Luke answered immediately. ‘I told him I was hopelessly in love with you, and I hoped you felt the same way about me.’
The joy she had been feeling suddenly overflowed. Tears flooded her eyes once more and rolled down her cheeks. She snuggled even more tightly against him. ‘Luke, I need you to hold me tight please.’ She heard the leather upholstery creak and his arms envelop her even more tightly, pulling her halfway out of her seat and across the centre armrest. She sank her face into his shoulder and sobbed her heart out.
‘Are you all right? Is something wrong?’ She could hear the concern in his voice. ‘Is it something I’ve said?’
She pulled her head from his chest and reached for his face with her hands again. She drew him so close to her, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.
‘Yes, Luke, it’s something you’ve said.’ She was smiling now, even though the tears still ran. ‘You’ve said the words I’ve so longed to hear from you.’ She kissed him hard on the lips and felt him respond. She hugged him tightly to her for several minutes before she finally, reluctantly, pulled back and set about mopping up her tears. It took her a while before she could talk properly once more.
‘It’s all right, Luke, I’m all right. In answer to your question, yes, I love you dearly. Be in no doubt about that.’ She was smiling broadly now.
Unable to resist, he leant across and caught hold of her again, pulling her gently towards him. She raised her head and smiled as she stretched her arms around his neck and kissed him, loving the feel of his hands on her. She abandoned herself against him as the rain beat down and the wind whistled round the car. It was a long while before they both paused for breath.
She grinned at him and her heart sang. The impossible had finally happened. The gloom that had settled upon her in the wake of her plunge into blindness suddenly lifted. She felt happy, no, she told herself, that was too weak a word. She felt totally, overwhelmingly, earth-shatteringly imbued with a new sense of purpose, of satisfaction and of hope, all brought about by a few words from this wonderful man. She savoured the moment before straightening up and returning to her side of the car. She ran her hands across her hair once more and down over her body, tidying her rumpled jumper, sensing his eyes upon her. Now it was her turn to swallow hard as she knew that a watershed had been crossed and another was surely approaching. They sat in silence for a few minutes until a particularly hard gust of wind reminded her of events outside the warm interior of the car. She turned towards him, deeming it time to return to more mundane matters.
‘Here we are in the month of May and it’s like winter out there. Brr, I bet our couple found it hard going if the weather was like this.’ She reached over and took his hand again. ‘I suppose pilgrims died in conditions like this way back then.’
He gave her fingers a squeeze in return. He had to clear his throat before he could respond, and she was delighted to hear the emotion still there as he tried to sound normal after their moments of passion. ‘Not just way back then. Every year there are a number of fatalities on the Pilgrims’ Way. There’s even a special mass to remember them. No, you need to be pretty hardy to do the whole thing on foot. The couple of pilgrims we saw out there on the road have disappeared into the mist.’
‘But our two managed it all right.’ She had no doubts. ‘I’m sure of that. Maybe we’ll meet up with them again at Ponferrada.’
The journey down the other side of the pass was like driving through a river in full spate. Streams and drains overflowed, and spouts of brown water gushed out onto the road. Mud and loose stones were washed into their path. It wasn’t an easy drive and Luke was very glad to be in a big, solid vehicle with four-wheel drive.
Their accommodation for the night was outside the town in an old farmhouse, set on the side of the hill, with a view down over the town to the magnificent old Templar castle. Fortunately, by the time they got there, the rain had eased and the cloud had lifted. There was no doubt, however, that the view beyond the town, over the jumbled mass of hills ahead of them towards Compostela, would certainly be daunting for people on foot.
‘We have a sunset.’ Luke’s voice sounded cheerful. ‘After all the rain and cloud up on the pass, we appear to be getting some better weather down here.’
‘What’s the farmhouse like?’ She stretched and reached for the door handle.
It was magnificent. The Casa Rural had recently been converted into very comfortable accommodation. They were shown to their rooms by a charming Romanian girl whose English was as fluent as her Spanish. The rooms were side by side and they were the only guests. The Romanian girl accompanied Amy to her room and showed her how everything worked. Luke left them to it and went into his room, closing the door behind him and throwing his bag onto the large bed. He heard Amy’s door shut as the Romanian girl departed and he was about to go out into the corridor to her door to see if she needed anything when he heard a gentle tap on the wall. He glanced round and discovered a cunningly concealed communicating door that he unbolted and opened. Behind the door was another door on her side that she had opened.
‘Clever, eh?’ She ran one hand up the shiny surface of the door and reached out for him with her other. ‘Our own private entrance.’ Stepping aside she beckoned to him to come into her room. Being here with him like this heightened the intimacy of their relationship and she felt a knot in her stomach. When they were standing in the middle of the room, directly in front of the huge double bed, face to face, she wondered if similar thoughts were going through his mind. She felt nervous, shy even, but also excited. For the first time, she felt a real sensual wave come over her in his presence and she actually felt her knees go weak. She swallowed hard, unsure what was going through his head.
‘Do you want me to go?’ He coughed, cleared his throat and had two or three tries before he managed to get the words out. Amy realised with a rush of affection that he was similarly affected by the situation. She pulled him towards her until they were touching, her head level with his shoulders. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, bending his face down towards her. His lips touched hers, his arms encircled her waist and he straightened up again, lifting her feet from the floor and pressing her whole body against his. They kissed with a passion which confirmed, if confirmation were required, that their relationship had progressed to another level. She abandoned herself against him and let the warmth of the embrace reach down inside her, sweeping away the pain and sadness and replacing it with a glow of joy.
Eventually he set her gently back down on her feet again and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her gently towards him until she, too, reached the bed. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him with her legs and pushed him gently back until he was sprawled on the bed. She felt his arms reach round behind her and crush her to his body. She hoped he could see her face. She knew she was smiling from ear to ear.
