Labyrinth

CHAPTER 62

“Alais! Alais! Wake up!”

Someone was shaking her shoulders. That was wrong. She was sitting on the bank of the river, in the peace and dappled light of her private glade. She could feel the cool water trickling between her toes, cold and fresh, and the soft touch of the sun caressing her cheek. She could taste the strong Corbieres wine on her tongue and her nose was full of the intoxicating aroma of the warm white bread she lifted to her mouth.

Beside her, Guilhem was lying asleep in the grass.

The world was so green, the sky so blue.

She jolted awake, to find herself still in the dank, semi-gloom of the tunnels. Sajhe was standing over her.

“You must wake up, Dame.”

Alais scrambled into a sitting position. “What’s happened? Is Esclarmonde all right?”

“Viscount Trencavel has been taken.”

“Taken,” she said in bewilderment. “Taken where? By whom?”

“They are saying by treason. People are saying that the French tricked him into their camp, and then took him by force. Others, that he has given himself to save the Ciutat. And…”

Sajhe broke off. Even in the half-light, Alais could see he was flushing.

“What is it?”

They are saying Dame Oriane and Chevalier du Mas were of the Viscount’s party.“ He hesitated. ”They, too, have not returned.“

Alais got to her feet. She glanced at Esclarmonde, who was sleeping calmly. “She’s resting. She will be fine without us for a while. Come. We must find out what is happening.”

They ran swiftly along the tunnel and climbed the ladder. Alais flung the trap door open and hauled Sajhe up after her.

Outside, the streets were crowded, filled with bewildered people rushing aimlessly backwards and forwards.

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” she shouted at a man running by.

He shook his head and kept running. Sajhe took her hand and dragged her into a small house on the opposite side of the street.

“Gaston will know.”

Alais followed him in. Gaston and his brother, Pons, rose as she entered.

“Dame.”

“Is it true that the viscount has been captured?” she asked.

Gaston nodded. “Yesterday morning the Count of Auxerre came to propose a meeting between Viscount Trencavel and the Count of Nevers, in the presence of the Abbot. He went with a small entourage, your sister among them. As to what happened after that, Dame Alais, nobody knows. Either our lord Trencavel gave himself up of his own accord to purchase our freedom or else he was deceived.”

“None has returned,” added Pons.

“Either way, there will be no fighting,” said Gaston quietly. “The garrison has surrendered. The French have already taken possession of the main gates and towers.”

“What!” Alais exclaimed, looking in disbelief from face to face. What are the terms of the surrender?“

That all citizens, Cathar, Jew and Catholic, will be allowed to leave Carcassona without fear of our lives, carrying nothing but the clothes we stand up in.“

“There are to be no interrogations? No burnings?”

“It seems not. The entire population is to be exiled, but not harmed.”

Alais sank down in a chair before her legs gave way from under her.

“What of Dame Agnes?”

“She and the young prince are to be given safe conduct into the custody of the Count of Foix, provided she renounces all claims on behalf of her son.” Gaston cleared his throat. “I am sorry for the loss of your husband and sister, Dame Alais.”

“Does anyone know the fate of our men?”

Pons shook his head.

“Is it a trick, think you?” she said fiercely.

“There is no way of knowing, Dame. Only when the exodus begins will we see if the French are as good as their word.”

“Everyone is to leave through one gate, the Porte d’Aude to the west of the Cite at the ringing of the bells at dusk.”

“It is over then,” she said, almost in a whisper. “The Ciutat has surrendered.”

At least my father did not live to see the viscount in French hands.

“Esclarmonde improves daily, but she is still weak. Can I impose upon you further and ask if you could accompany her from the Ciutat? She paused. ”For reasons I dare not confide, for your sake as much as Esclarmonde’s, it would be wisest if we travelled separately.“

Gaston nodded. “You fear those who inflicted these appalling injuries in the first instance might yet be looking for her?”

Alais looked at him in surprise. “Well, yes,” she admitted.

“It will be an honour to help you, Dame Alais.” He flushed red. “Your father… He was a fair man.”

She nodded. “He was.”

