“Ah.”
“Come with me now at once,” he said. “The Abbot will wish to see you.”
“But we have—”
“The Abbot will wish it. Come!”
:
Back in the sunlight, Marek noticed how many more soldiers in green and black were now in the monastery courtyards. And these soldiers were not lounging; they were watchful, battle-ready.
The Abbot’s house was small, made of ornately carved wood, and located in a far corner of the monastery. They were led inside to a small wood-paneled anteroom, where an older monk, hunched and heavy as a toad, sat before a closed door.
“Is my Lord Abbot within?”
“Faith, he is advising a penitent now.”
From the adjacent room, they heard a rhythmic creaking sound.
“How long will he keep her at her prayers?” the monk asked.
“It may be a goodly while,” the toad said. “She is recidive. And her sins are oft repeated.”
“I would you make known these worthy men to our Lord Abbot,” the monk said, “for they bring news of Edwardus de Johnes.”
“Be assured I shall tell him,” the toad said in a bored tone. But Marek caught the gleam of sudden interest in the old man’s eyes. Some meaning had registered.
“It is nigh on terce,” the toad said, glancing up at the sun. “Will your guests dine on our simple fare?”
“Many thanks, but no, we shall—” Chris coughed. Kate poked Marek in the back. Marek said, “We shall, if it is not a great trouble.”
“By the grace of God, you are welcome.”
They were starting to leave for the dining room when a young monk ran breathlessly into the room. “My Lord Arnaut is coming! He will see the Abbot at once!”
The toad jumped to his feet and said to them, “Be you gone now.” And he opened a side door.
:
Which was how they found themselves in a small, plain room adjacent to the Abbot’s quarters. The squeaking of the bed stopped; they heard the low murmur of the toad, who was speaking urgently to the Abbot.
A moment later, another door opened and a woman came in, bare-legged, hastily adjusting her clothes, her face flushed. She was extremely beautiful. When she turned, Chris saw with astonishment that it was the Lady Claire.
She caught his look and said, “Why stare you thus?”
“Uh, my Lady . . .”
“Squire, your countenance is most unjust. How dare you judge me? I am a gentle woman, alone in a foreign part, with no one to champion me, to protect or guide me. Yet I must make my way to Bordeaux, eighty leagues distant, and thence to England if I am to claim my husband’s lands. That is my duty as a widow, and in this time of war and tumult, I shall without hesitation do all that may be required to accomplish it.”
Chris was thinking that hesitation was not a part of this woman’s character. He was stunned by her boldness. On the other hand, Marek was looking at her with open admiration. He said smoothly, “Pray forgive him, Lady, for he is young and often thoughtless.”
“Circumstances change. I had need of an introduction that only the Abbot could make for me. What persuasion is in my command, I use.” The Lady Claire was hopping on one foot now, trying to keep her balance while pulling on her hose. She drew the hose tight, smoothed her dress, and then set her wimple on her head, tying it expertly beneath her chin, so only her face was exposed.
Within moments, she looked like a nun. Her manner became demure, her voice lower, softer.
“Now, by happenstance, you know what I had intended no person to know. In this, I am at your mercy, and I beg your silence.”
“You shall have it,” Marek said, “for your affairs are none of ours.”
“You shall have my silence in return,” she said. “For it is evident the Abbot does not wish your presence known to de Cervole. We shall all keep our secrets. Have I your word?”
“In sooth, yes, Lady,” Marek said.
“Yes, Lady,” Chris said.
“Yes, Lady,” Kate said.
Hearing her voice, Claire frowned at Kate, then walked over to her. “Say you true?”
“Yes, Lady,” Kate said, again.
Claire ran her hand over Kate’s chest, feeling the breasts beneath the flattening cloth band. “You have cut your hair, damsel,” she said. “You know that to pass as a man is punishable by death?” She glanced at Chris as she said this.
“We know it,” Marek said.
“You must have great dedication to your Magister, to give up your sex.”
“My Lady, I do.”
