valley floor, Hamish's manacles and gyves fell off in a sudden clatter. He jumped, grinned nervously, and said, 'We seem to be expected!'
'And welcome,' Toby added. No one spoke a word after that, as if they were all afraid that the tutelary might be listening — an illogical reason, because it was just as capable of reading their thoughts.
Welcome, but what sort of welcome? If there was now a third option other than death or exorcism, why had it not been offered before? Or had Montserrat just concluded that exorcism was the better solution, whether Toby wanted it or not?
The weary horses took a long time to haul the great vehicle up to the monastery, but at last the track leveled off, and the wheels rumbled to a halt. Torches flamed in the darkness outside the windows, and male voices raised in anger. It sounded as if the monks wanted the honor of opening the door for the distinguished visitor, and the viceroy's guards were resisting. But the door did open eventually, and the steps were pulled down. Cumbersome and reluctant, Oreste heaved himself to his feet and descended to the courtyard.
Hamish followed, free of his chains. And then went the don and Toby in their enchanted robes. Toby walked unnoticed right in front of Diaz. The temptation to speak to him had to be resisted, for the captain would be better off when the hue and cry started if he did not know where the missing prisoner had gone.
Monks in black habits had already escorted the baron away, hunched and old, a broken man. His interview with Montserrat would be interesting, but he was entitled to a private confession like any lesser penitent. Toby headed in the same direction, sure that the spirit could see him even if no one else could. He knew his invisibility had been lifted when he saw Hamish grinning at him. The don had disappeared in the crowd.
'Do you suppose,' Toby said, 'that any suppliant has ever come to Montserrat with a hob in his heart and eleven demons under his arm?'
'No, and never one as hungry as I am, either!'
'If the senores will allow me to guide them?' The speaker was a genuine monk, an elderly, dignified man with a ponderous belly extending the front of his robe. Without waiting for a reply he set off across the courtyard.
There was little to be seen of the buildings, although they were larger and more numerous than Toby had expected, huddled close together on their high shelf, backed by more sheer cliffs. The ancient holy place, clothed in wind and night and mystery, was impressive even by starlight.
They entered a vast, dim hall, and there their guide stopped and awkwardly turned his bulk. 'You are invited to share our meal, senores, in about an hour, and the abbot will formally welcome you at that time. Meanwhile, you will be guided to your quarters. If there is anything you need that has not been provided, you have only to ask.'
'You are too kind,' Toby said politely, thinking that a little more kindness would have been welcome the previous day. The monk waddled off.
'This is more what I was expecting yesterday,' Hamish said. 'Wine and roast goose? Venison, perhaps?'
'Or you could ask them to take you straight to the library.'
'Hmm! One of the greatest in Europe!'
'See you next year, then.'
'You going to stay here that long?'
Toby had been joking. He had no idea what the future held in store for him, not a year, nor even a day, and he hardly cared. 'Perhaps. This would be a good place for me to learn how to keep the hob suppressed. You'll be back in Scotland long before that.' He yawned.
'No!'
'No? Lost your homesickness?' That was surprisingly welcome news.
'After this? I'd be eating the heather in a week! What are we going to do now, Longdirk?'
'Eat, I hope. Sleep. Think again in a week or two.'
Hamish's eager grin faded. 'But this crusade the don—'
'Demons! You go crusading with him if you want. It's been a stressful day, but I haven't lost quite all of my wits.'
'Senor?' said a childish voice near Toby's elbow.
It came from a cropped-headed novice who clutched a lantern in both hands as if he found it heavy. He could be no more than twelve and was either remarkably brave or unaware that he was addressing a convicted incarnate. 'Will you be kind enough to follow me, senor?'
'I shall be honored. Lead the way.'
Leaving Hamish staring after him with a perplexed frown, Toby followed his guide along a maze of corridors, up several flights of stairs, and finally to a low oaken door. By then he had discovered that the boy's name was Alfonso, he was a choirboy and would be chief soloist as soon as Felice's voice broke. With little less confidence, Alfonso also explained that he intended to be the abbot when he grew up.
Toby expected a monastic cell and would be surprised if he could stand upright in it. A cot long enough for him to sleep on would be astonishing. What he found when he ducked under the lintel was a chamber fit for a king, larger than Granny Nan's cottage and four times the height. Being careful not to laugh, he peered around so he would be able to remember it all and share the joke with Hamish: a fire crackling in a huge stone fireplace, candles gleaming in silver holders on the table, velvet drapes hanging beside real glazed casements, the walls hidden by tapestries — thick rugs on the floor, a basin and ewer and neatly folded towel, two padded chairs, and a four-poster big enough to take him and several friends. He had never merited such a room in his life and never would.
'I fear you have made an error, friend Alfonso. I am not the viceroy.'
The boy's face crumpled in worry. 'No, senor! Brother Tomas pointed you out to me himself. 'The big one,' he said!'
'But this room?'
'Yes, senor! The royal chamber, he said. For the big man — begging your pardon, senor.'
'Oh, I know I'm the big one, so don't worry about that.'
'We are very cramped for space just now,' the boy suggested nervously. 'With so many refugees. Er, I mean no offense, senor! I am certain this is the correct place.'
What game was the tutelary playing now? Such effusive hospitality must come with a monstrous bill, to be presented on the morrow. He padded over the rugs and laid the casket on the table. This would be only the fourth time in his life he had ever slept in a real bed, and last night he had been chained like a dog. Hamish was right — life in Tyndrum
'Well, if you're quite sure…'
'Quite sure, senor. I shall come back later to guide you to the refectory.'
Could he stay awake that long? 'That is very kind of you. It is a magnificent room, but I still think there has been some mistake.' He heard the door close.
'Indeed there has,' said another voice, a familiar voice, clear like a silver bell.
He spun around. Alfonso had shut the door with himself on the inside and was standing there with a faint smile fixed on his face and a golden shimmer around him. Bracing himself for more treachery, Toby went down on his knees, which put their eyes at about the same level, although the boy seemed to be staring through him rather than at him.
'The mistake was ours. It has been many centuries since we had to apologize to a mortal, Tobias.'
'I am grateful to you for sending the don to rescue me, Holiness.' What did it want of him now?
'It should not have been necessary. We misjudged you. We have not met anyone quite like you before, you see.'
'What does that mean?'
The spirit chuckled, although the boy's expression did not change. 'It means that even we should not claim to be infallible. Our knowledge is confined to our experience, which is vast but not infinite, and there are exceptions to every rule. And that rule we overlooked! We have some questions to ask you.'
Questions? Montserrat was as close to omniscient as it was possible to be. Toby suppressed an aching yawn. Why couldn't this wait until morning? 'There are others who need you more than I do tonight — the baron, for instance.'
