spreads like smoke, that kills whoever it touches and spares no one. It is a plague, Thomas, that has been sent to harrow us.“ Planchard gazed ahead, watching the dust dance in a shaft of slanting sunlight that came down from one of the high, clear windows. Such a contagion must be the devil's work,” the abbot went on, making the sign of the cross, and it is horrid work. My brother abbot reports that in some towns of Umbria as many as half the folk have died and he advises me to bar my gates and allow no travellers inside, but how can I do that? We are here to help people, not to shut them away from God.“ He looked higher, as if seeking divine aid among the great beams of the roof. A darkness is coming, Thomas. he said, and it is a darkness as great as any mankind has ever seen. Perhaps, if you find the Grail, it will give light to that darkness.” Thomas thought of Genevieve's vision beneath the lightning, of a great darkness in which there was a point of brilliance. I have always thought. Planchard went on, that the search for the Grail was a madness, a hunt for a chimera that would bring no good, only evil, but now I learn that everything is going to change. Everything. Perhaps we shall require a wondrous symbol of God's love.“ He sighed. I have even been tempted to wonder whether this coming pestilence is sent by God. Perhaps he burns us out, purges us, so that those who are spared will do His will. I don't know.” He shook his head sadly. What will you do when your Genevieve is well?'
I came here. Thomas said, to find out all I could about Astarac.“ Of the beginning and end of man's labours. Planchard said with a smile, there is no end. Would you resent advice?” Of course not.'
Then go far away, Thomas,“ the abbot said firmly, go far away. I do not know who killed the Count of Berat, but it is not hard to guess. He had a nephew, a stupid but strong man, whom you took prisoner. I doubt the Count would have ransomed him, but now the nephew is himself the Count and can arrange his own ransom. And if he seeks what his uncle sought then he will kill any rival, and that means you, Thomas. So take care. And you must go soon.” I am unwelcome here?'
You are most welcome,“ Planchard insisted, both of you. But this morning the Count's squire went to report his master's death and the boy will know you are here. You and the girl. He may not know your names, but the two of you are . . . what shall I say? Noticeable? So if anyone wants to kill you, Thomas, they will know where to look for you. Which is why I tell you to go far away. This house has seen enough murder and I want no more.” He stood and placed a gentle hand on Thomas's head. Bless you, my son,' he said, then walked out of the church. And Thomas felt the darkness closing.
Joscelyn was the Count of Berat.
He kept remembering that, and each remembrance gave him a surge of pure joy. Count of Berat! Lord of money.
Villesisle and his companion had returned from Astarac with news that the old man had died in his sleep. Before we even reached the monastery,“ Villesisle told Joscelyn in front of Robbie and Sir Guillaume, though later, in private, he confessed that things had not gone quite so well and that blood had been shed. You're a fool,” Joscelyn snarled. What did I tell you?“ To stifle him.”
So you drench the damn room with his blood instead?“ We didn't have a choice,” Villesisle claimed sullenly. One of his men-at-arms was there and tried to fight. But what does it matter? The old man's dead, isn't he?'
He was dead. Dead and rotting, and that was what really mattered. The fourteenth Count of Berat was on his way to heaven or to hell and so the county of Berat with its castles, fiefs, towns, serfs, farmlands and hoarded coin all belonged to Joscelyn. Joscelyn possessed a new authority when he met with Robbie and Sir Guillaume. Before, when he had been wondering whether or not his uncle would ransom him, he had done his best to be courteous for his future depended on the goodwill of his captors, but now, though he was not rude to them, he was aloof and that was fitting for they were mere adventurers and he was one of the richest nobles of southern France. My ransom,“ he declared flatly, is twenty thousand florins.”
Forty. Sir Guillaume insisted immediately.
He's my prisoner!“ Robbie turned on Sir Guillaume. So?” Sir Guillaume bridled. You'll settle for twenty when he's worth forty?'
I'll settle for twenty,' Robbie said and it was, in truth, a fortune, a ransom worthy of a royal duke. In English money it would be close to three thousand pounds, sufficient to set a man up in luxury for life.
