The mystic rose cc-3

by Stephen Lawhead

  'Then you will give us the cup?' said de Bracineaux, his tone rising to a demand.

  'If the archbishop assures me in the name of his holy and sacred office that all he has told me is true, and that this has been ordained by his superiors in the faith,' Annora regarded Bertrano closely, 'then, yes, I will deliver the Sacred Cup of Christ to you.'

  'Abbess, no -' objected Cait, dismayed by what she was hearing. She reached out to take Annora's arm, as if to protest the decision. De Bracineaux saw the movement, and his hand snaked out, seizing her by the wrist.

  'I think,' he said, 'the abbess has made a wise decision.'

  Revolted by the touch, Cait jerked her hand free from his grasp. As she did so, the hood slipped back on her head and the side of her face came into view. She quickly replaced it, but de Bracineaux continued to stare at her.

  The archbishop also saw, and opened his mouth to speak, but the abbess took Cait by the shoulder and turned her towards the door. 'Wait for me outside, sister.' As Cait moved away, the abbess turned to face the archbishop. 'Well? What is your answer?'

  'Good abbess,' said Bertrano, watching as Cait departed, 'I am Archbishop of Santiago de Compostela, and however much I might wish it was otherwise at this moment, all I have said of this matter is true. However loathsome it is to find myself in agreement with the commander, nevertheless, on my holy and sacred office, I do assure you of my veracity. But know that it is with a heavy and contrite heart that I do so.'

  'Satisfied?' demanded de Bracineaux.

  'You shall have the cup,' Annora repeated. 'I will deliver it to you following our last Holy Communion. You understand, I must allow the sisters of my order a chance to say farewell to the Sacred Vessel. The service will be held tonight at the convent, and we will bring the Holy Chalice tomorrow morning.'

  'Splendid,' sighed the archbishop, much relieved. 'We will await this historic occasion with God's own patience.'

  'Better still,' countered de Bracineaux, 'we will come and retrieve the relic, and save you the trouble of bringing it to us.'

  'Thank you, but that will not be necessary,' the abbess declined. 'Instead, I will insist that you respect the hallowed tradition of our order which does not allow men to set foot within the boundaries of the convent.'

  Cait glanced back as she opened the door to step outside. She heard Archbishop Bertrano say, 'Let it be as you say. Until tomorrow then.' And then she was through the door and away.

  They were silent on the way back to the abbey. The short winter day ended, and picking their way along the trail in the deepening twilight was difficult work, so it was not until the moon rose and the stars came out that the way grew easier. Upon reaching the upper path, the abbess turned and waited for Cait to join her. 'You do not agree with my decision.'

  'I did not say that,' Cait replied.

  'No,' allowed Annora, 'but your silence is most eloquent. You think I am wrong to give it to them.'

  'I do, yes.'

  'Do you also see that I have no choice in the matter?' When Cait did not respond the abbess stopped walking. 'Listen to me, Caitriona; it is ordained. Oh, yes, I do believe so. Despite whatever you may think of the instruments God has chosen to perform this work, the fact remains: Archbishop Bertrano wrote a letter to the pope, who has entrusted the Templars to carry out his wishes.' She softened, placing a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. 'They would have come for the cup in any event.' Cait made to protest, but the abbess raised a hand in admonition. 'The pope is my superior before God. I must obey.'

  'Regardless of the consequences?' Cait asked bitterly. 'I thought God had chosen me to be the next guardian of the cup.' She thrust her hands out to show the red welts on her wrists. 'I was chosen. That is what you said.'

  'Caitriona, the ways of God are beyond reckoning. Even so, I know he is at work in this. We come to him with the shattered remains of our best intentions, and he gathers all the broken pieces, reforms and reshapes them, and makes them new according to his purposes. He is able to achieve his will in the world, never doubt it.'

  There was nothing more to be said, so they continued in silence. The abbess knew the last stretch of the path along the fields, and moved quickly; Cait followed, her spirit in turmoil. True, she had already decided that she could not become the next Guardian of the Chalice; yet she was far from prepared to see de Bracineaux get his profaning hands on the sacred object. She did not see how she could prevent that now. The abbess had spoken and that was that.

