Heretic

The path was steep and wet. Thomas kept glancing to his left, looking for enemy, but none showed on the slope. He hurried, lost his footing, saw the wall so close ahead and climbed on. Genevieve was in the gate now, looking back for him, and Thomas scrambled the last few feet and ran through the splintered gate, following Genevieve down the dark alley and out into the square. A crossbow bolt spat into the cobbles, bounced up, and someone was shouting and he saw men-at-arms in the main street, was aware of an arrow sizzling past him just as he saw that half the gate arch had been destroyed, that a pile of rubble half obscured the castle's entrance, that a pile of naked corpses was lying in the square under the castle's curtain wall and that crossbow quarrels were skidding across the stones. Then he jumped the rubble, bounced off the remaining part of the arch and was safe inside the yard where his feet flew from beneath him because the stones were slippery. He slid a few feet, then banged against a timber barricade stretching across the yard. And Sir Guillaume, one eyed, evil-looking, was grinning at him. Took your time coming, didn't you?" the Frenchman said. Bloody hell. Thomas said. The coredors were all there except for the woman who had fallen from the weir. Genevieve was safe. I thought you'd need help. he said.

You think you can help us?“ Sir Guillaume said. He lifted Thomas to his feet and enfolded his friend in an embrace. I thought you were dead. he said, and then, embarrassed at this display of feeling, he jerked his head at the coredors and their children. Who are they?”

Bandits. Thomas said, hungry bandits."

There's food in the upper hall. Sir Guillaume said, and then Jake and Sam were there, grinning, and they escorted Thomas and Genevieve up the stairs where the coredors stared at the cheese and salt meat. Eat. Sir Guillaume said.

Thomas remembered the naked corpses in the town square. Were they his men? Sir Guillaume shook his head. Bastards attacked us. he said, and the bastards died. So we stripped them and threw them over the wall. Rats are eating them now. Big bastards, they are."

The rats?"

Big as cats. So what happened to you?"

Thomas told him as he ate. Told of going to the monastery, of Planchard's death, of the fight in the wood, and of the slow journey back to Castillon d'Arbizon. I knew Robbie wasn't here. he explained,“ so I reckoned only my friends would be left.” Nice to die among friends. Sir Guillaume said. He glanced up at the hall's high narrow windows, judging the progress of the day by the angle of the light. Gun won't fire for another couple of hours."

They're knocking down the gate arch?"

That's what they seem to be doing. Sir Guillaume said, and maybe they want to bring down the whole curtain wall? That would make it easier for them to get into the courtyard. It'll take them a month, though.“ He looked at the coredors. And you bring me extra mouths to feed.”

Thomas shook his head. They'll all fight, even the women. And the children can pick up the crossbow bolts.“ There were plenty of those strewn about the castle and, once the vanes had been straightened, they would serve the coredors” crossbows well enough. First thing, though,“ Thomas went on, is to get rid of that bloody gun.”

Sir Guillaume grinned. You think I haven't thought about doing that? You reckon we've just been sitting on our backsides playing dice? But how do you do it? A sally? If I take a dozen men down the street half of them will be spitted by quarrels by the time we reach the tavern. Can't be done, Thomas."

Kindling," Thomas said.

Kindling," Sir Guillaume repeated flatly.

Kindling and twine,“ Thomas said. Make fire arrows. They're not storing their damned gunpowder in the open air, are they? It's in a house. And houses burn. So we burn the bloody town down. All of it. I doubt our arrows can reach the houses by the gun, but if we get an east wind the fire will spread fast enough. It'll slow them anyway.”

Sir Guillaume stared at him. You're not as daft as you look, are you?"

Then a gasp made both men turn round. Genevieve, sitting close by, had been toying with the quarrel-case that Thomas had snatched up at the mill. The lid, which fitted neatly over the circular leather case, had been sealed with wax and that had intrigued her so she had scraped the wax away, lifted the lid, and found some thing inside, something which had been carefully wrapped in linen and padded with sawdust. She had shaken the sawdust off, then unwrapped the linen.

And everyone in the room now gazed at her in awe.

For she had found the Grail.

Joscelyn decided he hated Guy Vexille. Hated the man's air of competence, the slight sneer that always seemed to be on his face and which, without words being said, seemed to condemn what ever Joscelyn did. He also hated the man's piety and self-control. Joscelyn would have liked nothing better than to order Vexille away, but his men were a valuable addition to the besieging force. When the assault came, when there was a charge across the rubble of the castle gateway, Vexille's black-cloaked men-at-arms could well mean the difference between defeat and victory. So Joscelyn endured Vexille's presence.

Robbie also endured it. Vexille had killed his brother and Robbie had sworn to take vengeance for that, but by now Robbie was so confused that he did not know what his oaths meant any more. He had sworn to go on pilgrimage, yet here he was, still in Castillon d'Arbizon; he had sworn to kill Guy Vexille, yet the man lived; he had sworn allegiance to Joscelyn, and now he recognized that Joscelyn was a brainless fool, brave as a pig, but with no trace of religion or honour. The one man he had never sworn an oath to was Thomas, yet that was the man he wished well in the unfolding tragedy.

And at least Thomas lived. He had managed to cross the weir, despite the guard Guy Vexille had placed on the mill. Vexille had come to Castillon d'Arbizon, discovered the river crossing was unguarded, and put the sour, dour Charles Bessieres in command at the mill. Bessieres had accepted the order because it kept him away from both Vexille and Joscelyn, but then he had failed, and Robbie had been astonished at the delight he had felt when he realized that Thomas had again outwitted them, and that Thomas lived and was back in the castle. He had seen Thomas run across the square, the air humming with crossbow bolts, and he had almost cheered when he saw his friend make the safety of the castle.

Robbie had seen Genevieve too and he did not know what to think about that. In Genevieve he saw something he wanted so badly that it was like an ache. Yet he dared not admit it, for Joscelyn would just laugh at him. If Robbie had a choice, and his oaths meant he had none, he would have gone to the castle and begged Thomas's forgiveness, and doubtless he would have died there.

For Thomas, though he lived, was trapped. Guy Vexille, cursing that Charles Bessieres had failed at such a simple task, had put men in the woods across the river so that there was now no escape across the weir. The only way out of the castle was down the main street and out the town's west gate or north to the smaller gate by Saint Gallic's church, which opened onto the water meadows where the townsfolk grazed their cattle, and Joscelyn and Vexille, between them, had well over a hundred men-at-arms waiting for just such an attempt. Crossbowmen were placed in every vantage point in the town, and meanwhile the gun would gnaw and hammer and undermine the castle-gate bastions until, in time, there would be a rough path across the ruins and into the castle's heart. Then the slaughter could begin and Robbie must watch his friends die.

Half the castle's gateway was already down and Signor Gioberti had now realigned his bulbous gun so that its missiles would strike the right-hand side of the arch. The Italian reckoned it would take a week to bring the whole gate down, and he had advised Joscelyn that it would be best to spend still more time on widening the breach by bringing down those sections of the curtain wall either side of the ruined arch so that the attackers were not channelled into a narrow space which the archers could fill with feathered death.

Pavises. Joscelyn said, and he had ordered the town's two carpenters to make more of the big willow shields that would protect the crossbowmen as they ran to the breach. Those cross bowmen could then shoot up at the archers while the men-at arms streamed past them. One week,“ Joscelyn told the Italian, you've got one week to bring down the gate, then we attack.” He wanted it over fast for the siege was proving more expensive and more complicated than he had ever imagined. It was not just the fighting that was difficult, but he had to pay carters to bring hay and oats for all the men-at-arms" horses, and he had to send men to scavenge for scarce food in a district that had already been plundered by the enemy, and each day brought new unforeseen problems that gnawed at Joscelyn's confidence. He just wanted to attack

and get the wretched business over.

But the defenders attacked first. At dawn, on the day after Thomas reached Castillon d'Arbizon, when there was a chill north easterly wind blowing under a leaden sky, fire arrows seared from the tower ramparts to plunge into the town's thatch. Arrow after arrow trailed smoke, and the besiegers woke to the danger as the townfolk screamed for hooks and water. Men used the long handled hooks to pull the thatch from the roofs, but more arrows came and within minutes three houses were ablaze and the wind was pushing the flames towards the gate where the gun was already loaded and the loam was setting.

The powder! The powder!" Signor Gioberti shouted, and his men began carrying the precious barrels out of the house near the gun, and smoke billowed across them and frightened folk got in their way so that one man slipped and spilt a whole barrel of unmixed powder across the roadway. Joscelyn came from his commandeered house and shouted at his men to fetch water, while Guy Vexille was ordering that buildings should be pulled down to make a firebreak, but the townspeople held the soldiers up and now the fires were roaring, a dozen more houses were ablaze and their thatch had become furnaces that spread from roof to roof. Panicked birds fluttered inside the smoke and rats, in their scores, fled out of thatch and cellar doors. Many of the besieging cross bowmen had made themselves eyries inside the roofs from where they could shoot through holes piercing the thatch, and they now stumbled down from the attics. Pigs squealed as they were roasted alive and then, just when it seemed the whole town would burn and when the first flying sparks were settling on the roofs near the cannon, the heavens opened.

