Labyrinth

by Kate Mosse

  ‘As it ever does,’ he said mildly. ‘Is the Host as large as they are saying?’

  ‘Twenty thousand strong, maybe more. We cannot fight them in open combat, Simeon, the numbers against us are too great. If Besièrs can hold the invaders here for some time, then at least it will give us the chance to raise a fighting force in the west and prepare the defences of Carcassona. All who wish it will be offered refuge there.’

  ‘I have been happy here. This city has treated me — us — well.’

  ‘Besièrs is no longer safe. Not for you, not for the books.’

  ‘I know it. Still,’ he sighed, ‘I will be sorry to go.’

  ‘God willing, it will not be for long.’ Pelletier paused, confused by his friend’s unflinching acceptance of the situation. ‘This is an unjust war, Simeon, preached out of lies and deceit. How can you accept it so easily?’

  Simeon spread his hands wide. ‘Accept it, Bertrand? What would you have me do? What would you have me say? One of your Christian preachers, Francis, prayed that God should grant him the strength to accept those things he could not change. What will happen will happen, whether I wish it or no. So, yes, I accept. It does not mean that I like it or wish it were not otherwise.’

  Pelletier shook his head.

  ‘Anger serves no purpose. You must have faith. To trust in a greater meaning, beyond our lives or knowledge, requires a leap of faith. The great religions each have their own stories – Holy Scripture, the Qur’an, the Torah – to make sense of these insignificant lives of ours.’ He paused, his eyes sparkling in mischief. ‘The Bons Homes, now they do not seek to make sense of the evil men do. Their faith teaches them that this is not God’s earth, a perfect creation, but instead an imperfect and corrupt realm. They do not expect goodness and love to triumph over adversity. They know that in our temporal lives they will not.’ He smiled. ‘And yet here you are, Bertrand, surprised when Evil meets you face to face. It is strange that, no?’

  Pelletier’s head shot up as if he’d been found out. Did Simeon know? How could he?

  Simeon caught his expression, although he made no further reference to it. ‘Conversely, my faith tells me the world was made by God, that it is perfect in every particular. But whenever men turn away from the words of the prophets, the balance between God and man is disturbed and retribution will follow as sure as night follows the day.’

  Pelletier opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

  ‘This war is not our affair, Bertrand, despite your duty to Viscount Trencavel. You and I have a wider purpose. We are joined by our vows. It is that which must now guide our steps and inform our decisions.’ He reached out and clasped Pelletier’s shoulder. ‘So, my friend, keep your anger and your sword in readiness for those battles you can win.’

  ‘How did you know?’ he said.‘Have you heard something?’

  Simeon chuckled. ‘That you were a follower of the new church? No, no, I have heard nothing to that effect. It is a discussion we will have some time in the future, God willing, not now. Much as I would dearly love to talk theology with you, Bertrand, we have pressing matters to attend to.’

  The arrival of the servant with a tray of hot mint tea and sweet biscuits stopped the conversation. She placed it on the table in front of them, before removing herself to a bench in the corner of the room.

  ‘Do not concern yourself,’ Simeon said, seeing Pelletier’s worry that their conversation was to be overheard. ‘Esther came with me from Chartres. She speaks Hebrew and a few words of French only. She does not understand your tongue at all.’

  ‘Very well.’ Pelletier pulled out Harif’s letter and handed it to Simeon.

  ‘I received one such at Shavuot, a month past,’ he said when he’d finished reading. ‘It warned me to expect you although, I confess, you have been slower than I anticipated.’

  Pelletier folded the letter and returned it to his pouch.

  ‘So the books are still in your possession, Simeon? Here within this house? We must take them — ’

  A violent hammering at the door shattered the tranquillity of the room. Immediately, Esther was on her feet, her almond eyes alert. At a sign from Simeon, she hurried out into the corridor.

  ‘You do still have the books?’ repeated Pelletier, urgent now, the expression on Simeon’s face making him suddenly anxious. ‘They are not lost?’

  ‘Not lost, my friend,’ he started to say when they were interrupted by Esther.

  ‘Master, there is a lady asking to be admitted.’ The words in Hebrew rattled off her tongue, too fast for Pelletier’s rusty ears to follow.