  Although night was hurrying on, and they were cold, hungry, and exhausted from their long climb, upon their return to the abbey the abbess bade Cait to sound the bell to gather the sisters. When they were all assembled in the refectory, Annora announced, 'Tonight a strange and portentous thing has happened. The Archbishop of Santiago de Compostela has arrived in the village with a charge from His Holiness the Pope to take possession of our Blessed Cup.' A fretful murmur coursed through the assembled nuns. 'As abbess of this order, I am sworn to obey, and have pledged my assent to the pope's wishes.'

  Some of the sisters took this hard. They raised their voices and stretched out their hands, pleading to know if there was not some other way. The abbess turned a deaf ear to their cries. 'Peace, dear sisters,' Annora continued. 'Cease your pleading and have faith. All shall be well. I have requested a last communion with the cup, and it has been granted. Each sister will partake of the cup this night. Now, I want all of you to go and wash, and put on your best habits; let us pay a reverent and joyful farewell to the Holy Cup we have protected so long.'

  The sisters did as they were told, and were soon gathering in the yard outside the refectory, each with a candle to light the way to the chapel. The gently flickering gleam on the snow mirrored the heavens as the nuns stood waiting. One of the sisters began to sing, and all quickly joined in, their voices ringing in the crisp, cold air. They sounded like a heavenly choir, Cait thought, as the angelic sound swirled up and up into the moon-bright sky.

  When all were assembled, the abbess led them to the chapel cut into the rock of the mountain. They processed along the deep-shadowed passages, the song echoing down unseen corridors and walls round about, until they entered the cavernous sanctuary where they silently formed a wide circle around the altar.

  After lighting the altar candles, the abbess turned to the nuns and said, 'Beloved Sisters in Christ, for generations beyond counting our order has remained faithful to its calling. Tonight, our long vigil of obedience is at an end. Tomorrow we will deliver Our Lord's Sacred Chalice to the agents of the pope, and a new day of God's grace will dawn.'

  These words brought tears to the eyes of many of the older nuns, and a gentle sniffling could be heard around the candlelit ring.

  'Though the cup shall no longer form the centre point of our life here in the abbey, nevertheless life will go on. What our duty shall be, we cannot yet tell. But I know that whatever is given us, we will strive to serve God with the same humility and faith that have distinguished our order from its beginning to this day.

  'My dear sisters, your tears show that you have borne your duty with loving hearts, and this is right and good. But do not give in to sorrow; rather let your hearts be glad. For surely, this is the long-awaited sign that the Day of the Lord is upon us; our redemption is drawing near.'

  Here the old abbess turned to face the altar; she knelt briefly, and then approached the great golden cross which occupied the altar top. Placing her hands on either side of the cross, she gently pressed the hidden catch and the door opened in the base. Making the sign of the cross-once, twice, three times, while saying a simple prayer for purity-she then withdrew the holy relic from its hiding place in the base of the cross. Turning to the sisters, she raised the chalice high and said, 'This will be the last time we partake of the Blessed Cup together. Let us do so with the love of Our Lord in our hearts, and the prayer on our lips that God's mighty purpose shall achieve its fulfilment in our sight.'

  Taking the cup, she bowed her head over it
and stood for a long time in silent prayer; then, eyes closed, she raised her face towards Heaven and said, 'Father of Lights, in whom there is no darkness at all, nor shadow of turning: we, the humblest of your many servants, greet you with gladness, and glory in the greatness of your holy name even as we remember the countless blessings you have showered upon us throughout these many years. Tonight, according to your will which has been revealed to us through your emissary on earth, we lay down our duty of care and relinquish the charge we have long maintained. Know that we have only ever sought the pleasure of your service, O Lord, and we ask you to look kindly on the work of your servants, for the sake of your Son, Our Saviour.'

  Then, beginning with the oldest member of the order, Abbess Annora took the cup to the sisters and gave them to drink, lingering before each one, speaking softly, offering words of comfort and hope. Cait, standing next to Alethea, watched as the Holy Vessel made its slow way around the circle and wondered if she, along with her sister, would be included in the sacred rite.

