The mystic rose

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Be quiet,' snapped de Bracineaux irritably.

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

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

'Preposterous!' said the abbess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Why?'

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

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

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

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

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

'Yes, of course,' said de Bracineaux as the last details of the explanation fell into place, 'you were with him in the church that day.' His face twisted in a paroxysm of hate and gloating triumph. 'So, Duncan had a daughter. I imagined he was alone, otherwise I would have finished you, too.'

The archbishop turned astonished eyes on the Grand Commander of Jerusalem. 'Is this true? You murdered her father?'

'I settled an old debt, yes,' replied de Bracineaux carelessly. 'As Defender of Jerusalem, it is my right to vanquish the enemies of the Holy Land – wherever I encounter them.'

'Very messy, my friend,' said d'Anjou, shaking his head slowly. He regarded Cait with an expression of delight that made her skin crawl. 'It seems you've made an extremely resourceful enemy. You want to be more careful.'

'Archbishop Bertrano,' said the abbess, 'I refuse to deliver the Sacred Chalice of Our Saviour into the hands of a self-confessed murderer. If we are to surrender the holy relic, I demand that it be given to Pope Adrian himself, and no one else.'

'From your hands to his, abbess,' answered Bertrano. 'In view of all that has come to light, I agree that would be best.'

'No!' roared de Bracineaux. 'That we will not do. It has been entrusted to me, and I will fulfil my duty.' He stepped nearer so that he towered over the abbess. 'I want the cup. Now. Give it over.'

'I will not.'

De Bracineaux's hand whipped out and caught the old woman on the cheek. The force of the blow snapped her head sideways and she staggered backwards. Cait caught her as she fell and bore her up.

'I will not ask you again, old woman.' De Bracineaux stood over the half-kneeling abbess. 'Bring me the cup.'

Brother Timotheus rushed to interpose himself between the Templar and the abbess. He raised his hands before the commander's face, crying 'Peace! Peace!'

'Fool, get out of my way.' De Bracineaux shoved the priest violently aside. The cleric fell, striking his head on the stone-flagged floor. He groaned and lay still.

All at once the villagers rose up with a shout. They had watched the conversations in bewildered silence, but an attack on their beloved priest was something they understood. They rushed forward in a mass, swarming over the commander, lashing at him with fists and feet.

'Sergeant!' roared de Bracineaux as he fell.

D'Anjou and Gislebert, swords in hand, leaped to defend the fallen commander. Two of the Templars near the door sprang forth, wading into the clot of people. Cait, still holding the abbess, moved back through the surging crowd, pulling the elderly woman back from the fray.

It was over in a moment. When the shouting and chaos subsided, three lay unconscious and four more were wounded. Gislebert, d'Anjou, and the two Templars stood over the commander with bloody swords, defying anyone else to come near. De Bracineaux climbed to his feet; he was bleeding from a split lip, and sputtering with rage. 'Get these people out of here!' he shouted, swinging his arm wildly in the direction of the cowering congregation. 'This outrage will be avenged. Get them out!'

The Templars started forwards, but before they could lay hands on any of the offending villagers the church door burst open. 'Master!' shouted the Templar soldier who entered. 'You are needed at once.'

From outside someone shouted, 'Moors!'

De Bracineaux whirled towards the open door. 'What?'

'Hurry, my lord. We are attacked.'