As the dying rays of the setting sun painted the outer walls of the Chateau Comtal with a fierce orange light, the courtyard, the walkways and the Great Hall were silent. Everything was abandoned, empty.

At the Porte d’Aude, a mass of frightened and bewildered people were herded together, desperately trying to keep sight of their loved ones, averting their eyes from the contemptuous faces of the French soldiers, who stared at them as if they were less than human. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords as if only waiting for an excuse.

Alais hoped her disguise would be good enough. She shuffled forward, awkward in men’s boots several times too big for her, keeping close to the man in front. She had strapping around her chest to flatten her and to conceal the books and parchments. In breeches, shirt and a nondescript straw hat, she looked like any other boy. She had pebbles in her mouth, which altered the shape of her face, and she’d cut her hair and rubbed mud in it to darken it.

The line moved forward. Alais kept looking down, for fear of catching the eye of anyone who might recognise her and give her away. The line thinned to a single file the closer they got to the gate. There were four Crusaders on guard, their expressions dull and resentful. They were stopping people, forcing them to remove their clothes to prove they were smuggling nothing underneath.

Alais could see the guards had stopped Esclarmonde’s litter. Clutching a kerchief over his mouth, Gaston was explaining his mother was very ill.

The guard pulled back the curtain and immediately stepped back. Alais hid a smile. She had sewed rotting meat into a pig’s bladder and wrapped stained, bloodied bandages around her feet.

The guard waved them through.

Sajhe was several families behind, travelling with Senher and Na Couza and their six children, who had similar colouring. She had rubbed dirt into his hair to darken it too. The only thing she could not disguise were his eyes, so he was under strict instruction not to look up if he could help it.

The line lurched forward once more. It’s my turn. They’d agreed she would pretend not to understand if anyone spoke to her.

2›Toi! Paysan. Qu’est-ce que tu portes la?“ 2›

She kept her head down, resisting the temptation to touch the strapping around her body.

2›“Eh, toi!” 2›

The pike cut through the air and Alais braced herself for a blow that never came. Instead, the girl in front of her was knocked to the ground.

She scrambled in the dirt for her hat. She raised her frightened face to her accuser.

“Canhot.”

What’s she say?“ the guard muttered. ”I can’t understand a word they say.“

“Chien. She’s got a puppy.”

Before any of them knew what was happening, the soldier had hauled the dog out of her arms and run it through with his spear. Blood splattered over the front of the girl’s dress.

“Allez! Vite.”

The girl was too shocked to move. Alais helped her to her feet and encouraged her to keep moving, steering her through the gate, fighting the impulse to turn around and check on Sajhe. Soon, she was out.

Now I see them.

On the hill overlooking the gate were the French barons. Not the leaders, who Alais presumed were waiting until the evacuation was over before making their entrance into Carcassonne, but knights wearing the colours of Burgundy, Nevers and Chartres.

At the end of the row, closest to the path, a tall, thin man sat astride a powerful grey stallion. Despite the long southern summer, his skin was still as white as milk. Beside him was Francois. Next to him, Alais recognised Oriane’s familiar red dress.

But not Guilhem.

Keep walking, keeping your eyes fastened on the ground.

She was so close now that she could smell the leather of the saddles and bridles of the horses. Oriane’s eyes seemed to be burning into her.

An old man, with sad eyes full of pain, tapped her on the arm. He needed help on the steep slope. Alais gave him her shoulder. It was the luck she needed. Looking to all the world like a grandson and grand father, she passed directly beneath Oriane’s gaze without being recognised.

The path seemed to last forever. Finally, they reached the shaded area at the bottom of the slope where the ground levelled out and the woods and marshes began. Alais saw her companion reunited with his son and daughter-in-law, then detached herself from the main crowd and slipped into the trees.

As soon as she was out of sight, Alais spat the stones from her mouth.

The inside of her cheeks were raw and dry. She rubbed her jaw, trying to ease the discomfort. She took her hat off and ran her fingers through her stubbly hair. It felt like damp straw, prickly and uncomfortable on the back of her neck.

A shout at the gate drew her attention.

No, please. Not him.