A crash of thunder tore across the sky and then the rain slashed down. It fell so hard that it blotted out the view of the castle from the town gate. It turned the street into a watercourse, it soaked the powder barrels and it extinguished the fires. Smoke still poured upwards, but the rain hissed on glowing embers. The gutters ran with black water and the fires died.

Galat Lorret, the senior consul, came to Joscelyn and wanted to know where the townsfolk should shelter. Over a third of the houses had lost their roofs and the others were crowded with billeted soldiers. Your lordship must find us food,“ he told Joscelyn, and we need tents.” Lorret was shivering, perhaps with fear or else from the onset of a fever, but Joscelyn had no pity for the man. Indeed he was so enraged at being given advice by a commoner that he struck Lorret, then struck him again, driving him back into the street with a flurry of blows and kicks. You can starve!“ Joscelyn screamed at the consul. Starve and shiver. Bastard!” He punched the old man so hard that Lorret's jaw was broken. The consul lay in the wet gutter, his official robes soaking with the ash-blackened water. A young woman came from the undamaged house behind him; she had glazed eyes and a flushed face. She vomited suddenly, pouring the contents of her stomach into the gutter beside Lorret. Get out!“ Joscelyn screamed at her. Put your filth somewhere else!”

Then Joscelyn saw that Guy Vexille, Robbie Douglas and a dozen men-at-arms were staring open-mouthed at the castle. Just staring. The rain was lessening and the smoke was clearing and the castle's shattered frontage could be seen again, and Joscelyn turned to see what they gazed at. He could see the armour hanging from the keep's battlements, the mail coats stripped from his dead men and hung there as an insult, and he could see the captured shields, including Robbie's red heart of Douglas, hanging upside down among the hauberks, but Guy Vexille was not staring at those trophies. Instead he was looking at the lower rampart, at the half broken parapet above the castle gate, and there, in the rain, was gold.

Robbie Douglas risked the archers in the castle by walking up the street to see the golden object more clearly. No arrows came at him. The castle appeared deserted, silent. He walked almost to the square until he could see the thing clearly and he peered in disbelief and then, with tears in his eyes, he fell to his knees. The Grail," he said, and suddenly other men had joined him and were kneeling on the cobbles.

The what?" Joscelyn asked.

Guy Vexille pulled off his hat and knelt. He stared upwards and it seemed to him that the precious cup glowed.

For in the smoke and destruction, shining like the truth, was the Grail.

The cannon did not fire again that day. Joscelyn was not happy about that. The new Count of Berat did not care that the defenders had a cup, they could have had the whole true cross, the tail of Jonah's whale, the baby Jesus's swaddling clothes, the crown of thorns and the pearly gates themselves and he would happily have buried the whole lot under the castle's shattered masonry, but the priests with the besiegers went on their knees to him, and Guy Vexille did the same, and that obeisance from a man he feared gave Joscelyn pause.

We have to talk with them," Vexille said.

They are heretics,“ the priests said, and the Grail must be saved from them.”

What am I supposed to do?“ Joscelyn demanded. Just ask for it?”

You must bargain for it," Guy Vexille said.

Bargain!" Joscelyn bridled at the thought, then an idea came. The Grail? If the thing existed, and everyone about him believed it did, and if it really was here, in his domain, then there was money to be made from it. The cup would need to go to Berat, of course, where fools like his dead uncle would pay mightily to see it. Big jars at the castle gate, he thought, and lines of pilgrims throwing in money to be allowed to see the Grail. There was, he thought, profit in that gold, and plainly the garrison wanted to talk for, after displaying the cup, they had shot no more arrows. I will go and talk with them. Vexille said.

Why you?" Joscelyn demanded.

Then you go, my lord,“ Vexille said deferentially. But Joscelyn did not want to face the men who had held him prisoner. The next time he saw them he wanted them to be dead, and so he waved Vexille on his way. But you'll offer them nothing!” he warned. Not unless I agree to it."

I will make no agreement,“ Vexille said, without your permission.” Orders were given that the crossbowmen were not to shoot and then Guy Vexille, bare-headed and without any weapons, walked up the main street past the smoking wreckage of the houses. A man was sitting in an alley and Vexille noticed that his face was sweating and blotched with dark lumps and his clothes were stained with vomit. Guy hated such sights. He was a fastidious man, scrupulously clean, and the stench and diseases of mankind repelled him. they were evidences of a sinful world, one that had forgotten God. Then he saw his cousin come onto the broken rampart and take the Grail away.

A moment later Thomas crossed the rubble that filled the gateway. Like Guy he wore no sword, nor had he brought the Grail. He wore his mail, which was rusting now, frayed at the hem and crusted with dirt. He had a short beard for he had long lost his razor and it gave him, Guy thought, a grim and desperate look. Thomas,“ Guy greeted him, then gave a small bow, cousin.” Thomas looked past Vexille to see three priests watching from halfway down the street. The last priests who came here excom municated me. he said.

What the Church does. Guy said, it can undo. Where did you find it?"

For a moment it looked as if Thomas would not answer, then he shrugged. Under the thunder. he said, at the lightning's heart.“ Guy Vexille smiled at the evasion. I do not even know. he said, whether you have the Grail. Perhaps it is a trick? You put a golden cup on the wall and we just make an assumption. Suppose we are wrong? Prove it to me, Thomas.”

I can't."

Then show it to me. Guy begged. He spoke humbly.

Why should I?"

Because the Kingdom of Heaven depends on it." Thomas seemed to sneer at that answer, then he looked curiously at his cousin. Tell me something first. he said.

If I can."

Who was the tall, scarred man I killed at the mill?“ Guy Vexille frowned for it seemed a very strange question, but he could see no trap in it and he wanted to humour Thomas so he answered. His name was Charles Bessieres. he said cautiously, and he was the brother of Cardinal Bessieres. Why do you ask?”

Because he fought well. Thomas lied.

Is that all?"

He fought well, and he very nearly took the Grail from me. Thomas embroidered the untruth. I just wondered who he was. He shrugged and tried to work out why a brother of Cardinal Bessieres should have been carrying the Grail.

He was not a man worthy of having the Grail. Guy Vexille said. Am I?" Thomas demanded.

Guy ignored the hostile question. Show it to me. he pleaded. For the love of God, Thomas, show it to me."

Thomas hesitated, then he turned and raised a hand and Sir Guillaume, armoured in captured plate from head to foot and with a drawn sword, came from the castle with Genevieve. She carried the Grail and had a wine skin tied to her belt. Not too close to him,“ Thomas warned her, then looked back to Guy. You remember Sir Guillaume d'Evecque? Another man sworn to kill you?” We are meeting under a truce," Guy reminded him, then he nodded at Sir Guillaume whose only response was to spit on the cobbles. Guy ignored the gesture, gazing instead at the cup in the girl's hands.

It was a thing of ethereal, magical beauty. A thing of lace-like delicacy. A thing so far removed from this smoke-stinking town with its rat-chewed corpses that Guy had no doubts that this was the Grail. It was the most sought-after object in Christendom, the key to heaven itself, and Guy almost dropped to his knees in reverence. Genevieve took off the pearl-hung lid and tipped the stemmed gold goblet over Thomas's hands. A thick green glass cup fell out of the golden filigree and Thomas held it reverently. This is the Grail, Guy,“ he said. That golden confection was just made to hold it, but this is it.”

Guy watched it hungrily, but dared make no move towards it. Sir Guillaume wanted only the smallest excuse to lift his sword and ram it forward and Guy had no doubt that archers were watching him from behind the slits in the high tower. He said nothing as Thomas took the skin from Genevieve's belt and poured some wine into the cup. See?“ Thomas said, and Guy saw that the green had darkened with the wine, but that it also now possessed a golden sheen that had not been there before. Thomas let the wine skin drop to the ground and then, with his eyes on his cousin's eyes, he lifted the cup and drained it. Hic est enim sanguis meus, ” Thomas said angrily. They were the words of Christ. This is my blood.“ Then he gave the cup to Genevieve and she walked away with it, followed by Sir Guillaume. A heretic drinks from the Grail,” Thomas said, and there's worse to come.“ Worse?” Guy asked gently.

We shall put it under the gate arch,“ Thomas said. And when your cannon brings down the rest of the bastions then the Grail will be crushed. What you'll get is a twisted piece of gold and some broken glass.”