And three thousand florins more,“ Joscelyn offered, for the captured horses and my men-at-arms.”
Agreed,“ Robbie said before Sir Guillaume could object. Sir Guillaume was disgusted at Robbie's ready acceptance. The Norman knew the twenty thousand florins was a fine ransom, more than he had ever dared hope for as he had watched the few horsemen approach the ford and the waiting ambush, but even so he believed that Robbie had acquiesced far too quickly. It usually took months to negotiate a ransom, months of haggling, of messengers carrying offer and counter-offer and rejection and threat, yet Joscelyn and Robbie had settled the whole thing in moments. So now,” Sir Guillaume said, watching Joscelyn, you stay here until the money arrives.'
Then I shall stay here for ever,“ Joscelyn said calmly. I have to enter into my inheritance,” he explained, before the money will be released.'
So I just let you go?“ Sir Guillaume asked scornfully. I'll go with him,” Robbie said.
Sir Guillaume looked at the Scotsman, then back to Joscelyn, and he saw allies. It must have been Robbie, Sir Guillaume thought, who had taken down Joscelyn's reversed shield, a gesture the Norman had noticed, but decided to ignore. You'll go with him,“ he said flatly, and he's your prisoner, eh?”
He's my prisoner,' Robbie said.
But I command here,“ Sir Guillaume insisted, and a share of the ransom is mine. Ours.” He waved a hand to indicate the rest of the garrison.
It will be paid,' Robbie said.
Sir Guillaume looked into Robbie's eyes and saw a young man who would not meet his gaze, a young man whose allegiances were uncertain, who proposed riding to Berat with Joscelyn. Sir Guillaume suspected Robbie would not come back and so the Norman went to the niche where the crucifix hung, the same crucifix that Thomas had held in front of Genevieve's eyes. He took it from the wall and laid it on the table in front of Robbie. Swear on that. he demanded, that our share will be paid.“ I do so swear it,” Robbie said solemnly and laid his hand on the cross. By God and my mother's own life, I swear it.' Joscelyn, watching, seemed amused.
Sir Guillaume gave in. He knew he could have kept Joscelyn and the other prisoners, and that in the end a means of conveying all the ransom money would be found if he did keep them, but he also knew that he would face weeks of unrest. Robbie's supporters, and there were many of them, especially among the routiers who had joined the garrison, would claim that by waiting he risked losing all the money, or else they would suggest that he was planning to take the cash and cheat them, and Robbie would encourage that unrest and in the end the garrison would fall apart. It was probably going to fall apart anyway for, without Thomas, there was no compelling reason to stay. The men had never known that the Grail was their quest, but they had sensed Thomas's urgency, sensed that he had a cause, and that what they did had a meaning; now, Sir Guillaume knew, they were just another band of routiers who were lucky enough to hold a castle. None of them would stay long, Sir Guillaume thought. Even if Robbie did not pay his share Sir Guillaume could still ride away much richer than he had arrived, but if Robbie kept faith then Sir Guillaume would have enough money to raise the men he needed to gain his revenge on those who had stolen his lands in Normandy.
I expect the money to be here within a week. Sir Guillaume said.
Two. Joscelyn said.
One week!'
I shall try. Joscelyn said off-handedly.
Sir Guillaume pushed the crucifix across the table. One week!' Joscelyn looked at Sir Guillaume for a long time, then placed a finger on the broken body of Christ. If you insist. he said. One week.
Joscelyn left next morning. He rode in full armour, his banner, horses and men-at-arms restored to him, and with him rode Robbie Douglas and sixteen other men-at-arms, all of them Gascons who had served Thomas, but who now preferred to take gold from the Count of Berat. Sir Guillaume was left with the men who had come to Castillon d'Arbizon, but at least that meant he had the archers. He stood on the castle's topmost rampart and watched Joscelyn ride away. John Faircloth, the English man-at arms, joined him there. Is he leaving us?' he asked, meaning Robbie.
Sir Guillaume nodded. He's leaving us. We'll not see him again.“ So what do we do?” Faircloth asked, in French this time. Wait for the money, then go.'
Just go?'
