, but not the Douglas men. We're good soldiers and bad Christians.“ He paused, plainly uncomfortable, then shot a swift glance at Thomas. You remember that priest we killed in Brittany?”
Of course I do. Thomas said. Bernard de Taillebourg had been a Dominican friar and the Inquisitor who had tortured Thomas. The priest had also helped Guy Vexille kill Robbie's brother, and together Thomas and Robbie had chopped him down in front of an altar.
I wanted to kill him. Robbie said.
You said,“ Thomas reminded him, that there was no sin that some priest could not undamn, and that, I assume, includes killing priests.”
I was wrong,“ Robbie said. He was a priest and we shouldn't have killed him.”
He was the bastard turd of the devil,“ Thomas said vengefully. He was a man who wants what you want. Robbie said firmly, and he killed to get it, but we do the same, Thomas.” Thomas made the sign of the cross. Are you worried about my soul. he asked caustically, or yours?'
I was talking to the abbot in Astarac. Robbie said, ignoring Thomas's question, and I told him about the Dominican. He said I'd done a dreadful thing and that my name was on the devil's list.“ That had been the sin Robbie had confessed, though Abbot Planchard was a wise enough man to know that something else worried the young Scot and that the something else was probably the beghard. But Planchard had taken Robbie at his word and become stern with him. He ordered me to do a pilgrimage. Robbie went on. He said I had to go to Bologna and pray at the blessed Dominic's tomb, and that I would be given a sign if Saint Dominic forgives me for the killing.”
Thomas, after his earlier conversation with Sir Guillaume, had already decided that it would be best if Robbie went, and now Robbie was making it easy for him. Yet he pretended to be reluctant. You can stay through the winter. he suggested.
No. Robbie said firmly. I'm damned, Thomas, unless I do some thing about it.
Thomas remembered the Dominican's death, the fire flickering on the tent walls, the two swords chopping and stabbing at the writhing friar who twitched in his dying blood. Then I'm damned too, eh?'
Your soul is your concern. Robbie said, and I can't tell you what to do. But the abbot told me what I should do.' Then go to Bologna. Thomas said and hid his relief that Robbie had decided to leave.
It took two days to discover how best Robbie could make the journey, but after talking to a pilgrim who had come to worship at Saint Sardos's tomb in the town's upper church they decided he would do best to go back to Astarac and from there strike south to Saint Gaudens. Once at Saint Gaudens he would be on a well-travelled road where he would find companies of merchants travel
ling together and they would welcome a young, strong man-at-arms to help protect their convoys. From Saint Gaudens you should go north to Youlouse. the pilgrim said, and make sure you stop at the shrine of Saint Sernin and ask for his protection. The church has one of the whips used to scourge our Lord and if you pay they will let you touch it and you will never suffer blindness. Then you must continue to Avignon. Those roads are well patrolled, so you should be safe. And at Avignon you must seek the Holy Father's blessing and ask someone else how to journey farther east.'
The most dangerous part of the journey was the first and Thomas promised he would escort Robbie to within sight of Astarac to make sure he was not troubled by any coredors. He also gave him a bag of money from the big chest in the hall. It's more than your share. Thomas told him.
Robbie weighed the bag of gold. It's too much.“ Christ, man, you have to pay in taverns. Take it. And for God's sake don't gamble it away.”
I'll not do that. Robbie said. I promised Abbot Planchard I'd give up gambling and he made me take an oath in the abbey.“ And lit a candle, I hope?” Thomas asked.
Three. Robbie said, then made the sign of the cross. I'm to give up all sins, Thomas, until I've prayed to Dominic. That's what Planchard said.“ He paused, then smiled sadly. I'm sorry, Thomas.” Sorry? For what?'
Robbie shrugged. I've not been the best companion.' He sounded embarrassed again and he said no more, but that night, when they all ate together in the hall to say farewell to Robbie, the Scotsman made a great effort to be courteous to Genevieve. He even gave her a portion of his mutton, a succulent piece, spiking it on his knife and insisting she let him put it on her plate. Sir Guillaume rolled his surviving eye in astonishment, Genevieve was gracious in her thanks and, next morning, under the lash of a cold north wind, they left to escort Robbie away.
The Count of Berat had only visited Astarac once and that had been many years before, and, when he saw the village again, he hardly recognized it. It had always been small, malodorous and poor, but now it had been ravaged. Half the village's thatch had been burned, leaving walls of scorched stone, and a great smear of blood scattered with bones, feathers and offal showed where the villagers' livestock had been butchered. Three Cistercian monks were distributing food from a handcart when the Count arrived, but that charity did not prevent a rush of ragged folk surrounding the Count, dragging off their hats, kneeling and holding out their hands for alms.
Who did this?' the Count demanded.
The English, sire. one of the monks answered. They came yesterday.'
By Christ, but they'll die a hundred deaths for this,' the Count declared.
And I'll inflict them. Joscelyn said savagely.
I'm almost minded to let you go to them. the Count said, but what can we do against their castle?'
Guns. Joscelyn said.
I have sent for the gun in Youlouse. the Count said angrily, then he scattered a few small coins among the villagers before spurring his horse past them. He paused to stare at the ruins of the castle on its crag, but he did not ride to the old fortress because it was late, the night was near and the air was cold. The Count was also tired and saddle-sore, and the unfamiliar armour he wore was chafing his shoulders and so, instead of climbing the long path to the shattered fortress he went on towards the dubious comforts at the Cistercian abbey of Saint Sever.
White-robed monks were trudging home from their work. One carried a great bundle of kindling, while others had hoes and spades. The last grapes were being harvested and two monks led an ox pulling a wagon loaded with baskets of deep purple fruit. They pulled the wagon aside as the Count and his thirty men-at arms clattered past towards the plain, undecorated buildings. No one in the monastery had been expecting visitors, but the monks greeted the Count without fuss and efficiently found stabling for the horses and provided bedding among the wine presses for the men-at-arms. A fire was lit in the visitors“ quarters where the Count, his nephew and Father Roubert would be entertained. The abbot will greet you after compline,” the Count was told, then he was served a meal of bread, beans, wine and smoked fish. The wine was the abbey's own and tasted sour.
The Count dismissed Joscelyn and Father Roubert to their own rooms, sent his squire to wherever the lad could find a bed, then sat alone by the fire. He wondered why God had sent the English to plague him. Was that another punishment for ignoring the Grail? It seemed likely, for he had convinced himself that God had indeed chosen him and that he must perform one great last task and then he would be rewarded. The Grail, he thought, almost in ecstasy. The Grail, the holiest of all holy things, and he had been sent to discover it; he fell to his knees by the open window and listened to the voices of the monks chanting in the abbey church and prayed that his quest would be successful. He went on praying long after the chanting had stopped and thus Abbot Planchard discovered the Count on his knees. Do I interrupt?' the abbot asked gently.
No, no.“ The Count winced with pain from his cramped knees as he (climbed to his feet. He had discarded his armour and wore a fur-lined gown and his customary woollen cap. I am sorry, Planchard, most sorry to impose on you. No warning, I know. Most inconvenient, I'm sure.”
The devil alone inconveniences me,“ Planchard said, and I know you are not sent by him.”
I do pray not. the Count said, then sat and immediately stood again. By rank he was entitled to the room's one chair, but the abbot was so very old that the Count felt constrained to offer it to him.
The abbot shook his head and sat on the window ledge instead. Father Roubert came to compline,“ he said,