A soldier was holding Sajhe by the scruff of the neck. She could see him kicking, trying to get free. He was holding something in his hands. A small box.

Alais’s heart plummeted. She couldn’t risk going back up, so was powerless to do anything. Na Couza was arguing with the soldier, who struck her round the head, sending her sprawling back into the dirt. Sajhe took his chance. He wriggled out of the man’s grasp and scrambled down the slope. Senher Couza helped his wife to her feet.

Alais held her breath. For a moment, it seemed as if it was going to be all right. The soldier had lost interest. But then Alais heard a woman shouting. Oriane was shouting and pointing at Sajhe, ordering the guards to stop him.

She’s recognised him.

Sajhe might not be Alais, but he was the next best thing.

There was an immediate outburst of activity. Two of the guards set off down the slopes after Sajhe, but he was a fast runner, sure-footed and confident. Weighted down by their weapons and armour, they were no match for an eleven-year-old boy. Silently, Alais urged him on, watching as he darted this way and that, jumping and leaping over the uneven patches of ground, until he reached the cover of the woods.

Realising she was about to lose him, Oriane sent Francois to follow.

His horse thundered down the track, slipping and skidding on the steep, dry earth, but he covered the ground quickly. Sajhe hurtled into the undergrowth, Francois hard on his heels.

Alais realised Sajhe was heading for the boggy marshland where the Aude split into several tributaries. The ground was green and looked like a meadow in spring, but it was lethal underneath. Local people stayed away.

Alais pulled herself up into a tree for a better view. Francois either didn’t realise where Sajhe was going or didn’t care, because he spurred his horse on. He’s gaining on him. Sajhe stumbled and nearly lost his footing, but he managed to keep running, zigzagging through the thicket, leading them through blackberry bushes and thistles.

Suddenly, Francois let out a howl of anger, which turned immediately to alarm. The sinking mud had wrapped itself around the hind legs of his horse. The terrified animal was baying, flailing its legs. Every desperate attempt only hastened its descent into the treacherous mud.

Francois threw himself from the saddle and tried to swim to the edges of the bog, but his body sank lower and lower, clawed down into the mud, until only the tips of his fingers could be seen.

Then, there was silence. It seemed to Alais as if even the birds had stopped singing. Terrified for Sajhe, she dropped down to the ground, just as he came back into view. He was ashen faced, his bottom lip trembling with exertion, and he was still clutching the wooden box.

“I led him into the marsh,” he said.

Alais put her hand on his shoulder. “I know. That was clever.”

“Was he a traitor too?”

She nodded. “I think that was what Esclarmonde was trying to tell us.” Alais pursed her lips together, glad her father had not lived to know it was Francois who had betrayed him. She shook the thought from her mind. “But what were you thinking, Sajhe? Why on earth were you carrying this box? It almost got you killed.”

“Menina told me to keep it safe.”

Sajhe“ stretched his fingers across the bottom of the box until he was able to press both sides at once. There was a sharp dick, then he turned the base, to reveal a flat, concealed drawer. He reached in and pulled out a piece of cloth.

“It’s a map. Menina said we would need it.”

Alais understood immediately. “She doesn’t mean to come with us,” she said heavily, fighting the tears welling up in her eyes.

Sajhe shook his head.

“But why didn’t she tell me?” she said, her voice shaking. “Could she not trust me?”

“You would not have let her go.”

Alais let her head fall back against the tree. She was overwhelmed with the magnitude of her task. Without Esclarmonde she didn’t know how she could find the strength to do what was required of her.

As if he could read her mind, Sajhe said: “I’ll look after you. And it won’t be for long. When we have given the Book of Words to Harif, we will come back and find her. Si es atal es atal.‘ Things will be as they will be.

“That we should all be as wise as you.”

Sajhe flushed. “This is where we have to go,” he said, pointing at the map. “It doesn’t appear on any map, but Menina calls the village Los Seres.”

Of course. Not just the name of the guardians, but also a place.

“You see?” he said. “In the Sabarthes Mountains.”

Alais nodded. “Yes, yes,” she said. “At last, I think I do.”