Guy Vexille smiled. The Grail cannot be broken, Thomas.“ Then you risk that belief. Thomas said angrily and turned away. Thomas! Thomas, I beg you,” Guy called. Listen to me.“ Thomas wanted to keep walking, but he reluctantly turned back for his cousin's tone had been pleading. It had been the voice of a broken man, and what did it hurt Thomas if he heard more? He had made the threat. If the attack continued then the Grail would be broken. Now, he supposed, he must let his cousin make what ever offer he wanted, though he did not intend to make that easy. Why should I listen,” he asked, to the man who killed my father? Who killed my woman?"

Listen to a child of God," Guy said.

Thomas almost laughed, but he stayed.

Guy took a breath, framing what he wanted to say. He stared up at the sky where low clouds threatened more rain. The world is beset by evil. he said, and the Church is corrupt, and the devil does his work unhindered. If we have the Grail we can change that. The Church can be cleansed, a new crusade can scour the world of sin. It will bring the Kingdom of Heaven to earth.“ He had been staring skywards as he spoke, but now looked at Thomas. That is all I want, Thomas.”

So my father had to die for that?"

Guy nodded. I wish it had not been necessary, but he was hiding the Grail. He was an enemy of God."

Thomas hated Guy then, hated him more than ever, hated him even though his cousin was speaking low and reasonably, his voice filled with emotion. Tell me. Thomas said, what you want now." Your friendship. Guy said.

Friendship!"

The Count of Berat is evil. Guy said. He's a bully, a fool, a man who ignores God. If you lead your men out of the castle I will turn on him. By nightfall, Thomas, you and I will be lords of this place, and tomorrow we shall go to Berat and reveal the Grail and invite all men of God to come to us.“ Guy paused, watching Thomas's hard face for any reaction to the words. March north with me. he went on, Paris will be next. We shall rid ourselves of that foolish Valois King. We shall take the world, Thomas, and open it to the love of God. Think of it, Thomas! All the grace and beauty of God poured onto the world. No more sadness, no more sin, just the harmony of God in a world of peace.” Thomas pretended to think about it, then frowned. I'll attack Joscelyn with you,“ he said, but I would want to talk with Abbot Planchard before I marched north.”

With Abbot Planchard?“ Guy could not hide his surprise. Why?” Because he's a good man. Thomas said, and I trust his advice." Guy nodded. Then I shall send for him. I can have him here by tomorrow.

Thomas felt such anger then that he could have attacked Guy with his bare fists, but he held the rage in check. You can have him here by tomorrow?" he asked instead.

If he'll come.

Doesn't have much choice, does he?“ Thomas said, the fury in his voice now. He's dead, cousin, and you killed him. I was there, in the ossuary, hiding. I heard you!”

Guy looked astonished, then incensed, but he had nothing to say.

You lie like a child. Thomas said scornfully. You lie about one good man's death? Then you lie about everything. He turned and walked away.

Thomas!" Guy called after him.

Thomas turned back. You want the Grail, cousin? Then you fight for it. Maybe just you and me? You and your sword against me and my weapon.

Your weapon?" Guy asked.

The Grail. Thomas said curtly and, ignoring his cousin's pleas, walked back to the castle.

So what did he offer?" Sir Guillaume asked.

All the kingdoms of the earth. Thomas said.

Sir Guillaume sniffed suspiciously. I smell something holy in that answer.

Thomas smiled. The devil took Christ into the wilderness and offered him all the kingdoms of the earth if he would give up his mission."

He should have accepted. Sir Guillaume said, and saved us a pile of trouble. So we can't leave?"

Not unless we fight our way out."

The ransom money?“ Sir Guillaume asked hopefully. I forgot to ask about it.”

Much bloody use you are. Sir Guillaume retorted in English, then he switched back to French and sounded more cheerful. But at least we have the Grail, eh? That's something!“ Do we?” Genevieve asked.

The two men turned to her. They were in the upper hall, bare of furniture now because the table and stools had been taken down to reinforce the barricade in the courtyard. All that was left was the big iron-bound chest that had the garrison's money inside and there was plenty of that after a season of raiding. Genevieve sat on the chest; she had the beautiful golden Grail with its green cup, but she also had the box that Thomas had brought from Saint Sever's monastery, and now she took the cup from its golden nest and placed it in the box. The lid would not close because the glass cup was too big. The box, whatever it might have been made for, had not been made for this Grail. Do we have the Grail?" she asked, and Thomas and Sir Guillaume stared at her as she showed how the cup would not fit in the box.

Of course it's the Grail. Sir Guillaume said dismissively. Thomas went to Genevieve and took the cup. He turned it in his hands. If my father did have the Grail. he asked, how did it end up with Cardinal Bessieres's brother?"

Who?" Sir Guillaume demanded.

Thomas stared at the green glass. He had heard that the Grail in Genoa Cathedral was made of green glass, and no one believed that was real. Was this the same grail? Or another green glass fake? The man I took it from. he said, was the brother of Cardinal Bessieres, and if he already had the Grail, then what was he doing in Castillon d'Arbizon? He would have taken it to Paris, or to Avignon.

Sweet Jesus Christ. Sir Guillaume said. You mean that isn't real?“ One way to find out. Thomas said, and he held the cup high. He saw the tiny specks of gold on the glass and he thought it was a beautiful thing, an exquisite thing, an old thing, but was it the real thing? And so he raised his hand higher, held the cup for another heartbeat and then let it drop to the floorboards. Where the green glass shattered into a thousand fragments. Sweet Jesus Christ. Sir Guillaume said,” sweet Jesus goddamned bloody Christ."

It was on the morning after the fire had burned out so much of Castillon d'Arbizon that the first people died. Some died in the night, some at dawn, and the priests were busy carrying the consecrated wafers to houses where they would offer the last rites. The shrieks of bereaved families were loud enough to wake Joscelyn who snarled at his squire to go and silence the wretched noise, but the squire, who slept on straw in a corner of Joscelyn's room, was shivering and sweating and his face had grown evil-looking dark lumps that made Joscelyn wince. Get out!" he shouted at the squire and then, when the young man did not move, he kicked him towards the door. Out! Out! Oh, Jesus! You shat yourself!

Get out!"

Joscelyn dressed himself, pulling breeches and a leather coat over his linen shirt. You're not ill, are you?" he said to the girl who had shared his bed.

No, lord."

Then get me bacon and bread, and mulled wine.“ Mulled wine?”

You're a serving girl, aren't you? So damn well serve me, then clean up that damned mess." He pointed at the squire's bed, then pulled on his boots and wondered why he had not been woken by the cannon which usually fired at cock-crow. The loam in the gun's barrel set overnight and signor Gioberti was of the opinion that the dawn shot did the most damage, yet this morning it had still not been fired. Joscelyn strode into the parlour of the house, shouting for the gunner.

He's sick." It was Guy Vexille who answered. He was sitting in

a corner of the room, sharpening a knife and evidently waiting for Joscelyn. There is a contagion."

Joscelyn strapped on his sword belt. Gioberti's sick?“ Guy Vexille sheathed the knife. He's vomiting, my lord, and sweating. He has swellings in his armpits and groin.” His men can fire the damned gun, can't they?“ Most of them are sick as well.”

Joscelyn stared at Vexille, trying to understand what he was hearing. The gunners are sick?"

Half the town seems to be sick,“ Vexille said, standing. He had washed, put on clean black clothes and oiled his long black hair so that it lay sleek along his narrow skull. I heard there was a pestilence. he said, but I didn't believe it. I was wrong, God forgive me.” A pestilence?" Joscelyn was scared now.

God punishes us,“ Vexille said calmly, by letting the devil loose, and we could not hope for a clearer sign from heaven. We have to assault the castle today, lord, seize the Grail and thus end the plague.”

Plague?“ Joscelyn asked, then heard a timid knock on the door and hoped it was the serving girl bringing him food. Come in, damn you,” he shouted, but instead of the girl it was Father Medous who looked frightened and nervous.

The priest went on his knees to Joscelyn. People are dying, lord," he said.

What in God's name do you expect me to do?“ Joscelyn asked. Capture the castle,” Vexille said.

Joscelyn ignored him, staring at the priest. Dying?" he asked helplessly.

Father Medous nodded. There were tears on his face. It is a pestilence, lord,“ he said. They sweat, vomit, void their bowels, show black boils and they're dying.”

Dying?" Joscelyn asked again.

Galat Lorret is dead; his wife is ill. My own housekeeper has the sickness.“ More tears rolled down Medous's face. It is in the air, lord, a pestilence.” He stared up at Joscelyn's blank, round face, hoping that his lord could help. It is in the air,“ he said again, and we need doctors, my lord, and only you can command them to come from Berat.”