“Then I pray most earnestly that you survive.”
The door opened, and the toad gestured to them. “Worthies, come. My Lady, pray remain, the Abbot will do your bidding soon enough. But you worthies — come with me.”
:
Outside in the courtyard, Chris leaned close to Marek and whispered, “André. That woman is poison.”
Marek was smiling. “I agree she has a certain spark. . . .”
“André. I’m telling you. You can’t trust anything she says.”
“Really? I thought she was remarkably straightforward,” Marek said. “She wants protection. And she is right.”
Chris stared. “Protection?”
“Yes. She wants a champion,” Marek said, thoughtfully.
“A champion? What are you talking about? We have only — how many hours left?”
Marek looked at his wristband. “Eleven hours ten minutes.”
“So: what are you talking about, a champion?”
“Oh. Just thinking,” Marek said. He threw his arm over Chris’s shoulder. “It’s not important.”
* * *
11:01:59
They were seated at a long table with many monks in a large hall, a steaming bowl of meat soup in front of them, and in the center of the table, platters piled high with vegetables, beef and roast capons. And no one moving a muscle, but all heads bowed in prayer, as the monks chanted.
Pater noster qui es in coelis
Sanctivicetur nomen tuum
Adveniat regnum tuum
Fiat voluntas tua
Kate kept sneaking looks at the food. The capons were steaming! They looked fat, and yellow juice flowed onto the plates. Then she noticed that the monks nearest her seemed puzzled by her silence. She should know this chant, it seemed.
Beside her, Marek was chanting loudly.
Panem nostrum quotidianum
Da nobie hodie
Et dimmitte nobis debita nostra
She didn’t understand Latin, and she couldn’t join in, so she stayed silent until the final “Amen.”
The monks all looked up, nodded to her. She braced herself: she had been fearing this moment. Because they would speak to her, and she wouldn’t be able to answer back. What would she do?
She looked at Marek, who seemed perfectly relaxed. Of course he would be; he spoke the language.
A monk passed a platter of beef to her, saying nothing. In fact, the entire room was silent. The food was passed without a word; there was no sound at all except for the soft clink of plates and knives. They ate in silence!
She took the platter, nodding, and gave herself one large helping, then another, until she caught Marek’s disapproving glance. She handed the platter to him.
From the corner of the room, a monk began to read a text in Latin, the words a kind of cadence in her ears, while she ate hungrily. She was famished! She could not remember when she had enjoyed a meal more. She glanced at Marek, who was eating with a quiet smile on his face. She turned to her soup, which was delicious, and after a moment, she glanced back at Marek.
He wasn’t smiling anymore.
:
Marek had been keeping an eye on the entrances. There were three to this long rectangular room: one to his right, one to his left, and one directly opposite them, in the center of the room.
Moments before, he had seen a group of soldiers in green and black gathering near the doorway to the right. They peered in, as if interested in the meal, but remained outside.
Now he saw a second group of soldiers, standing in the doorway directly ahead. Kate looked at him, and he leaned very close to her ear and whispered, “Left door.” The monks around them shot disapproving glances. Kate looked at Marek and gave a little nod, meaning she understood.
Where did the left-hand doorway lead? There were no soldiers at that door, and the room beyond was dark. Wherever it went, they would have to risk it. He caught Chris’s eye and gave a small jerk with his thumb: time to get up.
Chris nodded almost imperceptibly. Marek pushed away his soup and started to get up, when a white-robed monk came up to him, leaned close, and whispered, “The Abbot will see you now.”
:
The Abbot of Sainte-Mère was an energetic man in his early thirties, with the body of an athlete and the sharp eye of a merchant. His black robes were elegantly embroidered, his heavy necklace was gold, and the hand he extended to be kissed bore jewels on four fingers. He met them in a sunny courtyard and then walked side by side with Marek, while Chris and Kate trailed behind. There were green-and-black soldiers everywhere. The Abbot’s manner was cheerful, but he had the habit of abruptly changing the subject, as if to catch his listener off guard.