me to her just as much. As if she needed its protection as well. But that sounded foolish. My duty was to protect the Grail, not to treat its wonders like a cheap carnival trick. Sir Thomas had entrusted it to me because he believed I would keep it safe. And although I sorely wished he had picked someone else, he had chosen me. I had to get on with my mission.
“You are a two-day walk from Perpignan. You should easily find a ship there,” she said.
Philippe was mounted and impatient to be under way. “Mademoiselle. .,” he whispered.
“Shh,” she hissed at him.
“Thank you, Tristan,” she said.
“For what?” I asked.
“For listening.” She nodded good-bye to Maryam and Robard, then mounted her horse, and we watched in silence as they rode away into the darkness.
Robard had retrieved his bow and held it in his left hand. Nervously shifting back and forth on his feet, he coughed quietly.
“Tristan?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“Time to go,” he said.
Both Maryam and Robard were eager to be on their way. We started off at a trot, following the stream. It would lead us to the shore eventually, and from there we could make our way to the city. We hiked in the opposite direction of Celia and her riders. Moving along in silence, Robard finally suggested we stop for the night.
“We need to rest,” he said. “I’m exhausted. Haven’t had much sleep since we came out of the water.”
“All right,” I said. “But we should reach the shore soon. We should make camp there. We’ll be far enough away from Celia’s camp then. If anyone finds us, it will be easier to convince them we’ve been following the shore and haven’t come across any other travelers.”
By the time two hours went by, the half moon rode high in the sky, providing us some light. The smell of salt water wafted over us, and we broke through the trees. There before us was the shore. It gave me pause to look again upon the ocean that had spit me out not so long ago. I took no joy in being near the water again.
We weren’t hungry, but we built a fire, and its light and warmth did much to improve my mood. No one spoke much; we were all too tired to talk. Angel found a spot close to the fire, curled up and was soon fast asleep.
It was time for me to carefully examine the contents of my satchel, and I was pleased to see that everything, although damp, had survived with little damage. On the second day aboard ship I’d wrapped Sir Thomas’ letter and the note I brought from the abbey in oilskin to protect them from the dampness. They were wet, but both were still readable and would likely dry out in fine shape. Even my blue woolen blanket had made it through.
With Maryam and Robard close by I couldn’t inspect the Grail, but Robard had shot an arrow through the satchel at very close range when we were back in Outremer and it had survived without a scratch. The Grail had likely survived being bounced about in the waves. I would check on it later, when I had time alone.
Staring at the flames, I worried about Celia, remembering how I had been followed by the King’s Guards in Dover. They had shadowed me through the marketplace and had taken some strange interest in me. I had no idea what they wanted. But they acted with impunity. Powerful men like kings and archbishops always had plenty of soldiers and thieves to do their bidding. It wasn’t fair.
The fire helped me relax, and I realized how tired I was. Maryam was stifling yawns as well. Robard volunteered to take the first watch, so I lay down next to the fire and closed my eyes, asleep in seconds.
Robard shook me awake a few hours later. He had banked the coals and the fire glowed. The warmth was comforting in the chill of the night as I held my hands over it, still feeling groggy and sore, and wincing at any movement of my still aching muscles.
Instead of keeping a sharp eye for anyone who came our way, I squatted close to the fire and closed my eyes for a few minutes. In my dream, the humming sound of the Grail came to me again. It pulled me up from the darkest depths of sleep, and when my eyes opened, its song was replaced by Angel’s low growl. Maryam and Robard were still asleep, but it was nearly daybreak. Scrambling to my knees, I searched the surrounding woods, feeling like I had just awoken from a bad dream. Angel snarled again, louder this time, and stood, teeth bared, staring into the darkness.
I jumped in the air and my hand clutched the hilt of my sword as I spun around.
There on the beach a few yards from the fire was a large force of mounted horsemen. They were all dressed in black tunics with gold crosses on the chest. Each of them was heavily armed with sword, lance and shield. At the head of the column rode a very tall, resplendent-looking man wearing the same black tunic but with a golden cape, rimmed with white fur, around his shoulders. His beard was neatly trimmed, and in the gathering light I could see his dark hair and black, cold eyes. He wore a very large ring made of gold on his right hand. He was a priest or monsignor of some rank. Having grown up around monks, I still thought it odd to find a man of God in command of troops. But it was not an uncommon practice. Celia had made mention of an archbishop who was angry with her, and it appeared he had sent his most trusted priest to track her down.
He stared down at me with an expression on his face I couldn’t quite place at first, then did. Amusement. He dismounted and strode toward the fire until he stood just a few feet away. Angel did not like his uninvited invasion of our camp. She growled again, moving between me and the stranger.
“Looks to be a ferocious dog. Does he bite?” the man asked.
I nodded.
He chose to ignore Angel, who backed up until her rump rested against my leg. I could feel the tension in her body and had no doubt she would spring in a heartbeat if this man made the wrong move. “You are dressed as a servant of the Templars, are you not?” he asked. He spoke English with a very thick French accent, reminding me of King Richard. But I understood him just fine.
I nodded.
“Do you intend to draw your sword?” he asked, pointing to my hand, which still clutched the hilt of my weapon.
I shook my head. He had yet to give me a reason.
“Good. Are you able to speak?” he asked.
I nodded again, which made him smile.
“Excellent. Then I’m hoping you will be able to help me locate a group of outlaws. I suspect you crossed paths with them last night,” he said. His tone said he knew this to be true and it would be useless for me to deny it. He never took his eyes off me.
Without moving my head, I glanced down. Robard’s eyes were open and he was looking at me, trying desperately to figure out what to do. His wallet and bow sat leaning against a tree trunk a few inches from his hand.
“Please leave the bow and arrows where they are,” the priest said, evidently aware that Robard was awake. There was a lack of menace in his voice, which only made him sound more formidable. He spoke with a casual certainty as if expecting us to obey his commands without question.
Very slowly Robard rose to stand next to me. He yawned, running his hand through his hair as if he wasn’t bothered by any of this at all.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Robard said.
“Then you must allow me to introduce myself,” the man replied. “I am the High Counsel to the Archbishop of Languedoc. My men and I are on the trail of six heretics. We followed them to your camp upstream. We lost their trail north of here and then followed your tracks. Now, if you please, I would like to know, where are they headed?”
I had a feeling this High Counsel would not take well to deception.
“Heretics? I thought you said you were on the trail of outlaws,” Robard asked.
“One and the same,” he replied.
“We need to know which,” Robard said. “I have no use for heretics, but outlaws, well, that’s a different story. So which is it, Father?”
The High Counsel’s eyes narrowed and his face turned to stone. I groaned inwardly. Not now, Robard.
“We had no idea they were heretics, Father,” I interrupted before Robard could say anything more. “We were shipwrecked east of here a few days ago. They found us on the beach and offered us food. That’s all. I can’t say for
