They took seats a few rows behind the last of the parishioners. The bishop entered solemnly dressed in his cassock, with a stole. He greeted everyone and appeared to be in no rush.
The last person to enter was an older woman. She was well-dressed all in a light gray. Her blank face stared straight ahead, not with the intent of seeing where she was going, but rather to avoid looking at anyone. Her lack of expression marked her as someone who had given up living.
“Lady Abadia. You look well this morning.” The bishop came up the aisle and took her gloved hand.
“As do you, Your Excellency.” A brittle smile touched her lips.
The bishop leaned close and spoke to her. She gave him a polite nod and went with him to the front of the chapel. He looked out at the already quiet room and it got quieter. His gracious smile told everyone he was ready to begin.
“May the Lord be with you.”
“And with you,” the small congregation replied.
The service was over quickly. Many of the parishioners went up to the front and left through the side door. All but Lady Abadia.
Andrea waited patiently. When everyone was gone, the bishop came up the aisle leading the mourning mother to her and Donald.
“Lady Abadia, this is Lord Donald Eden and Mademoiselle Andrea Ricard. They would like to speak to you.”
“M’lord. Mademoiselle. It is my custom to say a prayer in the Alain Chapel. Please join me.”
The three of them started to the sanctuary. Donald turned to the bishop. “Will you be joining us?”
“I’ll be nearby if you need me.”
The three went to the private chapel behind a wrought iron gate, where they found a wide altar with a bench in front of it.
A painted likeness of a young man stood to one side of the altar. On the other was a small reliquary, similar to the box Andrea saw in the secret room at the chateau in Châlons.
It was hard for Andrea to contain her excitement. She glanced at Donald. He too stared at the container, his mouth open.
They waited while the mother said her prayer to her lost son. This was not a task the woman did without thought. Tears rimmed her eyes and a shaky hand tenderly touched the image. That was when the small miracle happened.
A warm, smile spread across her face. The gray tone was gone as if a veil had lifted. For several moments Lady Abadia was alive, before the pain of her loss reclaimed her.
The woman turned to them.
“The bishop said you wanted to speak with me. How can I help you?”
“Lady Abadia, we found some items and think they may have belonged to your son, Alain.”
If the woman was surprised she hid it well.
“Over the years many have come to me claiming to have Alain’s items. None of them were his. How can you be sure what you have belonged to my son?”
Donald took out the package. Lady Abadia gestured that he should place it on the altar.
He took off the linen wrappings and revealed the box, a smaller version of the one on the altar.
“Where… where did you find this?” Her hand was at her throat. She stared at the box then reached out to touch it but drew her hand back.
“It was given to Maurice Cantrelle by a young soldier in Tunis after the death of King Louis. Maurice stayed with the boy to ease his passing.”
Andrea watched the woman close her eyes as if she were bringing the small vignette Donald described to life.
“He gave the box and the contents inside to Maurice and asked him to return them to his family.”
“Why do you think the boy was my Alain?”
Andrea stepped up, opened the box.
Lady Abadia glanced inside and said nothing.
Andrea looked underneath the buttons and brooches and took out the ring.
“Maurice kept this in a sacred place. He didn’t know who the boy was or how to find his parents. He tried for over ten years to find the boy’s family, but died never completing his mission.”
Andrea opened the ring to disclose the signet.
“No one knew the ring opened. Once we did, the signet led us here.” She handed the band to the woman.
Lady Abadia took the ring and held it to her chest. Tears fell down her cheeks. Finally, she opened her eyes.
“At last. Yes, this is Alain’s.” She snapped the signet shut and stepped to the altar.
Donald and Andrea watched as the oddly shaped dome of the ring was slipped into a recess in the larger reliquary. Lady Abadia turned the ring until a soft click echoed in the chapel. A small compartment opened.
“My family has been the keeper of the treasure beyond measure for some time. I feared I would die with no one to pass this on to. The one who surrenders the ring is the one who becomes the next custodian.” She removed a small box.
Donald and Andrea glanced at each other.
“No, m’lady. We are returning your son’s things to you. That is our only purpose.”
She smiled at them. “Think what you may, but this is now yours to hold and keep safe.”
She took a parchment out of the box, handed it to Andrea, then leaned close to them.
“Many have tried to find it, but no one has succeeded. You, the Seeker and the Sword, will do what you must to protect the treasure.” She replaced the parchment that had been in the box with her son’s precious items, held her treasure close, and started into the cathedral.
“Please?” Andrea asked.
The woman stopped and looked at her from over her shoulder.
“Before you go. Tell us about the treasure beyond measure,” Andrea said.
Chapter Nine
Donald and Andrea went
