Chasing Shadows

by Chasing Shadows (retail) (epub)

  Put like that he had little choice in the matter so, after relieving himself, he returned to the room, bolted the door securely, removed his boots and stretched out gratefully on the mattress as far as possible from the little figure under the blankets. He blew out the candle, snuffing it completely with dampened fingers, mindful of the innkeeper’s words and the fact that the mattress was filled with straw. He looked across in the pitch dark and whispered, ‘Good night.’

  There was no reply. She must have gone out like a light.

  Chapter 10

  Jaca, Spanish Pyrenees, April 2016

  The hotel they found in Jaca turned out to be really splendid. Luke and Amy were greeted warmly by a lady who was probably the owner and were accompanied to what looked like a newly refurbished suite of two bedrooms, each with immaculate marble-clad bathrooms. There was a shared dayroom, looking out onto a snowy terrace. On top of this, the price was little more than the cost of a single room in Paris for one night.

  As he had done at each hotel since setting off from England, he led Amy into her room and gave her a brief tour, talking her through the facilities, particularly the bathroom. The sensation of disquiet at being with her in these intimate surroundings had diminished, but not disappeared, over the days they had been travelling together. He took a look at his watch.

  ‘Great. It’s almost eight, so we should get something to eat before too long.’

  ‘Give me ten minutes to change. I feel decidedly rumpled.’ He looked at her surreptitiously and failed to see even the slightest hint of rumpling, but decided to let her be the judge of that.

  ‘Okay. I’ll wait for you in the bar downstairs if you feel happy about meeting me there. Just down one flight of steps and the first door on the left before you reach the reception desk. I could…’

  ‘… murder a beer.’ She laughed. ‘Go and have your beer and I’ll be down shortly.’

  He threw his bag onto his bed in the next room, reminded her that the key to the apartment was in the door and made his way downstairs. The hotel had obviously had a serious makeover in the last few months and the bar downstairs was a comfortable cocktail bar. He settled down in a corner seat and ordered a large beer. The barman took him at his word and brought a hefty half-litre mug full of light yellow beer, tears of condensation running down the outside.

  He took a long draught of beer and stretched his legs. It had been a long day. He thought back to the snowy wilderness they had crossed. With the Range Rover they at least had been able to get over the pass in comfort. It was sobering to think that millions upon millions of pilgrims had passed that very same way on foot over the last thousand years. The numbers involved were truly awesome. A multitude of people, rich and poor, all heading for Compostela and so many of them seeking the one single most important prize, the remission of their sins. As he drained the glass, he reflected that pilgrims had probably been draining glasses in this very same spot for centuries.

  ‘Una mas.’ He caught the barman’s eye and watched as another glass was poured and brought over. He sipped it appreciatively and looked around the bar. Most of the other clients appeared to be locals; men and women, with a thin scattering of foreign visitors. His thoughts returned, as they did so often, to Amy. Of course it was inevitable that two people, thrown together in close proximity for more than a fortnight, would either grow closer together or begin to get on each other’s nerves. There was no doubt that he was drawing closer and closer to her and his sense of impropriety resurfaced. He had been employed to act as her guide, not to take advantage of her vulnerability.

  ‘Are you still on the first one?’

  He looked up with a start and saw Amy’s face smiling down at him, the proprietor at her shoulder. Luke reached up and took her hand, guiding her onto the bench seat beside him.

  The waiter came over and asked what she wanted. ‘A glass of cava, please.’ Luke was about to translate when the barman nodded and wandered off. ‘So how many beers have you had?’

  ‘I must confess I’ve already had one beer, but I reckon that drive merits a bit of relaxation. By the way, there’s a little bowl of peanuts right in front of your left hand.’ He watched her reach out and take a few. He followed suit, then washed them down with some more of the beer.

