entered a dreamlike, half-asleep state in which the present faded away, to be replaced by the vivid past. Joanna had conceived Meggie in that cold, hard February. Josse had not known it — he did not meet his child until she was well over a year old — but Joanna had taken up a place in his heart that, whether or not he would ever see her again, would be hers for ever.
‘Josse, we’re coming up to the city walls.’ Ninian’s voice broke into his reverie.
With a disturbing mixture of regret and relief, Josse brought himself back to the present and turned his thoughts to finding somewhere out of the way where he and Ninian could stay.
Fourteen
In the morning, Josse set about enquiring after Philippe de Loup. Again, several men had heard the name and their faces registered varying levels of disapproval and disgust, but nobody had seen him recently.
‘He’s here for a secret purpose,’ Ninian said as he and Josse ate a hasty lunch, ‘so it’s not very likely he’ll be strolling around openly advertising his presence.’
‘You are quite convinced he’s got the figure and intends to place her in the new cathedral?’ Josse asked through a mouthful of bread and dry spiced sausage.
‘Yes,’ said Ninian firmly.
Josse chewed thoughtfully. Then he said, ’Well, he won’t do it in broad daylight. We’d better rest now, lad, so that we’ll be fresh for later.’
Ninian watched him. ‘What are we going to do?’ The excitement in his face suggested that he already knew.
Josse wiped his eating knife and stuck it back in its sheath. ‘We’re going to find a nice little hiding place behind one of those huge pillars and keep watch.’
He heard Ninian’s quiet exclamation. Then the boy said softly, ‘Yes!’
They had found a place to stay in a humble establishment in an area of lodgings huddled out by the town walls. Josse had selected it because it was unobtrusive; he did not want word of his presence reaching de Loup’s ears. To pass the remaining hours of daylight, they returned to their lodgings and Ninian, restless with pent-up energy, set about giving the horses and their gear a thorough refurbishment. Josse found a shady place in the small courtyard and, leaning back comfortably against a hay bale, watched Ninian work until his eyes became heavy and he went to sleep.
They found a tavern and ate supper, then, both wearing dark cloaks, made their careful way to the cathedral. As he had done before, Josse ducked into the shadows and studied the movements of the night watchmen — three of them tonight — until he had recognized a pattern. Then he whispered in Ninian’s ear, ‘Next time the one with the cudgel passes, we slip out behind him and go in there.’ He pointed to the wide space between two buttresses. Ninian nodded. His tension was palpable.
They waited for what seemed like a very long time, but the watchman did not reappear. Neither did either of his colleagues; with a shiver of alarm, Josse wondered why. Had they decided it was a quiet night and, seeing no necessity to maintain their patrolling, retired to huddle around their brazier? Or was it something else…?
The important thing was that they were no longer keeping watch. Josse nudged Ninian and together they raced from the shadowy street, across the open space and into the huge cathedral.
Josse looked around him. Torches blazed in several places, giving sufficient light to illuminate the long nave. He noticed immediately that much work had been done in the time that he had been away. He realized that the gap through which they had just entered was in fact one of the doorways, only as yet there was nothing but a gaping space. Apart from the other entrance, the encircling walls were now complete and in many places already stretched high above his head. In some places the rib stones of the vaults had already begun to creep out along the falsework supporting them. Looking up, Josse was awestruck all over again at the sheer scale of the construction. It was going to be utterly magnificent.
Ninian nudged him. ‘Where does that lead to?’ He indicated a low arched doorway deep in the shadows.
‘I don’t know. Why?’ Josse whispered back.
‘There’s someone hiding there. I’m sure I saw movement.’
‘Come on. We’ll creep round, keeping our backs to the wall, and see who it is.’
It seemed to take a long time to make their slow and careful way to the doorway. As they approached, Josse drew out his long knife. They slowed their progress to a crawl, and Josse stared into the darkness behind each pillar before drawing level with it. They reached the arch and went on past it, investigating for some way on the far side. They found nothing.
‘He’s probably gone through the doorway,’ Josse murmured softly. ‘We’ll follow.’ Ninian nodded.
Josse went through the doorway and found himself at the top of a spiral staircase. The light from the nave behind him did not reach far and soon he was descending in pitch darkness. A light would have helped, for the steps were slippery and in places uneven, but it would also have alerted anyone beneath to their approach. He crept on, his right hand clutched on the hilt of his knife and his left maintaining a steadying contact with the wall. Ninian was right behind him. The boy’s presence was both reassuring and something else to worry about.
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Edging forward, Josse peered out. There was a glow of light and by it he saw that they were in a crypt. Slowly, silently, they moved forward towards the light. Presently Josse made out the sound of soft chanting.
They emerged from the aisle that led from the entrance — it appeared that the layout of the vast crypt followed that of the cathedral above — and a dimly lit space opened out before them. There was a well and, beyond it, a dark opening leading to a further chamber. The source of both the light and the chanting appeared to be within. They crept on.
The further chamber, although lit only by a circle of lanterns about five paces in diameter, gave the appearance of being enormous. The vaulted ceiling arched over their heads, supported on massive pillars spaced at regular intervals. The circle of light appeared to surround a depression whose surface was bumpy and uneven, like the floor of a cave. A subterranean cave, Josse thought with a shudder, for now they must be deep under the ground, in the very womb of the earth.
One voice was chanting and it came from a figure that stood with its back to Josse and Ninian. It was tall, and the broad shoulders were hunched over a bent back. It was clad in a black cloak or robe whose folds swept down to the floor; it was bareheaded, the lantern light catching glints from the snow-white hair that flowed down to the shoulders. It — he — was intent on what he was doing. Before him on the rough floor was an object made of dark wood. The goddess had returned to her proper medium, but the wrong hand had brought her here.
Ninian gave a sharp, quickly suppressed intake of breath and said in Josse’s ear, so softly that it was as if he mouthed the words, ‘Philippe de Loup.’
The crooked back and the white hair suggested someone old, and Josse had imagined a man still in his full vigour. ‘You are sure?’ he murmured.
‘Yes.’ Ninian spoke with impatience. Then, ‘Josse, we must stop him! She is not his to position or even to worship, for he has forfeited his rights.’ Then, vehemently, he added, ‘The guardianship of the Knights of Arcturus is over.’
Slowly Josse nodded. Then cautiously he began to move forward. Ninian was right beside him. They were ten paces from de Loup. Eight. Five. Josse raised his knife. Ninian had a dagger in his hand.
Josse was about to announce their presence and demand the figure when, very slowly, de Loup turned round to face them. ‘Ninian de Courtenay,’ he said in a low, strangely beautiful voice.
Even in that moment of extreme tension, a jolt went through Josse; Ninian used his mother’s name, not that of his stepfather. Suddenly it seemed to him that Joanna was there beside him, her spirit standing guard beside her lover and her son.
Ninian pointed at the figure. ‘You cannot have her,’ he said, his voice high with strain and making him sound even younger than he was.
De Loup laughed. ‘But I do have her,’ he remarked. ‘I have brought her to a fitting resting place.’
‘It is not for you to decide what is fitting!’ Ninian cried.
Now de Loup looked angry. ‘Is it not?’ he said coldly. ‘It is for a stripling of a lad to decide, is it? A callow boy
