imprisoned a creature that was half man and half bull; of how every nine years seven youths and seven maidens were sacrificed to this creature until at last one came with the courage to kill it; how this man, helped by a priestess of the Great Mother, made his way to the heart of the labyrinth, unravelling the priestess’s ball of thread as he went; how he slew the monster and made his escape. The labyrinth was the priestess’s dancing floor; there she danced along its winding path, ever circling and doubling back, until at last she reached the still centre and the great vortex of power that she raised was freed and blasted out into the upper air.
‘The mystic dance brings on the trance state,’ the soft, compelling voice continued, ‘in which power is raised and manipulated.’ The hooded face turned slowly and Joanna caught the sudden glint of bright eyes. ‘Power from the earth, power from the Great Goddess, power that we shall raise here as we dance the labyrinth that the priests have commanded to be laid down. With this power we shall imbue this place with the very essence of the spirit that we revere and it shall be marked so that it never fades.’ He held up a circular object that, from the soft orange glow, Joanna thought must be copper. On it were two figures, one a man, one a strange hybrid with the massive head and shoulders of a bull and the lower body of a human male. ‘This shall be placed at the heart of the labyrinth.’ The voice waxed stronger now. ‘This is our sign.’
But they’ll see it and they’ll take it away, Joanna thought, unable to suppress her doubt. They won’t allow us to Another thought broke across hers; another’s mind gently but firmly reassured her. They will accept this rich gift and they will not think to question its origins, he said, right into her mind. Have faith, Beith, for it will be so.
She looked straight at the hooded man. Now by some trick of the light she could make out his face. Not that she needed to see him, for she already knew him; his mind speaking to hers was unmistakeable. It was the Bear Man.
As the silent group of elders and their companions slipped like shadows away up the steps to disperse into the night, Joanna obeyed the unspoken summons and went to stand in the black shadow of one of the massive pillars supporting the crypt’s roof. When everyone else had gone, he came to claim her. He took her hand, led her up the steps and out across the vast floor of the skeletal cathedral — they passed quite close to one of the watchmen, but the Bear Man must have cast some sort of a glamour about them, for the man did not appear to see them — and then like shadows they passed out into the darkness.
He took her to a place apart from the secret encampment. She lay in his arms until she fell asleep, and in the morning he was gone.
Six
It had taken Helewise’s party a week to travel from the Ile d’Oleron to Chartres. They arrived late one sunny afternoon and Helewise was instantly struck by the sense of almost frantic activity. Rumour had spread of the townspeople’s great efforts, which had begun almost immediately after the fire had destroyed their precious cathedral. The cardinal had told them that the miraculous preservation of the Sancta Camisia was a sign from the Virgin Mary that she wanted a new and more magnificent cathedral built in her honour, so the Chartres people had hastened to start hauling stone from their local quarries. Now, five years on, the massive buttressed walls of the nave rose high up into the blue summer sky. The air was hazed with stone dust and sawdust; all around the cathedral site stonemasons and carpenters worked as if possessed by a spirit of irresistible urgency. Huge carts arrived in a constant stream from roads leading down from the site, each laden with another load of building materials. The noise was deafening: mallets hit chisels into stone; saws bit into timber; horses snorted and struck sparks from the cobbles with their great hoofs; men shouted instructions and exchanged ribald comments.
For several moments, Helewise and her companions simply sat on their horses and stared. Then she turned to Sister Caliste and Brother Saul and said, ‘I could go on watching this amazing scene, but evening approaches and we must find lodgings. Come, let’s try down there.’ She pointed towards a narrow street between rows of close- packed houses.
They had not gone far before a man and a woman stepped out in front of Helewise, who was riding at the front of the little procession. She drew up Honey and said warily, ‘What is it? Can I help you?’
The man had swept off his cap and was making her a clumsy bow. ‘No, Sister, it’s me as wants to help you,’ he said. Glancing over his shoulder, he lowered his voice and said, ‘I shouldn’t go down this street. Down at the bottom, there’s… er… I mean, it’s not suitable, not for you.’
The woman with him elbowed him out of the way and said, ‘What he means, Sister, is that down there’s where the brothels are. If you and your companions want a nice, safe place to stay, there’s a convent down that road.’ She pointed across the square. ‘Further out, there’s the shanty town where most of the workmen put up, but the convent’s not as far down as that so you’ll be quite all right.’ She beamed.
‘Thank you,’ Helewise said, privately wondering why people always imagined that those who wore the habit of religion had to be preserved from the rough side of life. ‘We shall follow your advice.’
The three of them turned their horses and set off back up the street, across the square in front of the cathedral and down the road opposite. Presently they came to a stout stone house set slightly back from its neighbours with iron gates leading into a small courtyard and what appeared to be stabling beyond an arch on one side of the main building.
A nun came out through the open door of the house, saw them and with a smile unlocked the gates. ‘Abbess Helewise?’ she enquired.
‘Yes.’
‘Please dismount and come in. I will send for someone to care for your horses. They have had a long ride, as indeed have you.’
For one bright moment Helewise thought Josse must be here and had notified the convent that she was on her way, but no, that was impossible, for he would surely have stayed on at Oleron for another day at least and could not have overtaken her.
A nun in a white veil had come hurrying to take the horses and now Helewise walked beside the sister who had admitted them, Brother Saul and Sister Caliste behind them. ‘Queen Eleanor’s messenger arrived yesterday evening,’ the nun explained.
‘He must have ridden hard to arrive a day before us!’ Helewise exclaimed.
‘Yes, indeed. They keep horses ready all along the roads between the main towns, you know. A man can ride very fast if he has a constant supply of fresh horses.’ Turning, the nun took in Caliste and Saul, as dusty and travel- stained as Helewise. ‘Your lay brother may lodge with the male convent servants,’ she said, ‘and your nun may attend you.’
‘Thank you, Sister…?’
‘I am Sister Marie-Agnes,’ the nun replied. ‘When you have refreshed yourself, I am ordered to take you to our Mother Superior, who has already made enquiries concerning your mission.’
As Sister Marie-Agnes led the way to a clean but unadorned guest room, Helewise reflected on the extraordinary qualities of the queen. She was not far short of eighty years old but still she kept a watchful eye on all that was important to her. Amid every other concern — including her grief — she had thought to prepare the way for Helewise.
It looked, Helewise thought hopefully as she sank down on to the narrow bed and watched Sister Caliste set about unpacking their bags, as if this business might be quite simply and speedily concluded. Then they could all go back to Hawkenlye — she swung her legs round and lay stretched out on the hard straw mattress — and what a relief that would be.
Over the next two days, Helewise threw herself into her mission. The convent’s mother superior — an elderly nun with an aristocratic bearing who was called Mother Marie-Raphael — accompanied her out each morning and together they sought out men of every calling from master mason to muleteer. Their task was not easy, for it meant enticing men away from this vitally important job to another, lesser one, and in a foreign land. Had it not been for the queen’s letters bearing her seal, Helewise realized that even with the formidable Mother Marie-Raphael beside her she would have got precisely nowhere.
On the evening of the second day, she sat in the convent parlour with Mother Marie-Raphael going through the many names and notes that she had scribbled down on scraps of parchment. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that we are doing well. The master mason has studied Queen Eleanor’s design and has undertaken to begin on plans for the
