Part 19 (1/2)
”Where will you go when you leave?” Torquil asked.
”North, east-wherever the fighting is,” Wallace replied, ”until Edward of England learns that Scotland is more trouble to him than it's worth.”
He retired shortly thereafter, pleading the acc.u.mulated effect of weeks on the run, with little sleep. When he had gone, Arnault and Torquil gave Luc and the abbot a concise report of all that had occurred since leaving Scone nearly two months before.
”The ambush incident is troubling,” Abbot Henry noted heavily, ”and I cannot say whether it relates to any of the rest of our troubles, but it's good to know that Saint Columba has not abandoned us. Still, this business of the Uncrowned King will bear further reckoning. Are we to wait for him to appear, I wonder, or are we meant to go in search of him?”
”I honestly don't know,” Arnault said with a sigh, ”and I'm too exhausted to make any immediate decisions until we've had a night's sleep. We daren't stay here long, because de Sautre will be only a day or two behind us, but I'd like to satisfy myself as to how the immediate crisis is resolving, before we move on.”
”I can hide you for a few days,” Abbot Henry said, ”and even mislead de Sautre, if I must. What will you do then?”
”Return to Paris and seek retroactive permission for this bit of deception,” Arnault said, plucking at a fold of his black robe, ”and bring back letters of credence from the Visitor that will satisfy John de Sautre-and Brian de Jay-that we've acted within orders. In the externals, we have-but as Templars, we're of little use in any official capacity if our own brethren think we're apostate.”
”Are you?” the abbot asked quietly. ”Apostate?” he added.
Arnault exchanged glances with Luc and Torquil before carefully answering.
”Father Abbot,” he said, ”we have confided a great deal about our greater mission; and you know that the Stone and Scotland's sovereignty are at the heart of it. Let us say that I most fervently hope we may continue to operate within the structure of the Order. But I tell you frankly that, if forced to a choice, all three of us would choose that mission over our vows to any earthly Temple.”
”Scotland is fortunate, indeed, to have such champions,” Abbot Henry said quietly. ”And for what it's worth, all three of you have my unqualified blessing.”
”I value that more than I can say,” Arnault said, with some relief. ”Incidentally, concern for the Stone prompts me to ask what provisions you have made for its safety.”
Abbot Henry looked at him owlishly. ”Why, none, beyond the fact that the abbey is sanctuary. Dear G.o.d, do you think the English mean to take it?”
”If you were Edward of England,” Torquil said, ”would you not take it? It's clear he means to break this country, destroy its ident.i.ty as a nation. Once he's secured Balliol's surrender, we think it likely that he'll appropriate any and every item he can that relates to Scotland's sovereignty-and the Stone will be right at the top of his list, along with the crown, the scepter-whatever he can find.”
”Then, we must move the Stone, hide it!” the abbot replied.
”That much seems clear,” Luc agreed, ”and I should have thought of it myself. But I fear that is only half a solution. If Edward arrives to find it gone, he'll organize a search. He won't rest until he finds it. And he'll not scruple to use torture to get what he wants.”
”Having been at Berwick,” Torquil muttered, ”I'll not argue that!”
”Then, if England's king wants a stone,” Arnault said with a faint smile, ”perhaps we'd better make sure he gets one.”
Luc blinked. ”What are you suggesting? That we make a copy?”
”Something like that.”
”It would never work,” Abbot Henry said. ”The Stone is far too distinctive.”
”To your eyes, perhaps. But how many Englishmen have actually had a good, close look at it? Edward himself has certainly never seen it, so how would he know a fake from the real thing?”
”Bishop Bek would know,” said Abbot Henry. ”He was at John Balliol's enthronement.”
”That doesn't mean he actually looked at it closely,” Arnault replied. ”The Stone was encased in its chair and draped over in cloths until Balliol actually sat on it, and I don't think Bek was paying that much attention to furniture that day. I very much doubt that anyone who was present four years ago got more than a casual glimpse of the Stone itself-or that they would remember details, even if they did.”
”He's right,” Torquil agreed, sitting forward eagerly. ”And if the deception succeeds, it at least will buy us some time-and it should prevent an excuse for local reprisals.”
Abbot Henry slowly nodded. ”We must not lose the Stone. Too much depends on it. Let's see: There's a stone quarry less than half a day's ride from here. I dare say the quarry master could supply us with a stone of approximately the right size and shape. But it must be done so that he doesn't suspect what it's really for.”
”I agree absolutely,” Arnault said. ”I'd already thought of that. Tell me, Father Abbot: Would I be correct in a.s.suming that the abbey might have a few buildings in need of repair?”