  ‘What manner of lady?’

  Esther shook her head. ‘I know not, master. She says she must see your guest Intendant Pelletier.’

  They all turned at the sound of feet in the corridor behind them.

  ‘You left her alone?’ Simeon said with concern, struggling to get up.

  Pelletier also rose to his feet as the women burst into the room. He blinked, unwilling to trust the evidence of his eyes. Even thoughts of his mission disappeared from his mind as he looked at Alaïs, who had come to a halt in the doorway. Her face was flushed and her quick brown eyes were flashing with apology and determination.

  ‘Forgive me for this intrusion,’ she said, looking from her father to Simeon, then back, ‘but I did not think your servant would admit me.’ In two strides, Pelletier had crossed the room and thrown his arms around her.

  ‘Do not be angry that I disobeyed you,’ she said, more timidly. ‘I had to come.’

  ‘And this charming lady is . . .’ said Simeon.

  Pelletier took Alaïs’s hand and led her into the centre of the room. ‘Of course. I am forgetting myself. Simeon, may I present to you my daughter, Alaïs, although how or by what means she comes to be here in Besièrs, I cannot tell you!’ Alaïs bowed her head. ‘And this is my dearest, my oldest friend, Simeon of Chartres, formerly of the Holy City of Jerusalem.’

  Simeon’s face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Bertrand’s daughter. Alaïs.’ He took her hands. ‘You are most welcome.’

  CHAPTER 28

  Will you tell me of your friendship?’ Alaïs said, as soon as she was seated on the sofa beside her father. She turned to Simeon. ‘I asked him once before, but he was not minded to confide in me then.’

  Simeon was older than she had imagined. His shoulders were stooped and his face criss-crossed with lines, a map of a life that had seen grief and loss as well as great happiness and laughter. His eyebrows were thick and bushy and his eyes bright, revealing a sparkling intelligence. His curly hair was mostly grey, but his long beard, perfumed and oiled, was still as black as a raven’s wing. She could see why her father might have mistaken the man in the river for his friend.

  Discreetly, Alaïs dropped her eyes to his hands and felt a flash of satisfaction. She had supposed right. On his left thumb he wore a ring identical to her father’s.

  ‘Come, Bertrand,’ Simeon was saying. ‘She has earned the story. After all, she has ridden far enough to hear it!’

  Alaïs felt her father grow still beside her. She glanced at him. His mouth was set in a tight line.

  He is angry now he realises what I’ve done.

  ‘You did not ride from Carcassona without an escort?’ he said. You would not be so foolish to make such a journey alone? You would not take such a risk?’

  ‘I — ’

  ‘Answer me.’

  ‘It seemed the wisest — ’

  Wisest,’ he erupted. ‘Of all the — ’

  Simeon chuckled. ‘Still the same old temper, Bertrand.’

  Alaïs swallowed a smile as she put her hand on her father’s arm.

  ‘Paire,’ she said patiently. ‘You can see I am safe. Nothing happened.’

  He glanced down at her scratched hands. Alaïs quickly pulled the cloak over them. ‘Nothing much happened. It’s nothing. A slight cut.’

  ‘You were armed?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course.’

&n
bsp; ‘Then where—?’

  ‘I thought it unwise to walk through the streets of Besièrs so attired.’

  Alaïs looked at him with innocent eyes.

  ‘Quite,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘And no ill befell you? You are not hurt?’

  Aware of her bruised shoulder, Alaïs met his gaze. ‘Nothing,’ she lied. He frowned, although he looked slightly mollified. ‘How did you know we were here?’

  ‘I learned of it from Amiel de Coursan, the son of the seigneur, who most generously gave me escort.’

  Simeon was nodding. ‘He’s much admired in these parts.’

  You have been very fortunate,’ Pelletier said, still reluctant to let the matter drop. ‘Fortunate and very, very foolish. You could have been killed. I still cannot believe you — ’

  You were going to tell her how we met, Bertrand,’ said Simeon lightly. ‘The bells are no longer ringing, so the Council must now have started. We have a little time.’

  For a moment, her father continued to scowl. Then his shoulders dropped and resignation filled his features.

