Robard sat next to me while Maryam lounged a few yards away. Angel had curled up in her lap and fallen fast asleep. There appeared to be no way for us to sneak into the castle, something like a hidden passage or some other minor miracle. I even toyed with the idea of making a run for the castle gate across the open ground. If we were seen, the High Counsel’s men would ride us down long before we reached safety. There had to be a better plan, a way to get word to Celia we were here and to open the gate when the time was right, just long enough for the three of us to slip in ahead of the High Counsel and his men.
The barest flicker of an idea took hold.
“Robard, were we to get close enough, could you shoot an arrow over the walls and into the bailey?” I asked.
Robard looked up at Montsegur again and studied it before answering.
“Of course, if it’s only distance you’re concerned with and not accuracy. However, I’ve a notion there’ll be swirling winds atop the mountain, which could sway the shaft,” he said.
“But you could do it?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Then the only thing we need now is to relieve three of the High Counsel’s men from their horses,” I said.
“What?” Robard asked. Maryam moved Angel off her lap.
“Did I just hear you correctly?” she asked. “Horses? Are you mad?”
“No, but I am running out of time and options,” I argued.
I filled them in on my plan.
“This might be the worst plan in the entire history of plans,” Robard announced upon hearing my explanation.
“Agreed!” said Maryam.
“All right,” I said. “If it’s such a bad idea and you don’t wish to participate, I understand.”
I left them there and moved forward through the trees. Angel growled.
Robard shushed her. “Tristan, wait,” he pleaded.
“No time to wait. I need to help Celia get rid of the High Counsel like I promised, and then we need to get moving before Sir Hugh sends every remaining Templar regimento in the Kingdom of France after us. So unless the two of you have a better idea, we have no time to waste.”
I kept walking forward and could hear some whispered conversation between them, but shortly they followed behind me.
“So how are we going to do this?” Robard asked.
“Do what? You mean execute the worst plan in the history of plans?” I said.
“Yes. The very one.”
“First we need to get a message to Celia. I thought about trying to write her a note and attaching it to the arrow, but I have no quill. Besides, if I were in her position, I might think such a note from me is a trick. She may think the High Counsel followed us, captured me and is torturing me so he can deceive her.”
We kept climbing ever upward toward the mountaintop, now moving more carefully in case the High Counsel had pickets posted in the area. We needed to remain silent, but now and then Robard and Maryam took the opportunity to whisper numerous reasons why my plan was full of holes. As if I didn’t know it already. I ignored them and concentrated on getting us within an arrow’s distance of the fortress without being seen. Caution slowed us down, and the steep incline of the mountain made it even more difficult.
After about an hour of deliberate movement, we reached a spot where the tree line faded and the ground cleared to rock. We looked about for any sign of the High Counsel and his men but saw none. Surely they had the castle under watch, but my guess was they stayed to the woods to keep out of the wind and remaining light.
I took a closer look at the castle. There was a large wooden gate facing southwest. It was the only way in. On the one hand, we were lucky there was no moat or drawbridge to cross. On the other hand, I was concerned my plan may not work at all. For Robard to send an arrow into the castle from here would require a miraculous shot. He would not only have to factor in the distance of at least three hundred yards, but he would also have to shoot up at an odd angle. It looked unlikely, if not impossible.
“It’s not going to work,” Maryam said. “If we leave the safety of the trees, we’ll be spotted for sure. And there’s no way Robard can make the shot from here. We’re going to have. .”
“What makes you think I can’t make the shot, Assassin?” Robard cut in.
Maryam winked at me.
“Robard, I know you have great skill as an archer, but look at the angle. It’s not your fault. It is just impossible. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Robard, Maryam might be right,” I said.
“What? You too?” Robard looked at us both. “I could make this shot in my sleep. In fact, Assassin, I’ll make a friendly wager. I make the shot and you hand over one of those fancy daggers of yours. If I miss, you can keep my longbow.”
I gasped. Maryam was trying to goad Robard into doing what I wanted him to do, but as always, Robard took things a step too far. I had no wish for his foolish pride to get in the way.
“Robard. . really, it’s not necessary. I’ll think of some other-” I stumbled over the words.
“Done,” said Maryam.
I looked at her with eyes wide.
“No. Absolutely not. Maryam, I won’t let you sacrifice your most prized possessions. And Robard, you told me your bow belonged to your father! Both of you stop this foolishness,” I demanded.
“It did belong to my father. And his father before him. But I don’t intend to miss.”
“I’ve always wanted my own bow,” Maryam said mischievously.
Robard pulled an arrow from the wallet at his back. He looked at it, sighting along its length to make sure it was straight and true.
“Tristan, what do you think, will she recognize my arrow?” he asked. I shrugged and stared up at the castle again, thinking hard. What would Celia think? If I sent her some type of message, would she know it was from me? Or would she expect a trick? Then I decided. If we could get close enough to the walls without being captured by the High Counsel, maybe she would be able to hear or recognize us. It was not a perfect plan, but it would have to do. The rest depended on Robard.
With a sigh, I removed Sir Thomas’Templar ring from my satchel. Robard nodded, and slid the ring over the point of the arrow along the shaft until it reached the feathers. I found a loose black thread on the edge of Maryam’s tunic and pulled it from the cloth, and with it Robard wrapped the ring tightly to the arrow. He tested the weight and balance of the arrow in his hand until he was satisfied.
“I’m going to move out of the trees. I want to get a feel for the wind. Let’s just hope no one spots me.”
Robard trotted forward, bent at the waist. Within a few yards he had cleared the forest. He moved stealthily along, keeping his eyes on the fortress. There were no shouts of warning from the woods or calls of alarm. So far, so good.
A Templar ring, an English arrow and a thread from an Assassin’s tunic. I offered up a silent prayer, begging God to guide the arrow. For good measure, I rubbed the satchel on the spot where the Grail lay in its secret compartment. I strained to hear the humming sound I’d heard before whenever I needed a miracle. If ever I needed one, it was now. But the Grail remained silent.
First, Robard needed to make the shot. Then someone needed to find the arrow and take it to Celia. Then she would need to discern its meaning. I had to trust she would know what to do when the time was right. That was the plan. Flimsy, with a great deal of luck needed for it to even have the remotest chance of working. But it was all I had.
Robard found a spot that suited him and squatted behind a large boulder, still intently studying the fortress above. He reached down and grasped a small handful of dirt, tossing it in the air, watching to see how the breeze moved it.
He waited, thirty yards away from us, and I silently bade him to hurry. We could be seen at any time. Finally, he stood and tested the pull of the bow a few times. Then he took his stance, feet slightly more than shoulder width apart, left arm straight and still, with the guard of the bow clutched firmly in his left hand. His right hand held the nock of the arrow gently between his fingers, and then he pulled back and I heard the familiar creak of wood and