Joscelyn pushed past the kneeling priest, ducked out into the street and saw two of his men-at-arms sitting in the tavern door with swollen faces running with sweat. They looked at him dully and he turned away, hearing the wailing and screeching of mothers watching their children sweat and die. Smoke from the previous day's fire drifted thin through the damp morning and everything seemed covered in soot. Joscelyn shivered, then saw Sir Henri Courtois, still healthy, coming from Saint Gallic's church and he almost ran and embraced the old man in his relief. You know what's happening?" Joscelyn asked.

There is a pestilence, my lord."

It's in the air, yes?" Joscelyn asked, snatching at what Father Medous had told him.

I wouldn't know,“ Sir Henri said tiredly, but I do know that more than a score of our men are sick with it, and three are already dead. Robbie Douglas is sick. He was asking for you, my lord. He begs you to find him a physician.”

Joscelyn ignored that request and sniffed the air instead. He could smell the remnants of the fires, the stench of vomit and dung and urine. They were the smells of any town, the everyday smells, yet somehow they seemed more sinister now. What do we do?" he asked helplessly.

The sick need help,“ Sir Henri said. They need physicians.” And grave diggers, he thought, but did not say it aloud. It's in the air. Joscelyn said yet again. The stink was rank now, besieging him, threatening him, and he felt a tremor of panic. He could fight a man, fight an army even, but not this silent insidious reek. We go. he decided. Any man untouched by the disease

will leave now. Now!"

Go?" Sir Henri was confused by the decision.

We go!“ Joscelyn said firmly. Leave the sick behind. Order the men to get ready and saddle their horses.”

But Robbie Douglas wants to see you. Sir Henri said. Joscelyn was Robbie's lord and so owed him the duty of care, but Joscelyn was in no mood to visit the sick. The sick could damn well look after themselves and he would save as many men from the horror as he could.

They left within the hour. A stream of horsemen galloped out of the town, fleeing the contagion and riding for the safety of Berat's great castle. Almost all of Joscelyn's crossbowmen, aban doned by their knights and men-at-arms, followed and many of the townsfolk were also leaving to find a refuge from the pestilence. A good number of Vexille's men vanished too, as did those

few gunners who were not touched by the plague. They abandoned Hell Spitter, stole sick men's horses and rode away. Of

Joscelyn's healthy men only Sir Henri Courtois stayed. He was middle-aged, he had lost his fear of death, and men who had served him for many years were lying in agony. He did not know what he could do for them, but what he could, he would. Guy Vexille went to Saint Gallic's church and ordered the women who were praying to the image of the saint and to the statue of the Virgin Mary to get out. He wanted to be alone with God and, though he believed the church was a place where a corrupted faith was practised, it was still a house of prayer and so he knelt by the altar and stared at the broken body of Christ that hung above the altar. The painted blood flowed thick from the awful wounds and Guy gazed at that blood, ignoring a spider that span a web between the lance cut in the Saviour's side and the outstretched left hand. You are punishing us,“ he said aloud,” scourging us, but if we do your will then you will spare us.“ But what was God's will? That was the dilemma, and he rocked back and forth on his knees, yearning for the answer. Tell me,” he told the man hanging on the cross, tell me what I must do."

Yet he knew already what he must do. he must seize the Grail and release its power; but he hoped that in the church's dim interior, beneath the painting of God enthroned in the clouds, a

message would come. And it did, though not as he had wanted. He had hoped for a voice in the darkness, a divine command that would give him surety of success, but instead he heard feet in the nave and when he looked round he saw that his men, those that remained and were not sick, had come to pray with him. They came one by one as they heard he was at the altar, and they knelt behind him and Guy knew that such good men could not be beaten. The time had come to take the Grail.

He sent a half-dozen men through the town with orders to find every soldier, every crossbowman, every knight and man-at-arms who could still walk. They must arm themselves. he said, and we meet by the gun in one hour."

He went to his own quarters, deaf to the cries of the sick and their families. His servant had been struck by the sickness, but one of the sons of the house where Guy had his room was still fit and Guy ordered him to help with his preparations.

First he put on leather breeches and a leather jerkin. Both garments had been made tight-fitting so that Vexille had to stand still while the clumsy boy tied the laces at the back of the jerkin. Then the lad took handfuls of lard and smeared the leather so it was well greased and would let the armour move easily. Vexille wore a short mail haubergeon over the jerkin that provided extra protection for his chest, belly and groin, and that too needed greasing. Then, piece by piece, the black plate armour was buckled into place. First came the four cuisses, the rounded plates that protected the thighs, and beneath them the boy buckled the greaves that ran from knee to ankle. Vexille's knees were protected by roundels and his feet by plates of steel attached to boots that were buckled to the greaves. A short leather skirt on which were rivetted heavy square plates of steel was fastened about his waist, and when that was adjusted Vexille lifted the plate gorget into place about his neck and waited as the youth did up the two buckles behind. Then the lad grunted as he lifted the breast-and backplates over Vexille's head. The two heavy pieces were joined by short leather straps that rested on his shoulders and the plates were secured by more straps at his sides. Then came the rerebraces that protected his upper arms, and the vambraces that sheathed his forearms, the espaliers to cover his shoulders and two more roundels that armoured his elbow joints. He flexed his arms as the boy worked, making sure that the straps were not so tight that he could not wield a sword. The gauntlets were of leather that had been studded with overlapping steel plates that looked like scales; then came the sword belt with its heavy black scabbard holding the precious blade made in Cologne.

The sword was a whole ell in length, longer than a man's arm, and the blade was deceptively narrow, suggesting the sword might be fragile, but it had a strong central rib that stiffened the long steel and made it into a lethal lunging weapon. Most men carried cutting swords that blunted themselves on armour, but Vexille was a master with the thrusting blade. The art was to look for a joint in the armour and ram the steel through. The handle was sheathed with maple wood and the pommel and handguard were of steel. It bore no decoration, no gold leaf, no inscriptions on the blade, no silver inlay. It was simply a workman's tool, a killing weapon, a fit thing for this day's sacred duty.

Sir?" the boy said nervously, offering Vexille the big tournament helm with its narrow eye slits.

Not that one,“ Vexille said. I'll take the bascinet and the coif.” He pointed to what he wanted. The big tournament helm gave very restricted vision and Vexille had learned to distrust it in battle for it prevented him seeing enemies at his flanks. It was a risk to face archers without any visor, but at least he could see them, and now he pulled the mail coif over his head so that it protected the nape of his neck and his ears, then took the bascinet from the boy. It was a simple helmet, with no rim and with no faceplate to constrict his vision. Go and look after your family," he told the boy, and then he picked up his shield, its willow boards covered with boiled, hardened leather on which was painted the yale of the Vexilles carrying its Grail. He had no talisman, no charm. Few men went to battle without such a precaution, whether it was a lady's scarf or a piece of jewellery blessed by a priest, but Guy Vexille had only one talisman, and that was the Grail. And now he went to fetch it.

One of the coredors was the first to fall ill in the castle and by the night's end there were more than a score of men and women vomiting, sweating and shivering. Jake was one of them. The cross eyed archer dragged himself to a corner of the courtyard and propped his bow beside him and put a handful of arrows on his lap, and there he suffered. Thomas tried to persuade him to go upstairs, but Jake refused. I'll stay here. he insisted. I'll die in the open air."

You won't die. Thomas said. Heaven won't take you and the devil doesn't need any competition." The small joke failed to raise a smile on Jake's face, which was discoloured by small red lumps that were rapidly darkening to the colour of a bruise. He had taken down his breeches because he could not contain his bowels and the most he would let Thomas do for him was to bring him a bed of straw from the ruins of the stables.

Philin's son also had the sickness. His face was showing pink spots and he was shivering. The disease seemed to have come from nowhere, but Thomas assumed it had been brought on the east wind that had fanned the flames in the town before the rain killed the fires. Abbot Planchard had warned him of this, of a pestilence coming from Lombardy, and here it was and Thomas was helpless. We must find a priest. Philin said.

A physician," Thomas said, though he knew of none and did not know how one could be got into the castle even if he could be found.

A priest. Philin insisted. If a child is touched by a consecrated wafer it cures him. It cures everything. Let me fetch a priest.“ It was then Thomas realized the gun had not fired and that no bored crossbowman had clattered a quarrel against the castle's stones, and so he let Philin go out of the ruined gateway in search of Father Medous or one of the other priests in the town. He did not expect to see the tall man again, yet Philin returned within half an hour to say that the town was as badly stricken as the castle and that Father Medous was anointing the sick and had no time to come to the enemy garrison. There was a dead woman in the street. Philin told Thomas, just lying there with her teeth clenched.”

Did Father Medous give you a wafer?"

Philin showed him a thick piece of bread, then carried it up to his son who was in the upper hall with most of the sick. A woman wept that her husband could not receive the last rites and so, to console her and to give hope to the ill, Genevieve carried the golden cup around the pallets and touched it to the hands of the sick and told them it would work a miracle.