  ‘Very well, very well. Since you both wish it.’

  Alaïs exchanged a glance with Simeon. ‘He wears the ring like yours, Paire.’

  Pelletier smiled. ‘Simeon was recruited by Harif in the Holy Land, as I was, although some time earlier and our paths did not cross. As the threat from Saladin and his armies increased, Harif sent Simeon back to his native city of Chartres. I followed a few months later, taking the three parchments with me. The journey took more than a year, but when I finally reached Chartres, Simeon was waiting for me as Harif had promised.’ His memories made him smile. ‘How much I hated the cold and wet after the heat, the light of Jerusalem. It was so bleak, so forsaken a place. But Simeon and I, we understood one another from the start. His task was to bind the parchments into three separate volumes. While he toiled over the books, I came to admire his learning, his wisdom and his good humour.’

  ‘Bertrand, really,’ murmured Simeon, although Alaïs could see he liked the compliments well enough.

  ‘As for Simeon,’ Pelletier continued, ‘you will have to ask him yourself what he saw in an uncultured, unlettered soldier. It is not for me to judge.’

  ‘You were willing to learn, my friend, to listen,’ said Simeon softly. ‘That marked you out from most of your faith.’

  ‘I always knew the books were to be separated,’ Pelletier resumed. ‘As soon as Simeon’s work was completed, I received word from Harif that I was to return to my birthplace, where a position awaited as Intendant to the new Viscount Trencavel. Looking back with the hindsight of years, I find it extraordinary that I never asked what was to become of the other two books. I assumed Simeon was to keep one, although I never actually knew that for certain. The other? I didn’t even ask. My lack of curiosity shames me now. But, I simply took the book entrusted to me and travelled south.’

  ‘It should not shame you,’ said Simeon softly. ‘You did what was asked of you in good faith and with a strong heart.’

  ‘Before your appearance put all other thoughts from my mind, we were talking of the books, Alaïs.’

  Simeon cleared his throat. ‘Book,’ he said. ‘I have but one.

  ‘What?’ he said sharply. ‘But Harif’s letter . . . I took it to mean that both were still in your possession? Or that, at the very least, you knew where each was to be found?’

  Simeon shook his head. ‘Once, yes, but not for many years now. The Book of Numbers is here. As for the other, I confess I was hoping that you might have news to share with me.’

  ‘If you do not have it, then who does?’ Pelletier said urgently. ‘I assumed you had taken both with you when you left Chartres.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘But — ’

  Alaïs put her hand on her father’s arm. ‘Let Simeon explain.’

  For a moment, it looked as if Pelletier might lose his temper, then he nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said gruffly. ‘Tell your story.’

  ‘How like you she is, my friend,’ Simeon chuckled. ‘Shortly after your departure from Chartres, I received word from the Navigatairé that a guardian would come and take the second book, the Book of Potions, although nothing to indicate who that person might be. I held myself ready, waiting always. Time passed, I grew older, but still no one came. Then, in the year of your Lord, 1194 — shortly before the terrible fire that destroyed the cathedral and much of the city of Chartres — a man did come, a Christian, a knight, calling himself Philippe de Saint- Mauré.’

  ‘His name is familiar. He was in the Holy Land at the same time as I was, although we did not meet.’ He frowned. ‘Why had he waited so long?’

  ‘That, my friend, is the question I asked myself. Saint-Mauré passed me a merel, in the appropriate manner. He wore the ring that you and I both are honoured to wear. I had no reason to doubt him . . . and yet — ’ Simeon shrugged. ‘There was something false about him. His eyes were sharp, like a fox. I did not trust him. He did not seem to me the sort of man Harif would have chosen. There was no honour in him. So I decided, despite the tokens of good faith he carried, that I should test him.’

  ‘How so?’ The words had slipped out before she could stop them.

  ‘Alaïs,’ her father warned.

  ‘It is all right, Bertrand. I pretended not to understand. I wrung my hands, humble, apologetic, begging his pardon but he must have confused me with someone else. He drew his sword.’

  ‘Which confirmed your suspicion he was not who or what he claimed to be.’

