The Burning Chambers

by Kate Mosse

  ‘Got any complaint?’

  Minou held up her hand. ‘I meant nothing by it. How old are you?’

  ‘Old enough to manage a carriage and horse,’ he said sullenly, kicking the straw with the toe of his boot. ‘Besides, it’s only as far as the Roman hill fort some five leagues south.’

  Minou turned to Aimeric. ‘Piet has organised for a second carriage to meet at us Pech David and take us on to Carcassonne.’

  ‘We should get going. It is already a quarter past seven. The gentleman was most insistent that we leave the city tonight.’

  ‘Is he here?’ Aunt Boussay suddenly said again. ‘Don’t let him see me, don’t let him—’

  ‘You’re quite safe,’ Minou told her. ‘Aimeric and I will look after you. Come, we are going on a journey.’

  Whether it was shock, or that the beating had inflicted some lasting damage, Minou could see her aunt was very confused. She had intended to drive directly to Puivert, but Madame Boussay would not be able to cope in this state. She needed rest. She needed ointment for her wounds.

  ‘If we’re going, we must go now,’ the groom said again, ‘else the gates will be shut.’

  Minou took a deep breath. There was no choice. For now, they would go to Pech David, as Piet had arranged, and then she could decide what to do next. She glanced at her brother, realising she would have to tell him about Alis soon.

  And then she thought of Piet, and the precious cargo she was carrying for him, and her courage returned.

  ‘Dear Aunt,’ she said, using the same voice she had used with her brother and sister when they were little, ‘Aimeric is going to help you up into the carriage. Will you take his arm?’

  ‘We’re going away? Does Monsieur Boussay know? He does not like me to go anywhere without his permission.’

  ‘It is he who has bid me take you out of the city, dear Aunt, for the sake of your health.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ A strange, lopsided smile came across her bruised face. ‘He always puts me first. Monsieur Boussay is a good husband, always thinking of me, always . . .’

  ‘Come, Aunt,’ Minou said, guiding her onto the bench seat with Aimeric’s assistance.

  ‘Will dear Florence be there too? Will my sister be waiting for me? I would so love to see her. It has been so long.’

  ‘We are all going to look after you, dear Aunt,’ Minou said softly. ‘You won’t ever have to be afraid again.’

  He will be here any day now.

  This letter, written in his own hand and with his personal seal, attests it. In it, he speaks of impending chaos and the final battle to save the soul of Toulouse. The date set is for the thirteenth day of May and he considers it prudent to remove himself until the worst has past. Until every last heretic has been burnt or expelled and the cancer of Protestantism extirpated. Only then will he return to Toulouse and provide the leadership the Church needs.

  Until that time, Valentin will find sanctuary with me in Puivert.

  He writes, too, that he knows the whereabouts of the true Shroud. God willing, he says, by the time I have his letter in my hand, it will be in his possession.

  The most welcome news is this. He has discovered where Minou Joubert is lodging and is taking steps to have her taken into his custody.

  From his hands, to mine.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  TOULOUSE

  ‘Why are we stopping?’ Minou asked, as the carriage came to a standstill in Place de la Daurade.

  Madame Boussay had slipped into a stupor. Her eyes were open, yet she seemed insensible of her surroundings. Minou was concerned, but did not want her to come to at this moment.

  ‘They’ve set up a checkpoint before the tollhouse on the bridge,’ the groom replied, half standing on his platform.

  ‘Why?’ Aimeric said.

  ‘Searching everyone trying to leaving the city, by the looks of it.’

  Minou squeezed Aimeric’s hand. ‘We must not be alarmed. There are often checks on the bridge.’

  ‘But what about her?’ he said, jerking his thumb towards Madame Boussay. ‘What if they think we are responsible?’

  Gently she pulled her aunt’s hood further across her face, to hide her swollen eye and the bruising around her jaw.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ Minou said, with a confidence she did not feel. ‘All will be well.’