We need a goddamned miracle. Sir Guillaume said to Thomas. What the hell is it?" The two had gone to the castle's tower from where, unthreatened by any crossbows, they gazed down at the abandoned gun.

There was a plague in Italy,“ Thomas said, and it must have come here.”

Jesus Christ,“ Sir Guillaurne said. What kind of plague?” God knows,“ Thomas said. A bad one.” For a moment he was assailed with the fear that the pestilence was a punishment for breaking the green glass Grail, then he remembered that Planchard had warned him of the disease long before he had found the cup. He watched a man wrapped in a bloody sheet stagger into the main street and fall down. He lay still, looking as though he were already in his winding sheet.

What in God's name is happening?“ Sir Guillaume asked, making the sign of the cross. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

It's God's wrath,“ Thomas said, punishing us.” For what?"

For being alive,“ Thomas said bitterly. He could hear wailing from the town, and he saw the people fleeing the pestilence. They had their goods in wheelbarrows or handcarts and they pushed past the gun, out of the gate, across the bridge and off to the west. Pray for snow,” Sir Guillaume said. I've often noticed that snow stops sickness. Don't know why."

It doesn't snow here," Thomas said.

Genevieve joined them, still holding the golden cup. I fed the fire,“ she said. It seems to help.”

Help?"

The sick,“ she said. They like the warmth. It's a huge fire.” She pointed to the smoke coming from the vent in the keep's side. Thomas put an arm around her and searched her face for any signs of the reddish spots, but her pale skin was clear. They stood watching the people cross the bridge and take the westwards road and, while they watched, they saw Joscelyn lead a stream of mounted men-at-arms away to the north. The new Count of Berat did not look back, he just rode as if the devil himself was on his heels.

And perhaps he was, Thomas thought, and he looked for any sign of his cousin among the disappearing horsemen, but did not see him. Perhaps Guy was dying?

Is the siege over?" Sir Guillaume wondered aloud. Not if my cousin lives. Thomas said.

How many archers do you have?"

Twelve who can pull a cord. Thomas said. Men-at-arms?“ Fifteen.” Sir Guillaume grimaced. The only consolation was that none of the garrison was tempted to flee for they were all stranded far from any friendly troops. Some of the coredors had gone when they learned from Philin that no besiegers were watching the castle, but Thomas did not regret their loss. So what do we do?" Sir Guillaume asked.

Stay here till our sick recover. Thomas said. Or till they die. he added. Then we go. He could not leave men like Jake to suffer alone. The least he could do was stay and keep them company on their passage to heaven or hell.

Then he saw that passage to the next world might come quicker than he expected, for men-at-arms were gathering at the foot of the street. They carried swords, axes and shields, and their appearance meant only one thing. They want the Grail. he said.

Jesus Christ, give it to them.“ Sir Guillaume said fervently. Give them all the pieces.”

You think that will satisfy them?"

No. Sir Guillaume admitted.

Thomas leaned over the battlements. Archers!" he shouted, then ran to pull on his mail coat and strap on his sword and gather his bow and arrow bag.

For the siege was not done.

Thirty-three knights and men-at-arms advanced up the street. The leading twelve, amongst whom was Guy Vexille, carried the pavises that should have sheltered the crossbowmen, but only six of those archers were left and Guy had ordered them to follow him, keeping a good ten paces behind, and so the vast crossbow shields, each taller than a man, served to protect his men-at-arms. They moved slowly, shuffling to keep close and to stay behind the thick, heavy pavises that were being pushed along the cobbles so that no arrow could fly beneath and pin a man's ankle. Guy Vexille waited for the thudding of the arrows striking the wood, then realized that Thomas had either lost all his archers or, far more likely, was waiting for the moment when the pavises were dropped.

They climbed through a town of the dying and the dead, a town stinking of fire and ordure. There was a man lying dead in a soiled sheet; they kicked his corpse aside and walked on. The men in the second rank held their shields aloft, protecting the three ranks from arrows shot from the castle's high keep, but still no missiles came. Guy wondered if everyone in the castle was dead and he imagined walking its empty halls like a knight of old, a Grail searcher come to his destiny, and he shuddered with pure ecstasy at the thought of claiming the relic; then the group of men were crossing the open space in front of the castle and Guy reminded them to stay close and to keep the pavises overlapping as they struggled over the mound of rubble thrown down by Hell Spitter. Christ is our companion," he told his men, God is with us. We cannot lose.

The only sounds were the cries of women and children in the town, the scrape of pavises and the clanking of armoured feet. Guy Vexille moved one of the heavy shields aside and glimpsed a makeshift barricade stretching across the courtyard, but he also saw archers bunched at the top of the steps which led into the keep and one of those men drew back his string and Guy hastily closed up the chink between the shields. The arrow struck the pavise and knocked it back and Guy was astonished by the arrow's force, and even more astonished when he looked up and saw a hand's breadth of needle-pointed arrow protruding through the pavise that was twice as thick as an ordinary shield. More arrows struck, their sound an irregular drumbeat, and the heavy pavises shook from the impact. A man cursed, wounded in the cheek by an arrow that had pierced the timber layers, but Guy steadied his men. Stay together,“ he said, go slow. When we're through the gate we go to the barricade. We can pull it down. Then the front rank charges the steps. Keep hold of the pavises till we reach the archers.” His own pavise jarred on a stone and he lifted the big wooden handle to hoist the shield over the small obstacle and an arrow immediately slammed into the rubble, missing his foot by an inch. Stay firm. he told his men,“ stay firm. God is with us. The pavise rocked back, struck high by two arrows, but Guy forced it upright, took another step, climbing now for he was crossing the rubble in the shattered gateway. They moved the big shields in small jerks, forcing them against the power of the arrow hits. It seemed there were no archers on the keep's ramparts for no arrows came down from the sky, just from the front where they were stopped by the big shields. Stay close,” Guy told his men, stay close and trust in God," and then, from where they had been hidden behind the remaining curtain wall to the right of the gate, Sir Guillaume's men-at-arms howled and charged.

Sir Guillaume had seen how the attackers were hiding behind the pavises and had reckoned those great shields would blind them, and so he had thrown down one end of the barricade and taken ten men to the corner of the yard behind the curtain wall, a place where the stable dungheap lay, and now, as Guy's men appeared through the arch, Sir Guillaume attacked. It was the same tactic he had used to such effect against Joscelyn's attack, only this time the plan was to charge, kill and wound, and immediately retreat. He had told his men that idea over and over again. Break the pavise wall, he had said, then let the archers do the rest of the slaughter while they got back to the gap in the barricade, and for an instant it all seemed to work. The onslaught did surprise the attackers, who reeled back in disarray. An English man-at-arms, a wild man who loved nothing better than a fight, split a skull with an axe while Sir Guillaume thrust his sword into another man's groin, and the men holding the pavises instinctively turned towards the threat and that meant the shields turned with them and opened their left sides to the archers on the top of the steps. Now!" Thomas called, and the arrows flew.

Guy had not foreseen this, but he was ready. In his rear rank was a man called Fulk, a Norman, who was loyal as a dog and fierce as an eagle. Hold them, Fulk!“ Vexille shouted. Front rank with me!” An arrow had glanced off one of his rerebraces, wounding a man behind, and two of the front rank were staggering with arrows through their mail, but the rest followed Guy Vexille as he closed up the pavise wall and headed towards the gap at the end of the barricade. Sir Guillaume's men should have retreated, but they were locked in battle now, lost in the excitement and terror of close combat; they were fending blows with their shields, trying to find chinks in enemy armour. Guy ignored them and went past the barricade, and then, with the heavy pavise still protecting him, he advanced on the steps. Five men went with him; the rest were attacking Sir Guillaume's few men, who were now seriously outnumbered. The archers had turned on the six men coming to the steps and were wasting their arrows on the huge shields, and then the six crossbowmen, unnoticed in the confusion, appeared in the gateway and shot a volley that tore into the English bowmen. Three went down instantly; another found himself holding a broken bow that had been shattered by a quarrel.

And Guy, shouting that God was with him, discarded the pavise and charged up the steps.

Back!“ Thomas shouted. Back!” There were three men-at-arms waiting to defend the stairway, but first his archers had to get through the door and Guy had trapped one man, tangling his legs with the sword so he fell, then making him scream when the long blade rammed up his groin. Blood cascaded down the steps. Thomas thrust his bowstave at Guy's chest, pushing him back, then Sam seized Thomas and dragged him back into the doorway. After that it was a scramble up the stairs, always twisting to the right, past the three men-at-arms who waited at the top. Hold them,“ Thomas said to the three. Sam! Up top! Quick!”