  At that moment the glass of sparkling wine appeared and he pushed it across the table until it rested gently against her hand. She took a sip and licked her lips appreciatively. He did his best not to concentrate on her lips. He took a mouthful of beer and let his eyes rest on her for a moment. The linen shirt looked expensive and almost certainly was. Her hair was newly combed, and pinned up rather than tied back, which gave her an added air of sophistication. Her face bore no trace of makeup, but didn’t need it. The shirt was just tight enough across her body to reveal the swell of her breasts and he looked away hastily.

  ‘So who or what was he looking for at Santa Cristina? It can’t have been anything too heavy as he would have had to carry it. So no cartloads of treasure or anything like that.’

  Luke jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice and returned his attention to their story. For a moment he felt like reminding her that this was, after all, just their invention. There was no logical reason why there should be an explanation. But the idea passed as he saw the concentration on her face. Of course this was heightening the experience for her. Unable to see the mountains, abbeys, villages and countryside, she needed some extra stimulus. He tried to think it through, just as if they were dealing with a real event. Why not? He thought to himself. Who’s to say it isn’t?

  He tried a few suggestions.

  ‘So not treasure, then?’

  He watched her face. An expression of annoyance crossed it and she snorted. He tried again.

  ‘Revenge?’

  There was a pause as she thought about it. ‘Not this man. Anyway, if it’s revenge he’s seeking, then surely he’d do better to stay in France. Don’t forget, most of the Spanish and Portuguese didn’t believe for one moment all the lies that the King of France was putting about. The baddies are back in France, not over here. No, not revenge.’

  ‘Friendship? Loyalty? Love?’

  ‘All of those, but something more. He had a very special mission to accomplish, I’m sure of that.’ Her brows were knitted in concentration. ‘I know. Maybe the girl he’s travelling with can help him. After all, why take her with him otherwise? She would only slow him up.’

  ‘Maybe he liked her. Maybe more.’ His old familiar anxiety as to where the conversation might be leading returned, but she went on in a very matter-of-fact way.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he did like her, maybe even love her, but as a Templar he would have taken an oath of celibacy. So they weren’t lovers for sure.’ There was an awkward silence, which she finally broke. ‘Just because he’s a man and she’s a woman doesn’t automatically mean there’s a physical bond between them. They’re probably just friends.’ The tone of her voice had changed now and both of them heard it. She stopped, unwilling to go any further with the conversation and Luke decided it would be a very good idea to change the subject.

  ‘I suggest we head for a restaurant. I could eat a horse.’ He drained the last of the beer and stood up, gesturing to the waiter that they wanted to pay.

  Luke was awakened by urgent knocking at his bedroom door. He pulled himself up onto one elbow as the handle turned and Amy came rushing in. She was wearing a pair of stripy men’s pyjamas, and her hair hung tousled on her shoulders. Her expression was one of considerable excitement.

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ He watched with amusement as she made straight for the window and felt for the cord to open the roller blind. She pulled it as hard as she could and light flooded into the room. He was still squinting in the sudden brightness when she threw the window open and leant out perilously.

  ‘Hey, no suicide attempts before breakfast.’

  He would have run to grab her, but for the sudden realisation that he was naked beneath the blankets. This fa
ct unsettled him more than her apparently lemming-like behaviour. Then she was running back towards him, one arm held out. She bumped into the side of the bed and fell onto him, the outstretched arm catching him across his bare chest. He gave a very un-macho squeal, as he realised the outstretched arm was covered in thick, fluffy and extremely cold snowflakes. She gave a guffaw of laughter and rolled off him, a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Not bad for a blind girl who couldn’t get her window to open, eh?’ She was definitely very proud of herself. ‘Go on then, ask me how I knew it was snowing.’ She was kneeling on the floor now, with her elbows on the bed beside him. ‘Go on, ask.’

  ‘How did you know it was snowing, Amy?’ He affected an obedient tone.

  ‘I heard it.’ She really was very pleased with herself. ‘Or rather I didn’t hear it. I mean that I didn’t hear any of the normal morning noises you’d expect in a town this size. They were strangely muffled and the only thing that could have muffled them at this time of the morning was a thick snowfall. And it must be really thick. I haven’t heard a single car, not even a snowplough. For a Monday morning that’s really unusual, isn’t it?’ She looked up, disconcertingly, straight into his eyes. He felt the same sense of unease that he always felt when the glacier eyes looked through him.