A ragged smile touched the abbot's lips. ”What abbey does not?”
”I thought that might be the case. Perhaps it's time you commissioned some repairs. No doubt the stonemasons you send will be able to specify what sort of stones they're going to need.” Arnault's gesture to indicate Torquil and himself elicited an answering nod from the abbot.
”That should be within their competence,” he agreed.
”And in the short term,” Luc said, ”it might be a good idea to move the real Stone to a less prominent place-perhaps to the crypt.”
The abbot's growing look of relief affirmed his increasing confidence in the plan. ”An excellent suggestion.
And if my people become accustomed to its absence from its usual resting place, they'll be far less likely to notice when the eventual subst.i.tution is made. But, when that happens, where shall we hide the real Stone?”
Arnault gave a weary sigh, ma.s.saging briefly between his eyes. ”I haven't worked that out yet. Let me sleep on it. For the present, we'll plan to move the Stone down to the crypt tomorrow, and get on with procuring a subst.i.tute stone, and hope that the English king doesn't come banging on the abbey gates before we can make the subst.i.tution.”
When they left the abbot, Luc showed them to beds in the guest house room he shared with Wallace, who was already hard asleep. Both Luc and Torquil soon slept as well, but tired as he was, Arnault found himself unable to drift off. His mind remained restless, alert, as if antic.i.p.ating some event yet to be revealed.
After about an hour of gazing idly at the ceiling, watching the soft flicker of the room's night light, a soft rustling sound made him turn his head. Across the room, William Wallace had risen to a sitting position, bare legs dangling over the edge of his bed, head slightly bowed and arms lax at his sides. After exhaling in a great sigh, he slowly rose, clad only in his s.h.i.+rt, and turned toward the door, shuffling jerkily forward.
His eyes, as he came toward Arnault, were half closed, apparently unseeing. Arnault quietly sat up as he approached, pa.s.sing a hand before his face as he came abreast of the bed; but Wallace was oblivious, and kept moving slowly toward the door.
Instantly awake-and with no doubt that this was the reason for his sleeplessness-Arnault caught up his cloak and roused Luc and Torquil in pa.s.sing as he tossed the cloak around his shoulders and started after Wallace.
”What is it?” Torquil said muzzily, groping for his sword, as Arnault motioned for him and Luc to follow him.
”Leave that. Just come with me. I couldn't sleep; and now Wallace is sleepwalking. I think there may be a reason. Come on.”
Together the three Templars followed the big Scot outside and across the abbey yard. Wallace walked slowly but with seeming purpose, strangely stiff, apparently unmindful of the uneven cobbles under his bare feet. Seeing that he apparently was headed for the church, Arnault hurried ahead and opened the door. Wallace's eyes, as he pa.s.sed beneath the watch lamp beside the church door, were vacant and unfocused. The Templars exchanged glances as they followed him inside.
Far down the nave, the sanctuary lamp seemed a tiny ruby eye keeping watch in the silent church, but wan candlelight also spilled from the archway leading into the north transept. As if the church had been lit by a hundred candles, Wallace made his way unerringly toward that wash of light.
”Is he going where I think he's going?” Luc whispered.
”Aye, visiting the Stone,” Torquil whispered back.
Gesturing them to silence, Arnault hurried his pace, his companions close at his heels. The three of them reached the chapel doorway just in time to see Wallace moving behind the Stone, approaching it from the west. Before Arnault could decide whether he ought to intervene, Wallace folded to his knees and reached out blindly with both hands, laying them to either side of the depression on the Stone's upper surface.
His face was calmly expressionless in the glow of a lone vigil light on the altar, blank eyes s.h.i.+ning like quicksilver. Arnault waited breathlessly. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening, but then, to his astonishment, he saw that a pale, silver-blue glow was emanating from the Stone where Wallace's fingers rested.
Luc uttered an audible gasp and gripped Arnault's shoulder. Torquil made no sound, but his eyes were very wide. Together they watched as the glow spread itself up Wallace's hands and arms, continuing to expand until his whole body was enwrapped in a soft nimbus of pure light.
A fragrance like incense permeated the air, unearthly in its sweetness. To Arnault, the perfume had the quality of angelic sanct.i.ty. The blank look on Wallace's face yielded to an expression of rapture, blind eyes now lifting in wonder to something only he could see.
The light held him a moment longer in its s.h.i.+mmering embrace. Then it slowly began to fade away, like pure water spilling away through a cleft in a rock. With yearning hands, Wallace reached out as if to cling to the departing radiance. When it slipped through his fingers, he uttered a broken cry and crumpled to the floor.