  McCone had sheathed his sword, but Piet felt the point of the Englishman’s dagger sharp against his side and hidden from view. The slightest pressure would drive it into his guts. Meanwhile, they were walking close together as if boon companions, across Place de la Daurade.

  As they drew level with the steps of the church, Piet’s eyes darted around, trying to decide how and when to make his move: if he allowed himself to be taken to the dungeons of the Inquisition, that would be the end of it.

  ‘There is no point thinking of running,’ McCone said. ‘We have men everywhere.’

  It was true, there were soldiers on every corner. A checkpoint had been set up at the entrance to the covered bridge, and there was a bottleneck of wagons and carriages waiting to cross over to the fortified suburb of Saint-Cyprien. Some belonged to Huguenot families, part of the general exodus since the rioting in April, but others were clearly those of wealthy Catholics. Expensive livery and decorated carriages. He hoped to God that Minou and Aimeric had got safely away before the searches began.

  McCone’s dagger jabbed him again in the ribs.

  ‘This way,’ he said under his breath. ‘Don’t want to keep the noble Valentin waiting.’

  ‘What ails her?’ the guard asked roughly, pointing at Madame Boussay.

  ‘She suffers with her nerves,’ Minou said quickly, ‘not contagion. We are taking her to the country for her health.’

  ‘Remove her hood so I can see her face.’

  ‘Sirrah, she is unwell. It would not be seemly for her to unveil.’

  ‘Unless I see her face, you will not pass.’

  Minou hesitated, then stepped down from the carriage. ‘This is the wife of an associate of Monsieur Delpech. No doubt you know his name. I have been ordered to take her out of Toulouse with the minimum of fuss.’

  The soldier laughed. ‘The wife of a high-ranking official, in a carriage like this with a single horse! You expect me to believe that?’

  ‘So as not to draw attention,’ Minou said, producing a sou from her purse. ‘My master wishes his wife to have the privacy appropriate to her station. He believes it would be regrettable if attention was drawn to her presence.’

  The coin vanished. ‘Who’s the boy?’ he said, pointing at Aimeric.

  ‘The son of her physician,’ Minou said, ‘in case my mistress needs one of her tinctures on the journey.’

  He looked doubtfully at Aimeric, who had the sense to hold his tongue.

  ‘Get on with it,’ a man shouted from a wagon behind them. ‘What’s the hold-up?’

  ‘Come on, hurry up.’

  ‘Are you Catholic?’ the guard said.

  ‘Of course,’ Minou said, producing her rosary. He seemed undecided and the moment stretched thin, until to her relief, he waved them through.

  They quickly caught up with the slow-moving caravan crossing the bridge, trundling forward between boarded-up stalls, and Minou started to breathe more clearly. This is where she had come on her first outing with her aunt in Lent. She had lost the stone to her favourite ring and they took it to be reset. And this stall on the right was where her uncle had founded the business that was to make him so rich, using money from her aunt’s dowry to buy his stock.

  A shout went up behind her. ‘Wait a moment. You.’

  Minou glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the soldier who had let them through had been joined now by another, who was pointing at her. She turned cold. After all this, were they going to be stopped now?

  ‘Mademoiselle!’ he called.

  The bridge was crammed with people and animals. There was no way of evading the sentries.


  ‘I say, you there. Pull up.’

  Minou had no choice. She had to protect her aunt and brother. She had to protect the Shroud. The only way to do so was to separate herself from them. Without drawing attention, she untied her cloak and let it fall down to the floor beneath the seat.

  ‘Are they shouting for us?’ Aimeric asked.

  ‘I fear so,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ll see what they want. You carry on without me.’

  ‘No! I’m not leaving you here.’

  She clasped his hand. ‘You must. There is more at stake than you know. God willing, this is nothing and I will soon join you at Pech David. Most people will be travelling that way.’ She glanced over her shoulder again, to see the two soldiers now pushing their way through the crowd towards them. ‘But if I do not arrive tonight, then you must instruct the driver to take you to Puivert. In the mountains. There’s money enough in my purse. Here, take it.’