  ‘Yes, pretty unusual. Especially for a place like this that must get loads of snow each year. Tell you what; I’ll put the television on. That might tell us a bit more.’ He looked around for the remote control and, to his discomfort, discovered it on the floor halfway between the bed and the TV. Gingerly, shyly, he slipped out of the other side of the bed and retrieved it, acutely aware of his nakedness. A quick glance at her face gave nothing away, as he slipped back under the protection of the sheets. Not, that was, until she spoke.

  ‘Do you always sleep with no clothes on?’

  He dropped the remote control onto the bed cover and very nearly knocked it back onto the floor again. He felt himself blush bright red.

  ‘Um yes, at least, sometimes.’ He cleared his throat and tried to affect a tone of normality. ‘How… why do you ask?’ His voice tailed off and the smile on her face broadened.

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ Her voice was full of pure mischief. She was enjoying herself now.

  ‘Um, I’m not sure I should, but yes, how did you know?’ He waited anxiously.

  ‘I didn’t.’ She giggled like a little girl. Her air of mischief increased even more. ‘Call it a wild guess, or divine inspiration.’

  ‘At least I see you have better taste in sleeping attire than I have.’ He tried to get the conversation back into less troubled waters. Once again there was the schoolgirl giggle.

  ‘This isn’t sleeping attire. I don’t wear these in bed. These are my clothes for wandering into strange men’s bedrooms.’

  This time he was determined not to let her have the satisfaction of embarrassing him again. ‘Did you say strange? Am I that abnormal?’

  ‘If you’re abnormal, who wants normality?’

  The expression on her face threw him once more into confusion. He did his best to return to practical matters. ‘If it’s snowing like there’s no tomorrow, what are we going to do? The Range Rover should get through just about anything, but I must admit I’m not that keen on a day of inching my way through thick snow, waiting for some moron to come sliding into the front of us.’

  ‘Besides which,’ Amy answered immediately, ‘I imagine the snowploughs will concentrate on the main road. They won’t get round to the minor roads for a good while.’

  He was interested. ‘What’s the significance of the minor roads? Isn’t there just one road down into Spain from here?’ He hadn’t looked at the map for a while, but he seemed to remember just the one red road leading down from Jaca.

  ‘Ah, but that’s the obvious way. The way they would be expecting him to take. I think his big secret’s to be found at the Monastery of San Juan de la Peña.’ Once again the note of satisfaction in her voice. She had obviously been thinking hard. He concentrated hard in his turn.

  ‘The Monastery of San Juan would be a hard day’s march off the beaten track. Why should the big secret be up there? And what is this secret anyway?’

  She settled herself on the floor by the side of the bed, her head on her hands as she started to feel her way though her explanation.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep last night, at least it took me a fair while before I finally dropped off. I spent ages thinking about our man, and our woman for that matter, and just what their mission might be. Where are we?’ Pretty obviously she wasn’t asking about the Hostal Somport in Jaca. ‘We’re in the spring of the year 1314, aren’t we?’ She didn’t wait for his reply. ‘The secret has to be something linked to the Templars.’ Her voice halted, as she thought hard. He set about thinking hard too.

  ‘Remember the Templars were supposed to have had close links with the Arabs. Arab culture was streets ahead of Western culture in those days, particularly as far as mathematics and the sciences generally were concerned. Maybe the big secret was the proof that the earth really goes round the sun, two centuries before Galileo, or that the earth wasn’t flat after all.’ He looked down at her.

  ‘What about the cathedrals?’ She nodded slowly as she followed his line of thought. ‘It was around then that the broken-arch Gothic style hit Europe. Buildings suddenly started to be taller and taller. To most people it was a mystery the masons kept very close to their chests. There are those who would have had the Templars as the source of the information. Yes, that might well be it.’ Her voice was more excited. ‘Maybe they were going to pick up a document of some kind. A theorem or a calculation. You could be right.’

