enter unknown territory.
After a while I tried again to engage Maryam in conversation, but despite my efforts she remained sullen. I knew her anger was not directed at me, but the farther we traveled, the more I wished to have the old Maryam back.
As we rounded a bend in the stream, the wind picked up and Angel suddenly stiffened, then growled. She had smelled something on the breeze, and sensing her alarm, Maryam and I stopped in our tracks.
Angel paced forward, standing rigid, her nose working the air.
“What do you think she smells?” Maryam asked quietly.
“Don’t know. Most likely a squirrel,” I answered. But I didn’t believe it. Something in her manner urged caution. Silently I drew my short sword. I was about to encourage Maryam to draw her daggers, but a quick glance showed me they were already in her hands. How had she done that?
“Easy, girl,” I said to Angel. “Let’s go.”
The three of us moved silently along the stream, the sound of our movements muffled by the bubbling water. Several yards past the campsite, Angel stopped to sniff at something on the ground.
“Maryam,” I whispered. “Is that. .?”
“Yes,” she answered.
A large spot of blood covered the leaves and ferns lining the forest floor. Something big had been killed or severely wounded nearby.
“Maybe we should take a different route,” I offered.
Maryam shrugged. In her present state, with her pent-up anger at Robard, I thought she might actually enjoy finding something to fight.
Angel sauntered past the blood and this time kept her nose to the ground, moving quietly along the stream. Then without warning, she let out a bark and took flight, charging ahead. She bounded into the nearby underbrush and disappeared from sight.
“Dog. . Angel!” I stammered. “Come back!”
We crept forward through the thicket until we reached Angel, barking and pawing at the ground near a large oak. As we approached her, I nearly screamed when a man fell from behind the tree and onto the ground.
I circled around to the front of the man while Maryam held her position at the rear. When I could see his face, I was shocked to discover I knew him.
It was Philippe.
His shirtfront was covered in blood. One of his arms looked broken, and as I knelt beside him, his eyes opened. He looked up at me and said, “Celia!
Then he pitched forward and collapsed in my arms.
“What did he say?” Maryam asked.
“He said, ‘Celia. You must save her.’”
9
Philippe was barely breathing. I knelt beside him and cut away his shirt with my small knife. A large wound just below his heart still bled. Having seen men die on the battlefield, I was amazed that Philippe was still alive and that he’d managed the strength to crawl as far as he had through the trees. I also realized there was nothing I could do for him.
“What should we do?” Maryam asked.
“There is nothing we can do except pray for his soul,” I said.
“He was a fellow warrior,” she said sadly, kneeling in the familiar position that I knew meant she was praying.
“Yes, he was,” I replied quietly.
I studied Philippe again. His sword was missing. There was no sign of his horse.
“Who do you think could have done this?” Maryam asked. “Was it this High Counsel?”
“I don’t know. Philippe was always circling back to see if they were being followed. It could be they. .”
Philippe reached up and grabbed my arm, and I yelped in surprise. His eyes flew open, and with every bit of will he had, he focused on me. My heart pounded in my chest and my breath stopped.
“Templar! You must save her. I’m nearly done. The High Counsel will not rest until he crushes her and her father. Swear to me.” So Philippe
“Philippe, what happened? How were you hurt?” I asked.
He struggled for breath.
“The High Counsel left a small force behind, trailing north. They must have found my tracks from my earlier scouts and guessed I would ride back to check. Six of them ambushed me.” He coughed then, and a horrible gurgling sound came from his chest. He groaned in agony.
“Where are they now?”
“Four of them are dead,” he said. He stopped, still struggling to breathe.
“Let me see if I can treat. .”
“NO!” he said, and squeezed my arm so tightly that I thought the bones would break. Even near death his strength was remarkable. He groaned and closed his eyes, then raised his head again to speak.
“No. Leave now. Celia will move everyone from the villages to Montsegur, our fortress, but the High Counsel will not give up easily. You are a soldier. You are needed there. Celia needs you. Jean-Luc, the others, they are far too young. . and inexperienced. . Good men, but they have never seen a real battle. Celia. . she said she saw something in you. I was not. .” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, but then his head came up again.
“I. . was not. . impressed,” he said. He gripped my arm. “But you have returned here, so you must be braver than I thought. Now go. They will need your help. Go.”
“Philippe, I will see you are given a Christian burial-” I started to say.
“No! No time. We are Cathars! We care not for the church and its rules. Leave my bones where they fall. Go. Swear to me you will go to her,” he said. “Templars give an oath to protect the innocent, do they not?”
“Yes.”
“Then as a soldier, promise you will defend her. On my soul, she and her people. . our people. . are innocent,” he groaned, and closed his eyes again.
“You have my vow, Philippe. I will go to her,” I said, placing my free hand over his. “Everything I can do, I will. On my honor as a Templar.”
Philippe nodded. Angel whined again as Philippe took one more ragged breath and life left him. Maryam bowed her head and said a few more quiet words. For reasons I couldn’t understand, I felt a profound sadness. Philippe had certainly not cared for me, but I offered up a silent prayer for this man who had so bravely given his life for his friends.
“Let’s go,” I said, starting back through the woods toward the stream. Maryam called behind me.
“Tristan, wait. What about Philippe? We can’t just leave him here.”
“You heard him. He made his wishes clear.”
“Yes, but you can’t just not bury the poor man,” she said. Sir Thomas had once told me how the Saracens had very strict laws governing the handling and burial of their dead.
“Maryam, I know how you feel. But Philippe’s faith was his own. It is not our place to question him. He asked me to go to Celia’s aid as quickly as possible. Burying him will take hours.”
“Stop!” she shouted at me. I stopped.
“What do you think you’re doing, Tristan? What is going on here?”
“I. . You saw. Philippe is dead; Celia and her people need my help.”
“Do they now?” I wasn’t sure but I thought I detected just an edge of disgust or maybe sarcasm in Maryam’s voice.
“Yes. You heard Philippe. They are in trouble. I promised I would try to help them.”
“So you’ll forget your ‘vital’ mission and traipse off to help someone you just met and hardly know?”
“Maryam, please. Philippe just gave his life for his people! They are obviously in grave danger. You heard me
