Part 21 (1/2)

He found the sheriff at home. With a glance at Sabin, occupied with her young daughter as she supervised the girl's efforts to grind some tiny seeds in a pestle, Gervase led Josse outside. He strode across to a stone bench in a corner of the courtyard and, under a weak late autumn sun, the two men sat down.

'Olivier de Brionne is dead,' Josse said. 'He died on the road south through France, and I surmise he was hunting for Ninian to silence him.' He outlined his reasoning, and Gervase nodded.

'You are sure that this dead man was in truth Olivier?' he asked.

'Aye, I'm sure,' Josse replied. 'The description fitted and, besides, the wounds matched those Olivier had. One was badly infected, and I guess that was what killed him.'

Gervase nodded. 'Poor Beatrice,' he murmured. 'Both sons gone, her daughter mistress of her own establishment, and a witless dotard her only company.'

Josse bowed his head. Aye, he thought, poor Beatrice. In the midst of his own worries and sorrows, he had forgotten hers.

'Ninian is safe, then, from pursuit?' Gervase said after a moment. 'The king no longer wishes to hunt him down, and Olivier is dead.'

'Aye,' Josse said heavily. 'I was for going on after him to tell him so, but Helewise-' Abruptly, he stopped. He had acknowledged she was right, but still his decision pained him.

'Helewise persuaded you otherwise,' Gervase supplied. 'Well, Josse, I have to say I agree with her. France is a very large country, and the south is in turmoil.'

'So I am told,' Josse said gruffly. Turning to Gervase and fixing him with an intent stare, he went on, 'And yet you sent Ninian to the Midi.'

Gervase looked down at his hands. He was silent for some time, then he spoke. 'Josse, there is something I must tell you. I deeply regret that I sent Ninian into danger, but hear me out, I beg you, before you judge me.'

Josse grunted his permission. Gervase was, after all, an old and trusted friend, and Josse was a fair man.

After a short pause, Gervase began to speak. 'You may not remember, Josse, but once before, years ago, I spoke to you of my mother.'

Josse tried to remember, and soon the few facts he had been told came to him 'Aye, I do recall that you mentioned her. She-' Suddenly, his head shot up as the details of that long-ago conversation flooded into his mind. And he thought he began to understand.

Deliberately lowering his voice, he leaned closer to Gervase and said, 'Your mother is a Cathar. She lives in the Midi with others of her faith, and you told me she wished you would join them, although that is not your wish. You heard what is happening to the Cathars of the Languedoc, and your burning need was to send word to your mother. I understand that, but, Gervase, it sticks in my throat that you used Ninian as your messenger.'

Gervase bowed his head. 'I accept your rebuke, Josse,' he said humbly. 'May I, though, finish what I have to say?'

'Aye,' Josse grunted.

Again, there was a pause as Gervase sought for the right words. Then: 'The Cathars are besieged down there in the south, but the wise among them knew what would sooner or later happen and made plans. They organized a network of . . . agents? Spies? I do not know what you would call them. These brave men and women are by no means all Cathars, at least not overtly; many are, as I understand it, merely friends and supporters who do not believe that the crusade is right or just. Despite their isolation, the southern Cathars manage to send word to the outside world, via this secret network that conveys messages in and out of the Midi.'

'And you received such a message from your mother?'

Gervase smiled. 'I did, although I already knew both that she needed me and what she wanted me to do, for she had oh, Josse, you will, I fear, find this hard to believe.'

'I'll do my best,' Josse said wryly.

'I heard her voice,' Gervase said in a whisper. 'I was asleep, or possibly on the point of waking, and I thought I heard her speak. I was at first afraid, for I know she is hundreds of miles away, and then all at once wide awake. And in my mind there was just the one thought, which, no matter how unlikely it is, I believe my mother put there.'

Fascinated despite himself, Josse breathed, 'What was the thought?'

'She was in dire need of a certain object, whose whereabouts she was aware were known to me. She wanted me to locate it and send it to her.'

'A magical object?' Josse asked. 'A weapon? Something to help them in their struggle to defend themselves?'

Gervase shrugged. 'I do not know. I do not think so, unless this thing has powers that it keeps hidden.' He turned to Josse. 'But you know of it. You tell me.'

'I know of it? But-'

Then he remembered.

He recalled how, long ago, a worried young nun had brought to him an object of mysterious origin that she had found somewhere it had no place to be. He recalled looking at it with her, both of them full of wonder. And he remembered what had happened to that object.

And memory swiftly brought another realization.

'There is no band of robbers, is there, Gervase?' he asked softly. 'You requested the meeting with Dominic because you thought the thing you sought so urgently was still at New Winnowlands, where I told you I had hidden it. Having somehow ascertained from him that his valuable possessions included no such thing, you turned to me. When did you take it from its hiding place? When you pretended to hear voices and sent me hurrying off?'

Gervase made himself meet Josse's eyes. His were full of shame. 'Yes.'

Slowly, Josse shook his head. 'Did it matter so very much, Gervase, that you had to lie to me and trick me?'

'I am sorry, Josse, but it did. And, before you ask, I could not take you into my confidence, for already I suspected that Ninian might have to flee because of the crime he was accused of. Had I revealed the secret to you, you'd have known why I suggested my mother's house as a destination for Ninian and you would have protested.'

'I wouldn't if I-'

'You would, Josse. You would have said, quite rightly, that I was using Ninian's desperation for my own ends, making use of the fact that he had to run for his life to get this precious book to my mother.'

Gervase was right, and Josse knew it.

After some time, Josse said, 'Why does your mother want the book?'

'I asked myself the same question to begin with,' Gervase replied, 'before the full message reached me. Once I had her written words, I began to understand.'

'She wrote to you?' Josse could scarcely believe it. 'Did she not fear to put you and your family in danger? This war against the Cathars may well spread, and if you were known to be sympathizers-'

Gervase laid a hand on his arm. 'She wrote in code, Josse. I would be surprised if anyone not knowing the key would ever break it.'

'I see. Go on, then. Tell me about this book.'

Gervase looked up into the pale blue sky, as if searching for inspiration. 'It as far as I understand it, the Cathars believe they were brought to earth out of their spiritual existence, and that they will return to that paradise when they die. They try to recall what it was like to live in spirit, but it is difficult. Some of them claim to remember a magical, heavenly strain of music, which they say is the sound of angel song. One or two men with a rare ability wrote down this music, just as a monk writes down plainsong.'

'And that that music was in the book?'

Slowly, Gervase nodded.

Josse was confounded. 'But I still do not comprehend the importance of it!' he protested. 'What difference can a s.n.a.t.c.h of music make to people who face being hunted out of existence?'

Gervase's face worked, but he kept himself under control. Belatedly aware how tactlessly he had spoken Gervase's mother was one of those preparing for a terrible fate! he began to apologize.

'No, Josse, you speak the truth,' Gervase said heavily. 'As to why the music means so much, can you not guess?'

Josse thought hard, but he could not. 'No,' he said shortly.