Thomas stayed on the stairs. Sam and the other seven archers who were left would know what to do once they reached the keep's battlements, while for Thomas the most important thing was to stop Guy's men climbing the steps up to the first hall. The attackers had to come with the stairway's central spine on their right and that would restrict their sword arms, while Thomas's men, fighting downwards, would have more space to wield their weapons, except Guy's first man up was left-handed and he carried a short-handled, broad-bladed axe that he chopped into a man-at-arm's foot and brought him down in a clatter of shield, sword and mail. The axe fell again, there was a brief scream, then Thomas loosed an arrow at three paces“ range and the axeman was falling back, the shaft in his throat. A crossbow bolt followed, screeching along the curve of the wall, and Thomas saw Genevieve had collected four of the coredors” bows and was waiting for another target. Sir Guillaume was now in desperate trouble. He was outnumbered and cornered. He shouted at his men to lock shields and to

brace themselves against the yard's corner where the dungheap obstructed him. Then Guy's men came in a rush and the shields went up to meet swords and axes. Sir Guillaume's men thrust the shields forward to rock the enemy back and lunged their swords at bellies or chests, but one of the enemy, a big man showing the symbol of a bull on his jupon, had a mace, a great ball of iron on a stout handle that he used to beat down an Englishman's shield until it was nothing but splintered pieces of willow held together by the leather cover and the shield's holder had a crushed forearm. Yet still the Englishman tried to ram the broken shield into his attacker's face, until another Frenchman rammed a sword into his guts and he fell to his knees. Sir Guillaume seized the mace, hauled it towards him and the enemy came fast, tripping on his victim. Sir Guillaume hit him in the face with the hilt of his sword, the crosspiece sinking into an eye, but the man fought on, blood and jelly on his cheek, and two more enemy were coming behind him, prising the short line of defenders apart. An Englishman was on his knees, being hammered on the helmet by two swords, then he bent forward and vomited and one of the Frenchmen shoved the sword blade behind his back-plate, in the gap between plate and helmet, and the Englishman screamed as his spine was flayed open. The man with the mace, one-eyed now, was trying to stand and Sir Guillaume kicked him in the face, kicked him again, and still he would not stay down so Sir Guillaume rammed his sword into the man's breast, ripping through mail, but then a Frenchman thrust a sword at Sir Guillaume's breast and the blow hurled him back onto the dungheap. They're dead men!“ Fulk shouted. They're dead men!” And just then the first volley of arrows came from the keep's battlements.

The arrows slashed into the backs of Fulk's men-at-arms. Some wore plate and the arrows, coming at a steep angle, glanced off that armour, but the bodkin points drove through mail and leather and suddenly four of the attackers were dead and three were wounded, and then the archers turned their bows on the crossbowmen in the gate. Sir Guillaume, unwounded, managed to stand. His shield was split and he threw it away, then the man with the bull on his jupon raised himself onto his knees and grappled with him, arms about his waist, trying to pull him down. Sir Guillaume used both hands to hammer the heavy pommel of his sword onto the man's helmet, yet he was still hauled down, falling with a crash, and he let go of his sword as the big man tried to throttle him. Sir Guillaume felt with his left hand to find the bottom of the man's breastplate, drew his dagger with his right and stabbed up into the big man's belly. He felt the knife go through leather, then puncture skin and muscle and he worked the blade, ripping at the man's guts as the coarse, sweat-reddened, bloodied, one-eyed face snarled at him. More arrows flew, thumping with a sickening thud into Fulk's remaining men. Here!“ Guy Vexille was in the doorway at the top of the steps. Fulk! Here! Leave them! Here!”

Fulk repeated the order in his roaring voice. So far as he could see only three of the defenders were alive in the corner of the courtyard, but if he stayed to finish them off then the archers on the tower would kill all his men. Fulk had an arrow in the thigh, but he felt no pain as he stumbled up the steps and into the big doorway where, at last, he was safe from the arrows. Guy now had fifteen men left. The others were dead or else still in the yard, wounded. One man, already struck by two arrows, tried to crawl to the steps and two more arrows thudded into his back, throwing him down. He twitched, and his mouth opened and closed in spasms until a last arrow broke his spine. An archer whom Guy had not noticed before, a man who had been lying on a bed of straw, struggled a few paces across the yard and used a knife to cut the throat of a wounded man-at-arms, but then a crossbow bolt flashed from the gate to strike the archer and throw him onto his victim's body. The archer vomited, jerked for a few heartbeats and then was still.

Sir Guillaume was helpless. He had two men left, not nearly enough to attack the doorway, and Sir Guillaume himself was bruised, bleeding and feeling strangely and suddenly weak. His stomach gave a heave and he retched emptily, then staggered back onto the wall. John Faircloth was lying on the dungheap, bleeding from the belly, unable to talk as he died. Sir Guillaume wanted to say something comforting to the dying Englishman, but a wave of nausea swept over him. He retched again, and his armour felt curiously heavy. All he wanted to do was lie down and rest. My face. he said to one of the two survivors, a Burgundian, look at my face,“ and the man obeyed and flinched when he saw the red blotches. Oh, sweet Jesus,” Sir Guillaume said,“ sweet goddamn Jesus,” and he slumped down by the wall and reached for his sword as if the familiar weapon would give him solace.

Shields,“ Guy said to his men. Two of you with shields, hold them high, go up the stairs, and we'll come behind and cut their legs out.” That was the best way to take a stairway, to chop the vulnerable ankles of the defenders, but when they tried it they discovered the two remaining men-at-arms were using shortened lances that Sir Guillaume had placed on the landing to defend the steps, and they hammered the lances on the shields, driving the men back, and an arrow and a crossbow bolt took one man in the helmet so that blood spilled down from beneath its rim to sheet his face. He fell back and Guy pulled him down the steps and put him beside the corpse of the axeman he had dragged off the stairway.

We need crossbows. Fulk said. His blunt face was bruised and there was blood in his beard. He went to the doorway and bellowed for the crossbowmen to run to the steps. Come fast!“ he shouted, then spat out a bloody tooth. It's safe! The archers are dead. he lied,” so come now!"

The crossbowmen tried, but Sam and his archers on the battlements had been waiting for them and four of the six were hit by

arrows. A loaded crossbow clattered across the stones, hit the barri cade and tripped the pawl so that its bolt buried itself in a corpse. One crossbowman tried to run back through the arch and was hurled onto the rubble by an arrow, yet two of the bowmen managed to reach the steps unharmed.

There are few of them. Guy told his men, and God is with us. We need one effort, just one, and the Grail is ours. Your reward will be glory or heaven. Glory or heaven. He had the best armour so he decided he would lead the next attack with Fulk beside him. The two crossbowmen would be immediately behind, ready to shoot the bowmen waiting behind the curve of the stairway. Once the stairway was clear Guy would hold the base of the keep. With luck, he thought, the Grail would be in whatever room they reached, but if it was another floor up then they must do it all again, but he was certain they would reach the prize and, once it was gained, he would fire the castle. The wooden floors would burn readily enough and the flames and smoke would kill the archers on the battlements and Guy would be victorious. He could leave, the Grail would be his and the world would be changed. Just one last effort.

Guy took a small shield from one of his men-at-arms. It was scarcely bigger than a serving platter, intended only to fend off sword blows in a melee, and he began the attack by pushing it round the corner, hoping to draw the arrows and then rush the steps while the bowmen upstairs had empty strings, but the archers were not drawn by the ruse and so Guy nodded to Fulk who had snapped off the head and feathered end of the arrow in his thigh, leaving the shortened shaft sticking clean through the muscle. I'm ready," Fulk said.

Then we go," Guy said, and the two men crouched behind their shields and climbed the winding stair, treading on the blood of their comrades, and they turned the bend and Guy braced himself for an arrow's strike. None came, and he peered over the shield and saw nothing but empty steps ahead and knew God had given him victory. For the Grail. he told Fulk, and the two men hurried, just a dozen steps to go and the crossbowmen were behind them, and then Guy smelt the burning. He thought nothing of it. The stair turned and he could see the hallway opening up ahead and he shouted his war cry and then the fire came.

It had been Genevieve's idea. She had given her crossbow to Philin and gone up to the hall where the sick lay and she had seized one of the breastplates captured from Joscelyn's assault and raked into its shallow bowl a bucket full of glowing embers from the fire. One of the coredor women helped her, scooping smoul dering cinders and ash into a great cooking pot, and they carried the fire downstairs, the breastplate burning Genevieve's hands, and when the first two men came into view they hurled the red hot scraps down the stairs. The ash did the greatest damage. It drifted, hot dust, and some got into the eyes of the crossbowman behind Fulk and he flinched away, his weapon dropped as he pawed the burning scraps from his face, and the crossbow struck the step, fired itself and the bolt went through Fulk's ankle. Fulk fell into a scatter of red-hot embers and scrambled backwards to free himself of the pain and Guy was alone on the stairs, ash half blinding him, and he lifted the shield as though that would protect his eyes and it was struck by an arrow with such force that it threw him back. The arrow was half through the shield. A crossbow bolt cracked against the wall. Guy staggered, trying to gain his balance, trying to see through the ash-induced tears and the thick smoke, and then Thomas led his few men in a charge. Thomas carried one of the shortened lances that he rammed at Guy, throwing him all the way down the stairs, while the man-at-arms with Thomas stabbed a sword two-handed into Fulk's neck.