  ‘Puivert?’ Aimeric’s eyes widened. ‘But we’re supposed to be going to Carcassonne.’

  ‘The plans have changed,’ Minou said urgently. ‘All you need to know is that both Father and Alis are there.’

  ‘What! Why? How do you know?’

  ‘You remember? Aunt told me our parents lived there before you were born.’

  ‘Yes, but what’s that got to do—’

  ‘Aimeric, there’s no time to explain now. Go, and take this with you. Guard it well.’ Minou slid the cloak across the floor with her foot. ‘In the lining, there is something of great value that belongs to Piet. Also, something of our aunt’s that I am keeping safe for her.’

  ‘Of value? Then why—’

  ‘You must keep it concealed and safe in the cloak – keep both objects hidden.’

  Aimeric frowned. ‘Is Piet coming to Puivert to retrieve this whatever it is?’

  ‘If he can, yes. Courage, petit. I am relying on you. We all are. A bientôt, my favourite brother.’

  ‘Come soon,’ he said in a small voice, but Minou was relieved to see resolve in his eyes.

  ‘I will.’

  She let go of his hand, climbed down from the carriage and walked towards the soldiers.

  ‘Were you speaking to me, sirrah?’

  ‘I told you.’ He addressed the guard who had allowed them passage. ‘It is her, don’t you see her eyes? They don’t match.’

  Minou had no idea if Madame Montfort had reported her to the authorities or if Monsieur Boussay had recovered and sent men after them, only that she had to both draw them away from the carriage and try to avoid being taken herself in the process.

  Minou leapt forward, catching them off guard.

  ‘Hey!’

  She ran straight between them, zigzagging in and out of the mass of wagons and traps, past the tollhouse and off the bridge.

  ‘In the name of the Seneschal, stop!’

  Minou made it to the square, moments before the sentries on the bridge realised what was happening. She kept running towards the Eglise de la Daurade, where the congregation was just spilling out onto the church steps after Vespers.

  God willing, she could lose herself in the crowd.

  Piet heard a cry go up down by the bridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two soldiers chasing someone through the crowd. McCone heard it too and half turned.

  Piet took his chance.

  He threw himself backwards, sinking his elbow into McCone’s belly and using his other to knock the stiletto dagger away. Then he bolted back towards the church, where the evening service had just finished.

  God willing, he could lose himself in the crowd.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  PUIVERT

  Once Alis was sure the nurse was asleep, she put down her book, tiptoed past the cold fireplace and out of the chamber. Full of ale, the nurse had left the key in the door again.

  The building where Alis was being held had once been the main living quarters of the château de Puivert. The estate offices were on the top floor. The middle floors – where she lived with the woman who was guarding her – were given over to the sleeping and living quarters, with the kitchens on the ground floor. The rooms were stacked one upon the other like in a medieval castle and older houses, connected by ladders.

  In the weeks of her imprisonment, Alis had watched and listened, and come to learn the routines of the household. When she first arrived in April, she had been confined within one room. Then she had been given the run of the middle floor and accompanied into the courtyard for a little air each afternoon.

  Everything in the castle revolved around the Lady Blanche, her mercurial moods and her shifting demands. Alis did not know if it was the baby she was carrying that made her so changeable, only that the servants feared and disliked their mistress.

  Alis was lonely and she missed her tabby kitten, but the mountain air suited her. Her cheeks were pink and plump, her long curled hair shone as black as a crow’s wing and, after more than a month in Puivert, she rarely coughed. Her lungs were strong now. She was taller by a pouce and there was more skin on her bones. When Minou came to take her home, she would be pleased.

  She hoped the kitten would remember her.

  The days were long, however. To pass the time, Alis read and read. She wanted to have plenty to tell Minou when she came about the history of the château de Puivert and the village. She was collecting dates and stories and scraps of information, like a magpie feathering its nest. When she was bored with reading, and the nurse was snoring, she quietly went exploring.