  As the cup came nearer, she heard Alethea praying to herself, and so bent her head as well. But what to say? Her thoughts and feelings were in such a ferment of confusion she did not know how to pray. To honour the abbess, she must go against her call by the White Priest; yet, to obey the White Priest, she must betray the abbess. In the end, she fell back on her first, and most heartfelt desire. Lord of Hosts, and Ruler of Destinies, she prayed, a great injustice has taken place; the blood of my father, your servant, cries out to be avenged. You, whose judgement against the wicked is everlasting, make me the instrument of your vengeance. Lord, hear my prayer.

  Voices sounded in the passageway. There was a shout. She looked up and saw men with torches swarming into the sanctuary. In the wildly flickering light, she caught a glimpse of a red cross on a white cloak and knew the Templars had come to take their prize.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  The rock-cut sanctuary was suddenly filled with Templar knights. Swords drawn, they rushed for the altar. The circle of nuns collapsed into a tightly huddled knot around the abbess and the Holy Cup. Within moments they were surrounded by the white-cloaked knights. Some of the frightened sisters cried out in terror, others fell to their knees, hands clasped in desperate prayer, as the naked blades encircled them.

  From the centre of the close-crowded mass, Cait observed the nearest knights. Faces tight in the lurid light, they stared with oddly hesitant severity at the quaking nuns. Young men for the most part, they were not yet jaded by the constant warring of their order, and unused to attacking women-much less nuns. They glanced guiltily at one another, growing more uncertain of their duty with every passing moment. Someone called a calming order from across the sanctuary; Cait looked out and saw Sergeant Gislebert approach, a torchbearer on either side.

  As he drew near, the abbess pressed the Holy Cup into Cait's hands, saying, 'I will speak to him.'

  Taking the chalice, she felt a mild burning sensation in the marks of her stigmata, as if the sympathetic wounds in her hands and feet and side were aroused by the nearness of the Holy Vessel. The abbess turned and pushed through the protective cluster of distraught sisters to address the sergeant. 'What is this?' she demanded angrily. Before he could reply, she said, "You invade sanctified ground like brigands and violate the custom of our order to interrupt a sacred and holy sacrament by force of arms.' She stepped before him, pushing the point of his sword aside with a bare hand. 'By what authority do you perpetrate this sacrilege?'

  Abbess Annora stood defiant before him, holding her frail body erect, her whole being ablaze with holy anger. The sergeant was taken aback by the force of her outrage. He looked around as if seeking the aid of his absent superior.

  'I demand an answer!' said the abbess, her voice sharp as a slap. Some of the Templars shifted uneasily in their places.

  'By the authority of the Master of Jerusalem,' replied Gislebert unhappily, 'and under his command, we have come for the Sacred Cup.'

  'I agreed with your commander that we would bring it in the morning,' said the abbess. 'We are not finished with our observance.'

  'He wants it now,' muttered the sergeant dully. 'Where is it?'

  'The Blessed Cup is in my keeping until I place it in the hands of the archbishop,' Annora said. 'And I say when that will be. Until then, you shall not touch it.'

  Gislebert, out of his depth with this spirited woman, seemed at a loss to know how to proceed in this confrontation. He looked across at the trembling nuns and came to a decision at last. 'You can take up the matter with the Master.' Turning away, he called a command to his knights. 'Bring them,' he shouted. 'Bring them all!'

  The entire order, with the abbess at its head, was driven out into the frigid night and made to toil down the steep mountain pathways by the fitful light of the Templar torches. The knights, embarrassed to be riding while the nuns were made to walk, offered their mounts to the oldest captives, and the rest dismounted at intervals and took up places along the way in the more perilous steeps where, due to ice, or loose rock, the path had become unsound. Thus, they lit the way for the order as, silent but full of reproachful glances, the Grey Marys made their slow way down to the village.

  Night was far gone when they reached the valley. Sergeant Gislebert marched his straggling charges through the silent village to the church. By the light of low-burning candles on the altar, Cait could see that the people were still there-most of them asleep in heaps on the floor. Grand Commander de Bracineaux dozed in his chair, and Archbishop Bertrano was stretched out on the low platform beneath the altar. Baron D'Anjou came awake as the door opened; he stood and nudged the Templar commander, saying, 'Wake up, de Bracineaux. The sergeant has returned with your lady friend.'