Vexille's men at the foot of the stairs should have stopped the charge, but they were taken aback by the sight of Guy staggering down, by Fulk's screaming and by the stench of fire and burning flesh and they backed out of the door as the enemy came howling out of the smoke. Thomas only led five men, but they were enough to panic Guy's small band who seized their master and fled back into the courtyard's fresh air. Thomas followed, thrusting the lance forward, and he caught Guy plumb on the breastplate so that he was thrown back down the outer steps to sprawl on the court yard's stones. Then the arrows came from the battlements, plunging through mail and plate. The attackers could not go back up the steps, because Thomas was there and the doorway was filled with armed men and smoke, and so they fled. They ran for the town and the arrows followed them through the archway and hurled two of them onto the rubble. Then Thomas shouted for the archers to stop shooting. Rest strings!“ he yelled. You hear me, Sam? Rest strings! Rest strings!”

He let the shortened lance fall and held out his hand. Genevieve gave him his bow and Thomas took a broad-head from his arrow bag and looked down the steps to where his cousin, abandoned by his men, struggled to stand in his heavy black armour. You and me,“ Thomas said, your weapon against mine.” Guy looked left and right and saw no help. The courtyard was stinking of vomit, dung and blood. It was thick with bodies. He backed away, going to the gap at the edge of the barricade and Thomas followed, coming down the steps and staying within a dozen paces of his enemy. Lost your appetite for battle?" Thomas asked him.

Guy rushed him then, hoping to get within the range of his long sword's blade, but the broad-head hit him smack on the breastplate and he was brutally checked by it, stopped dead by the sheer force of the big bow, and Thomas already had another arrow on the string. Try again. Thomas said.

Guy backed away. Back through the barricade, past Sir Guillaume and his two men who did nothing to interfere with him. Thomas's archers had come down from the battlements and were on the steps, watching. Is your armour good?“ Thomas asked Guy. It needs to be. Mind you, I'm shooting broad-heads. They won't pierce your armour.” He loosed again and the arrow hammered into the plates at Guy's groin and bent him over and threw him back onto the rubble. Thomas had another arrow ready. So what will you do now?“ Thomas asked. I'm not defence less like Planchard. Like Eleanor. Like my father. So come and kill me.”

Guy got to his feet and backed over the rubble. He knew he had men in the town and if he could just reach them then he would be safe, but he dared not turn his back. He knew he would fetch an arrow if he did and a man's pride did not allow a wound in the back. You died facing the enemy. He was outside the castle now, backing slowly across the open space and he prayed one of his men would have the wit to fetch a crossbow and finish Thomas off, but Thomas was still coming towards him, smiling, and the smile was of a man come to his sweet revenge.

This one's a bodkin. Thomas said, and it's going to hit you in the chest. You want to raise the shield?"

Thomas. Guy said, then raised the small shield before he could say anything more because he had seen Thomas draw the big bow, and the string was released and the arrow, headed with heavy oak behind the needle-sharp blade, slammed through the shield, through the breastplate, mail and leather to lodge against one of Guy's ribs. The impact jarred him back three paces, but he managed to keep his feet, though the shield was now pinned to his chest and Thomas had another arrow nocked.

In the belly this time. Thomas said.

I'm your cousin. Guy said, and he wrenched the shield free, tearing the arrow head from his chest, but he was too late and the arrow punched his stomach, driving through plate steel and iron mail and greased leather, and this arrow sank deep. The first was for my father. Thomas said, that one was for my woman, and this one's for Planchard. He shot again and the arrow pierced Guy's gorget and hurled him back onto the cobbles. He still had the sword and he tried to lift it as Thomas came close. He also tried to speak, but his throat was filled with blood. He shook his head, wondering why his sight was going misty, and he felt Thomas kneel on his sword arm and he felt the punctured gorget being prised up and he tried to protest, but only spewed blood, then Thomas put the dagger under the gorget and rammed it deep into Guy's gullet. And that one's for me. Thomas said.

Sam and a half-dozen archers joined him by the body. Jake's dead," Sam said.

I know."

Half the bloody world's dead. Sam said.

Maybe the world was ending, Thomas thought. Perhaps the terrible prophecies of the Book of Revelation were coming true. The four dread horsemen were riding. The rider on the white horse was God's revenge on an evil world, the red horse carried war, the black horse was saddled by famine while the pale horse, the worst, brought plague and death. And perhaps the only thing that could turn the riders away was the Grail, but he did not have the Grail. So the horsemen would run free. Thomas stood, picked up his bow and started down the street.

Guy's surviving men were not staying to fight the archers. They fled like Joscelyn's men, going to find a place where no plague filled the streets, and Thomas stalked a town of the dying and the dead, a town of smoke and filth, a place of weeping. He carried an arrow on the string, but no one challenged him. A woman called for help, a child cried in a doorway, and then Thomas saw a man-at-arms, still in mail, and he half drew the bow, then saw the man had no weapons, only a pail of water. He was an older man, grey-haired. You must be Thomas?“ the man said. Yes.”

I'm Sir Henri Courtois.“ He pointed at a nearby house. Your friend is in there. He's sick.”

Robbie lay on a fouled bed. He was shaking with a fever and his face was dark and swollen. He did not recognize Thomas. You poor bastard. Thomas said. He gave his bow to Sam. And take that too, Sam. he said, pointing to the parchment that lay on a low stool beside the bed, and then he lifted Robbie in his arms and carried him back up the hill. You should die among friends. he told the unconscious man.

The siege, at last, was over.

Sir Guillaume died. Many died. Too many to bury, so Thomas had the corpses carried to a ditch in the fields across the river and he covered them with brushwood and set the heap on fire, though there was not enough fuel to burn the bodies, which were left half roasted. Wolves came and ravens darkened the sky above the ditch that was death's rich feast.

Folk came back to the town. They had sought refuge in places that were struck as badly as Castillon d'Arbizon. The plague was everywhere, they said. Berat was a town of the dead, though whether Joscelyn lived no one knew and Thomas did not care. Winter brought frost and at Christmas a friar brought news that the pestilence was now in the north. It is everywhere. the friar said, everyone is dying. Yet not everyone died. Philin's son, Galdric, recovered, but just after Christmas his father caught the disease and was dead in three agonizing days.

Robbie lived. It had seemed he must die for there had been nights when he appeared not to breathe, yet he lived and slowly he recovered. Genevieve looked after him, feeding him when he was weak and washing him when he was filthy, and when he tried to apologize to her she hushed him. Speak to Thomas. she said.

Robbie, still weak, went to Thomas and he thought the archer looked older and fiercer. Robbie did not know what to say, but Thomas did. Tell me. he said. When you did what you did, you thought you were doing the right thing?"

Yes. Robbie said.

Then you did no wrong. Thomas said flatly, and that's an end of it.

I should not have taken that. Robbie said, pointing to the parchment on Thomas's lap, the Grail writings left by Thomas's father.

I got it back. Thomas said, and now I'm using it to teach Genevieve to read. It isn't any use for anything else. Robbie stared into the fire. I'm sorry. he said.

Thomas ignored the apology. And what we do now is wait until everyone is well, then we go home."

They were ready to leave by Saint Benedict's Day. Eleven men would go home to England, and Galdric, who had no parents now, would travel as Thomas's servant. They would go home rich, for most of the money from their plunders was still intact, but what they would find in England Thomas did not know.

He spent the last night in Castillon d'Arbizon listening as Genevieve stumbled over the words of his father's parchment. He had decided to burn it after this night, for it had led him nowhere. He was making Genevieve read the Latin, for there was little English or French in the document, and though she did not under stand the words it did give her practice in deciphering the letters. Virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa consolobuntur me, " she read slowly, and Thomas nodded and knew the words calix meus inebrians were not far ahead, and he thought that the cup had got him drunk, drunk and wild and all to no purpose. Planchard had been right. The search made men mad.

Ponp coram me mensam, “ Genevieve read, ex adverso hostium meorum.”

It's not pono,“ Thomas said, but pones. Pones coram me mensam ex adverso hostium meorum. ” He knew it by heart and now trans lated for her. Thou prepares! a table for me in the presence of my enemies."