  Alis stepped into the upper courtyard, which was the oldest part of the castle. She had never been allowed to go through the arch into the main courtyard, and had never risked trying to creep through on her own. It looked as large as the Grande Place in the Bastide, with four defensive towers to house the garrison, including a prison in the base of the Tour Bossue and the counting house in the Tour Gaillarde. It was like a small town in its own right. She would tell Minou all about that too when she came.

  If she came?

  Alis still didn’t know why Lady Blanche wanted to entice Minou to Puivert, though she understood she herself was the bait. Though she often cried herself to sleep at night and hoped desperately someone would come to take her home, she also prayed Minou would stay away.

  In Toulouse, Minou was safe.

  TOULOUSE

  Vidal nodded to Bonal, who closed the door, then returned his attention to McCone.

  ‘You let him escape.’ He held up his hand. ‘Just to be clear, McCone. You are telling me that you had him, but you lost him. You are telling me Piet Reydon is not in your custody.’

  ‘It was unfortunate that—’

  ‘Unfortunate! It is unfortunate that we did not obtain the information we needed from Crompton, I agree. It is unfortunate for Devereux that he was discovered and someone saw fit to cut out his tongue. But failing to bring Reydon to me is not unfortunate, McCone. It is a very grave error on your part.’

  ‘In my defence, I say—’

  Vidal took a step towards him. ‘You have no defence, McCone. It was on your urging that I decided to arrest Reydon, having explained my reasons for not having done so previously. I gave you charge of following out my orders. You failed. And because you failed, he is now well aware he is being hunted and will most likely vanish.’

  ‘Your men also failed,’ McCone protested. ‘Reydon claimed you attempted to arrest him at his lodgings. It was you who put him on his guard.’

  Vidal ignored him. ‘Tonight, a Protestant army will enter the city. We are expecting them and it is what is necessary – to bring this pernicious stalemate to an end and for Toulouse to be wholly, properly Catholic again – but it means we have but a matter of hours to recover the Shroud.’

  McCone threw up his hands. ‘The Shroud. Why do you fix such attention on a ragged piece of cloth? You are a sophisticated man, Valentin. You can’t possibly believe it means anything?’

  ‘You are talking like one of them, Jasper. All that time in th
e company of Huguenots. Have they got you? Have they converted you?’

  ‘You insult me.’

  ‘I chose you because you appeared to believe only in money. Not so grave a sin as heresy, but a sin all the same.’

  ‘I have not been converted. I am still at your service.’

  Vidal clicked his fingers. Bonal opened the door, and two armed soldiers entered. ‘I have no further need of you, McCone.’

  ‘Monsignor! I beg you. I will—’

  ‘Here we have another heretic who should be given the chance to confess the error of his ways. Take him away.’

  McCone tried to run. Bonal stuck out his foot, he stumbled, and the guards seized him.

  ‘I have served you well,’ he shouted. ‘I have served your cause well.’

  Vidal made the sign of the cross. ‘May God be merciful and receive you into His presence.’

  As the guards dragged McCone away, struggling and still protesting his innocence, Vidal removed his official robes. He wanted nothing that would mark him out as a priest.

  ‘Have the carriage made ready and fetch my travelling clothes, Bonal,’ he said. ‘I would not be in Toulouse tonight.’

  ‘Very good, Monsignor.’ The servant hesitated, then asked: ‘Might I ask where we are going, in order to know what best to pack for your comfort and safety?’

  ‘We will go first to Carcassonne. It is the obvious place for the girl to make for.’

  ‘You think it was her the soldiers failed to apprehend on the bridge?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I do.’

  ‘And that Reydon gave the Shroud to her?’

  Vidal frowned. ‘If the flower seller’s evidence can be trusted, then yes.’

  Bonal’s fingers stole to the bandage wrapped around his hand. ‘He is a dangerous opponent.’

  ‘He is nothing,’ Vidal snapped.

  ‘Very good, Monsignor.’

  ‘After Carcassonne, we will continue to Puivert and remain there until Toulouse is safe once more.’ Vidal smiled. ‘The air is clear in the mountains.’