  'At last,' said the commander, sitting up as the nuns entered, limping and staggering from their enforced ordeal in the dead of night. He took one look at the line of exhausted women, and cried, 'What have you done, Gislebert? I send you for the relic and you bring the entire convent.'

  'Just so,' mused d'Anjou, a perverse smile playing on his lips. 'This affair ripens most deliciously.'

  The entrance of the sisters wakened the sleeping archbishop and townsfolk. They roused themselves and stood. Some of the villagers, seeing the distress of the sisters, all of whom they knew and loved, ran to their aid; they sat the women down, wrapped them in cloaks and mantles and chafed their hands to warm them. Cait and Alethea found places at the back of the assembly near the door. Where are they? Cait wondered, quickly surveying the dim interior for any sign of her knights. What has happened to them?

  Despite her fatigue, the abbess strode to where de Bracineaux sat, and said, 'We agreed that I would deliver the cup tomorrow in my own good time. Why have you violated our agreement?'

  The archbishop, alarmed by this unexpected development, rushed to intercede. 'What has happened? Dear sister abbess, come, sit you down.' To de Bracineaux, he said, 'What is this, commander? What have you done to these poor women?'

  'He ordered his soldiers to storm the convent,' the abbess declared loudly, 'and bear the Blessed Cup away by force.'

  'Is this true?' demanded the archbishop, aghast at the accusation.

  'Be quiet,' snapped de Bracineaux irritably.

  Undeterred, the abbess said, 'You would take by force that which was to be freely given? What manner of man are you, Commander de Bfacineaux?'

  'An impatient man.' He glared at the abbess. 'I might have granted you the condition we agreed upon if you had not dealt falsely with me.'

  'Preposterous!' said the abbess.

  'Oh?' sneered the commander. 'Do you deny that you shelter a known enemy beneath the cloak of your order?' He thrust an accusing finger at Cait. 'That one-bring her here.'

  As a nearby Templar worked his way towards them, Cait removed the cup from inside her robe, where she had carried it lest she stumble and drop it while on the trail. 'Keep this out of sight,' she whispered, passing the Sacred Vessel to Alethea. She stepped out from amo
ng the sisters at the rear of the church and took her place beside the abbess. 'So, you thought I would not recognize you a second time,' de Bracineaux said. 'Most unwise, lady. Most unwise.'

  Levelling his malignant gaze at Cait, he said, 'See here, archbishop, this is the woman who stole your letter. You know her, I think.'

  'I have seen her before, yes,' the archbishop confessed. To Cait, he said, 'Lady, is it true? Did you steal the letter?'

  'Why ask her?' demanded de Bracineaux angrily. 'You know the truth of it-how else could she have cozened you with lies about my death?'

  'Let her speak,' said Bertrano. 'I would hear it from her own lips.' Turning once more to Caitriona, he said, 'Is it true, lady? Did you steal the letter from Commander de Bracineaux?'

  'I did,' answered Cait simply. 'And I would do it again.',

  'Why?'

  'What difference does it make?' charged de Bracineaux, rounding on her again. 'She has admitted the theft, and stands condemned out of her own mouth. She must be punished for her crime-and all who aided her in this deception shall be punished as well.' He glared around the church as if he meant to begin seizing villagers then and there.

  Brother Timotheus pushed his way forward. 'Heaven forbid!' he cried. 'We know nothing of any crime. This lady has shown us only kindness and respect. She is a true noblewoman in every way.'

  'No doubt she can appear so when it suits her,' said de Bracineaux smugly. 'The archbishop and I know otherwise.'

  Archbishop Bertrano turned sorrowful eyes on Cait and asked again, 'Why did you take the letter? Was it to steal the Holy Cup for yourself?'

  'I did take the letter,' she replied. 'I went to the commander's room that night to avenge the murder of my father, Lord Duncan of Caithness. Renaud de Bracineaux killed him in Constantinople,' she said evenly, pointing to the commander. 'I wanted to find a way to hurt him, and I allowed myself to imagine the Blessed Cup would help me to do that.' She paused and looked to Abbess Annora. 'I was wrong.'