She frowned, a long pale finger on the writing. No. she insisted, it does say pono.“” She held out the manuscript to prove it. The firelight flickered on the words that did indeed say pono coram me mensam ex adverso hostium meorum.“ His father had written it and Thomas must have looked at the line a score of times, yet he had never noticed the mistake. His familiarity with the Latin had led him to skip across the words, seeing them in his head rather than on the parchment. Pono. I prepare a table.” Not thou preparest, but I prepare, and Thomas stared at the word and knew it was not a mistake.

And knew he had found the Grail.

EPILOGUE

The Grail

The breaking waves drove up the shingle, hissed white and scraped back. On and on, ever and ever, the grey-green sea beating at England's coast.

A small rain fell, soaking the new grass where lambs played and buck hares danced beside the hedgerows where anemones and stitchwort grew.

The pestilence had come to England. Thomas and his three companions had ridden through empty villages and heard cows bellowing in agony for there was no one to take the milk from their swollen udders. At some villages archers waited at barricaded streets to turn all strangers away and Thomas had dutifully ridden around such places. They had seen pits dug for the dead; pits half filled with corpses that had received no last rites. The pits were edged with flowers for it was springtime.

In Dorchester there was a dead man in the street and no one to bury him. Some houses had been nailed shut and painted with a red cross to show that the folk inside were sick and must be left there to die or recover. Outside the town the fields went unploughed, seed stayed in the barns of dead farmers, and yet there were larks above the grass and the kingfishers darting along the streams and plovers tumbling beneath the clouds. Sir Giles Marriott, the old lord of the manor, had died before the plague struck, and his grave was in the village church, but if any of the surviving villagers saw Thomas ride by, they did not greet him. They sheltered from God's wrath and Thomas, Genevieve, Robbie and Galdric rode on down the lane until they were beneath Lipp Hill and ahead was the sea, and the shingle, and the valley where Hookton had once stood. It had been burned by Sir Guillaume and Guy Vexille back when they were allies, and now there was nothing but thorns looping over the lumpy remains of the cottages, and hazels and thistles and nettles growing in the scorched black, roofless walls of the church.

Thomas had been in England for a fortnight. He had ridden to the Earl of Northampton, and he had knelt to his lord who had first had servants examine Thomas to make sure he did not carry the dark marks of the pestilence, and Thomas had paid his lord one-third of the money they had brought from Castillon d'Arbizon, and then he had given him the golden cup. It was made for the Grail, my lord. he said, but the Grail is gone.“ The Earl admired the cup, turning it and holding it up so that it caught the light, and he was amazed at its beauty. Gone?” he asked.

The monks at Saint Sever's. Thomas lied, believe it was taken to heaven by an angel whose wing had been mended there. It is gone, lord."

And the Earl had been satisfied, for he was the possessor of a great treasure even if it was not the Grail, and Thomas, promising to return, had gone away with his companions. Now he had come to the village of his childhood, the place he had learned to master the bow, and to the church where his father, the mad Father Ralph, had preached to the gulls and hidden his great secret. It was still there. Hidden in the grass and nettles that grew between the flagstones of the old church, a thing discarded as being of no value. It was a clay bowl which Father Ralph had used to hold the mass wafers. He would put the bowl on the altar, cover it with a linen cloth and carry it home when mass was done. I prepare a table', he had written, and the altar was the table and the bowl was the thing he set it with and Thomas had handled it a hundred times and thought nothing of it, and when he had last been in Hookton he had picked it up from the ruins and then, disdaining it, he had thrown it back among the weeds. Now he found it again among the nettles and he took it to Genevieve who placed it in the wooden box and closed the lid, and the fit of the thing was so perfect that the box did not even rattle when it was shaken. The base of the bowl matched the slight discoloured circle in the old paint of the box's interior. The one had been made for the other. What do we do?“ Genevieve asked. Robbie and Galdric were outside the church, exploring the ridges and lumps that betrayed where the old cottages had been. Neither knew why Thomas had come back to Hookton. Galdric did not care, and Robbie, quieter now, was content to stay with Thomas until they all rode north to pay Lord Outhwaite the ransom that would release Robbie back to Scotland. If Outhwaite lived. What do we do?” Genevieve asked again, her voice a whisper. What Planchard advised me,“ Thomas said, but first he took a skin wine from his bag, poured a little wine into the bowl and made Genevieve drink from it, then he took the bowl and drank himself. He smiled at her. That rids us of excommunication,” he said, for they had drunk from the bowl that caught Christ's blood from the cross.

Is it really the Grail?" Genevieve asked.

Thomas took it outside. He held Genevieve's hand as they walked towards the sea and, when they reached the shingle inside the hook where the Lipp Stream curved across the beach by the place where the fishing boats had been hauled up when Hookton still had villagers, he smiled at her, then hurled the bowl as hard as he could. He threw it across the stream to the hook of shingle on the far side and the bowl crunched down into the stones, bounced, ran a few feet and was still.

They waded the stream, climbed the bank and found the bowl undamaged.

What do we do?" Genevieve asked again.

It would cause nothing but madness, Thomas thought. Men would fight for it, lie for it, cheat for it, betray for it and die for it. The Church would make money from it. It would cause nothing but evil, he thought, for it stirred horror from men's hearts, so he would do what Planchard had said he would do. Hurl it into the deepest sea, “ he quoted the old abbot, down among the monsters, and tell no one.”

Genevieve touched the bowl a last time, then kissed it and gave it back to Thomas who cradled it for a moment. It was just a bowl of peasant's clay, red-brown in colour, thickly made and rough to the touch, not perfectly round, with a small indentation on one side where the potter had damaged the unfired clay. It was worth pennies, perhaps nothing, yet it was the greatest treasure of Christendom and he kissed it once and then he drew back his strong archer's right arm, ran down to the sucking sea's edge and threw it as far and as hard as he could. He hurled it away and it span for an instant above the grey waves, seemed to fly a heart beat longer as though it were reluctant to let go of mankind, and then the bowl was gone.

Just a white splash, instantly healed, and Thomas took Genevieve's hand and turned away.

He was an archer, and the madness was over. He was free. Historical Note

I have allowed a surfeit of rats to appear here and there in Heretic, though I am persuaded they were probably innocent of spreading the plague. There is argument among the medical historians as to whether the Black Death (named for the colour of the buboes, or swellings, which disfigured the sick) was bubonic plague, which would have been spread by fleas from rats, or some form of anthrax, which would have come from cattle. Fortunately for me Thomas and his companions did not need to make that diagnosis. The medieval explanation for the pestilence was mankind's sin added to an unfortunate astrological conjunction of the planet Saturn, always a baleful influence. It caused panic and puzzlement for it was an unknown disease that had no cure. It spread north from Italy, killing its victims within three or four days and mysteriously sparing others. This was the first appearance of the plague in Europe. There had been other pandemics, of course, but nothing on this scale, and it would continue its ravages, at intervals, for another four hundred years. The victims did not call it the Black Death, that name was not to be used till the 1800s, they just knew it as the pestilence."

It killed at least one-third of the European population. Some communities suffered a mortality bill of more than fifty per cent, but the overall figure of one-third seems to be accurate. It struck as hard in rural areas as in towns and whole villages vanished. Some of them can still be detected as ridges and ditches in farm land, while in other places there are lone churches, standing in fields with no apparent purpose. They are the plague churches, all that remain of the old villages.

Only the opening and closing passages of Heretic are based on real history. The plague happened, as did the siege and capture of Calais, but everything in between is fictional. There is no town of Berat, nor a bastide called Castillon d'Arbizon. There is an Astarac, but whatever was built there now lies under the waters of a great reservoir. The fight which begins the book, the capture of Nifulay and its tower, did happen, but the victory gained the French no advantage for they were unable to cross the River Ham and engage the main English army. So the French withdrew, Calais fell and the port remained in English hands for another three centuries. The story of the six burghers of Calais being condemned to death, then reprieved, is well known and Rodin's statue of the six, in front of the town's hall, commemorates the event.

Thomas's language difficulties in Gascony were real enough. The aristocracy there, as in England, used French, but the common folk had a variety of local languages, chiefly Occitan, from which the modern Languedoc comes. Languedoc simply means the language of oc', because oc was the word for yes, and it is closely related to Catalan, the language spoken just across the Pyrenees in northern Spain. The French, conquering the territory to their south, tried to suppress the language, but it is still spoken and is now enjoying something of a revival.

As for the Grail? Long gone, I suspect. Some say it was the cup Christ used at the Last Supper, and others that it was the bowl used to catch his blood from the dolorous blow', the lance wound given to his side during the crucifixion. Whatever it was, it has never been found, though rumours persist and some say it is hidden in Scotland. It was, nevertheless, the most prized relic of medieval Christendom, perhaps because it was so mysterious, or else because, when the Arthurian tales received their final form, all the old Celtic tales of magic cauldrons became confused with the Grail. It has also been a golden thread through centuries of stories, and will go on being that, which is why it is probably best if it remains undiscovered.