  ‘Mind you…’ He was teasing her now. ‘It might have been an object. Don’t forget that the Middle Ages were the time of holy relics. Bits of saintly bodies were being carted all round Europe. How about a piece of the True Cross, straw from the stable in Bethlehem or a thorn from the crown of thorns?’ She turned her face towards him, her expression puzzled.

  ‘You’re right; it could have been anything like that. Wasn’t there a nun who bit off the finger of a mummified saint so she could take it back to her abbey? They were deeply into those things then. I wonder…’

  He lay back and wondered in his turn, partly about their medieval man and his mission, but more particularly about his own situation. He could smell the scent of her beside him and most probably she could smell him in her turn. She was beautiful and very, very desirable. In spite of all his good intentions, he felt a wave of emotion rising up in him. And there was no getting away from the fact that it felt very, very good. She was so close he could have reached out and taken her in his arms. She was silent at his side, happy and content, and if she had any worries about being in the same bedroom as a naked man, she was keeping them well hidden. For his part, he wondered what Father Tim would make of this scene. Unsurprisingly, her mind was running along similar tracks.

  ‘I wonder what my guardians would think if they saw us now.’ Clearly, she was only too aware of the situation in which she found herself. ‘It was bad enough getting them to agree to my coming on this trip with you. What on earth was I doing, travelling halfway round the world with a strange man?’ She raised her head. ‘I suspect neither of them has ever been any further than Eastbourne. Shock, horror, shame. I was bringing the family name into disrepute, consorting with this ruffian.’

  ‘It’s the Irish blood on my mother’s side.’ He was grinning.

  ‘And now, here I am in his bedroom…’

  ‘I think I might be out of a job.’ His voice sounded strained to both of them.

  She laughed, but it rang hollow. For an instant, Luke found himself imagining how he would feel if she were suddenly removed from his life. He swallowed hard. There was no doubt he would miss her terribly, even after less than a month together.

  He watched her face. It remained expressionless. He found himself wondering if she was aware of his inner turmoil. Maybe th
is might be the right time to come clean about his background, his doubts and his fears. He cleared his throat, searching for words, but she beat him to it.

  ‘Well, if we’re not going anywhere today, I’m off to wash my hair. In fact I might even go out and get it done properly. I have to look my best for this evening after all.’ She jumped to her feet and he found himself asking why.

  ‘The date, Dumbo. April 25th. Mean anything to you, does it?’ She stopped at the door and grinned back at him as he realised that it was his birthday. ‘I think a night out on the town might well be in order, don’t you?’

  Chapter 11

  Spanish Pyrenees, April 1314

  Luc yawned and stretched. It was a wonderful feeling to be comfortable and warm, away from the frozen misery of the midnight sledge ride. He lay back on the mattress and savoured the moment. After everything he had been through in the last weeks, without counting the stress of the previous seven years, it was a welcome luxury to be able to relax snug and as safe as could be hoped for. He reached up to move the blankets from his chest and throat and encountered another arm. Still half-asleep, he vaguely registered the fact that another body was draped against, no, clinging to his. He breathed in deeply and the scent of her filled his nostrils. In the wink of an eye he was wide-awake.

  She was deeply asleep, pressed tight up against him, her arm wrapped over his chest. He felt her warmth through the clothes they were wearing and the softness of her body against his. He froze. The overriding thought going through his head was that, all through the sham trial of the Templars, the Inquisitors had sought to prove that the Order had degenerated into licentiousness, vice and unnatural practices. He had been proud in the knowledge that he, like the vast majority of his fellows, had no such sins on his conscience. And yet here he was in bed with a woman. True to his beliefs and his vows, he had never been in a position of such intimacy with any person since his childhood days with his mother. He would have leapt from the bed to a confessional except for the fact that Aimée was sleeping so deeply.