  ‘He threatened and railed against me, but my servants came and he was outnumbered, so he had no choice but to withdraw.’ Simeon leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘As soon as I was sure he had gone, I wrapped the two books inside a bundle of old clothes and took shelter with a Christian family nearby who I trusted not to betray me. I could not decide what to do for the best. I was not certain of what I knew. Was he an impostor? Or was he indeed a guardian, but one whose heart had been blackened by greed or the promise of power and wealth? Had he betrayed us? If the former, then there was yet a chance that the real guardian would come to Chartres and find me gone. If the latter, I felt it my duty to find out what I could. Even now, I do not know if I chose wisely.’

  ‘You did what you thought was right,’ said Alaïs, ignoring the warning look from her father telling her to keep silent. ‘No man can do more.’

  ‘Right or wrong, the fact is I did not leave for two days more. Then the mutilated body of a man was found floating in the river Eure. His eyes and tongue had been put out. The rumour spread he was a knight in the service of the eldest son of Charles d’Evreux, whose lands are not far from Chartres.’

  ‘Philippe de Saint- Mauré.’

  Simeon nodded. ‘The Jews were blamed for the murder. Straight away the reprisals started. I was a convenient scapegoat. Word spread that they were coming for me. There were witnesses, they claimed, who’d seen Saint-Mauré at my door, witnesses who would swear that we argued and blows were exchanged. This decided me. Maybe this Saint- Mauré was who he said he was. Maybe he was an honest man, maybe not. It no longer mattered. He was dead — I believed — because of what he had discovered about the Labyrinth Trilogy. His death and the manner of it persuaded me that there were others involved. That the secret of the Grail had indeed been betrayed.’

  ‘How did you escape?’ asked Alaïs.

  ‘My servants were already gone, and safe I hoped. I hid until the following morning. As soon as the gates of the city were opened, having shaved my beard, I slipped out in the guise of an elderly woman. Esther came with me.’

  ‘So you were not there as they were building the stone labyrinth in the new cathedral?’ said Pelletier. Alaïs was mystified to see he was smiling, as if at some private joke. ‘You have not seen it.’

  What is it?’ she demanded.

  Simeon chuckled, addressing himself only to Pelletier. ‘No, although I hear it has served its purpose well. Many are draw
n there to that ring of dead stone. They look, they search, not understanding that only a false secret lies beneath their feet.’

  What is this labyrinth?’ repeated Alaïs.

  Still they paid her no attention.

  ‘I would have given you shelter in Carcassona. A roof over your head, protection. Why did you not come to me?’

  ‘Believe me, Bertrand, I wanted nothing more. But you forget how different the north was from these more tolerant lands of the Pays d’Oc. I could not travel freely, my friend. Life was hard for Jews at that time. We were under curfew, our businesses were regularly attacked and looted.’ He paused for breath. ‘Besides, I never would have forgiven myself if I had led them — whoever they might be — to you. When I fled Chartres that night, I had no thought of where I was heading. The safest course of action seemed to be to disappear until the fuss had died down. In the event, the fire drove all other matters out of my mind.’

  ‘How did you find yourself in Besièrs?’ said Alaïs, determined to rejoin the conversation. ‘Did Harif send you here?’

  Simeon shook his head. ‘It was chance and good fortune, Alaïs, not design. I journeyed first to Champagne, where I passed the winter. The following spring, as soon as the snows had melted, I headed south. I was lucky enough to fall in with a group of English Jews, fleeing persecution in their own land. They were heading for Besièrs. It seemed as good a destination as any. The city had a reputation for tolerance — Jews were in positions of trust and authority, our learning, our skills were respected. Its proximity to Carcassona meant that I would be on hand if Harif needed me.’ He turned to Bertrand. ‘God, in his wisdom, knows how hard it has been knowing that you were but a few days’ ride away, but caution and wisdom dictated it had to be thus.’

  He sat forward, his black eyes alive. ‘Even then there were verses, lays, circulating in the courts of the North. In Champagne, the troubadours and minstrels were singing of a magical cup, a life-giving elixir, too close to the truth to be ignored.’ Pelletier nodded. He too had heard such songs. ‘So weighing all things in the balance, it was safer to keep myself apart. I would never have forgiven myself if I had led them to your door, my friend.’