Chapter 27
Pilgrims’ Way, Northern Spain, May 1314
It was early evening and the sun had long since disappeared behind the hills that encircled the town. It would soon be dark enough for them to risk an approach. Both of them were tired after a relentless series of wearying marches and Aimée had developed a persistent hacking cough over the past few days in the high mountains as they climbed up and over the Monte Irago Pass. It was terribly exposed and windswept up there and Aimée had been exhausted by the time they reached the summit, and Luc little better. Although the road was clear, drifts of snow still filled the ditches, and it was freezing cold. As they began the long descent, the rain started. The next day, the fever struck her and Luc realised that she needed shelter and rest, very urgently. He uttered heartfelt prayers that the castle at Ponferrada would still have friendly faces waiting for them.
Now, finally, they were in Ponferrada. At long last, the castle was within reach. Luc was pinning his hopes on what the Abbot of Santa Cristina had told him, as he passed on his leather cloak to Luc. The first thing to do was to establish whether or not the T
emplars were still there. Aimée was lying stretched out beside him in the sodden heather, wrapped in her fur-lined cloak. She was half asleep, regularly wracked by violent coughing fits. He stole a worried glance across at her, before concentrating his attention on the castle, barely visible in the twilight as dusk fell.
It was set in a dominating position, partway up the hillside overlooking the river. It was massive, and reminded him of the enormous crusader castles that had sheltered him in the Holy Land. There were two lines of defensive walls, both crowned by battlements and walkways for the defending troops. A massive stone keep, quite literally a castle within a castle, rose up at the highest point. Such a fortress would be virtually impossible to storm. His hopes rose that he might indeed find other remnants of the Order inside.
There was another painful bout of coughing from the little figure beside him and he realised that time was not on their side. If she didn’t get into the warm soon, he could see her condition deteriorating more and more. He reached down and laid his hand on her hair.
‘It’s time for me to go and look for our friends.’ His voice was deliberately more confident than he felt. She wasn’t fooled.
‘Have you seen any signs of Templars?’ Her voice was a croak.
‘No.’ He answered cautiously. ‘But I haven’t seen any signs of the enemy either. In fact it looks pretty dead. What I’m hoping is that there’s a rearguard of Templars left behind. Hopefully, the main garrison escaped to safety, maybe to Portugal where we’re supposed to be heading.’ He stroked her hair as she broke down into a fit of coughing once more, her whole body shaken by the force of the attack. Finally she rallied enough to be able to murmur:
‘Take care, Luc. They may be waiting for you. Please God you may succeed.’
‘Amen.’ He murmured in his turn and added quietly, ‘Don’t move from here. Stay wrapped up and try to keep warm. I’ll be back shortly.’
He bent and kissed her on the forehead. Then he straightened up and started to make his way down the hill. Aimée curled herself up as tightly as she could into her cloak and did her best not to give way to the shivers that threatened to engulf her. What if he was intercepted and captured? Could it be that he had just walked out of her life forever? Would he find what he was seeking, and would he be able to find her again when he came back? She bit her lip to hold back not only the shivering but also the tears that were so close to flowing.
The sky was overcast and there were neither stars nor moon to light his way. His progress was hesitant. Every now and then he stopped to check his bearings, looking back up the hill towards the spot where he had left her. He was all too aware of how easy it would be to miss her in the darkness. The wind was icy and he wrapped his leather cloak tightly around his shoulders, hoping that she would be warm enough until his return. The huge bulk of the castle loomed closer and he could smell the burning tar of torches at the gate. He crept closer and closer until he was less than fifty paces from the heavily fortified entrance. He sank down behind a rock and searched the shadows for any signs of life, looking for any clue as to the present occupants of the castle. Nothing moved.
He looked down the hillside and saw a series of low-roofed houses just above the riverbank. From the end one he could just make out a flickering light. Silently, he slipped away from his boulder and down towards that faint golden glow. Approaching the house he saw that it was candlelight, escaping through a broken shutter. He crept to the window, easing himself up until he could look inside. At first he could distinguish little, apart from a fire burning brightly in an open fireplace directly across the room from him. Then he saw a slight movement. He realised that someone was sitting directly in front of the fire, shoulders to the window. It was impossible to see whether this was a man or a woman or, indeed, whether there was anyone else in the room, outside his field of vision.
He crouched down and thought hard. The darkness around him was total, his night vision temporarily ruined by the candlelight. It was probably this as much as anything which made his mind up for him. He reached out, slipped his hand through the broken plank and was pleased to feel the wooden bar that held the shutters together. With a jerk he wrenched it out of its brackets and pulled the shutter outwards towards him. He sprang through and leapt into the room feet first, his knife in his hand. Pulling the shutter closed behind him to protect his back, he straightened up.
The figure in the chair started to move, but slowly, terribly slowly. Luc stepped forward, the flames of the fire reflecting off the vicious blade in his right hand. He was barely a few feet from the back of the chair. He knew that he could slit the other’s throat without difficulty if it came to it. The candlelight struck the side of the face that turned towards him and he stopped in his tracks. The face before him was that of a woman. More than that, it was the face of an old woman, her hair white as snow. Her cheeks were deeply wrinkled, and her skin looked like dry parchment. He lowered the point of the knife so as not to frighten her any further. Then she spoke, and the surprise was his.
‘Luc? Luc? It is you, isn’t it?’ Her voice was stronger than her outward appearance. He was stunned. ‘Come here into the light and let me see you again. Come.’
She held out her hands towards him. He felt himself drawn irresistibly across the room to the fireside.
‘God be praised. It is you.’ Her voice was awestruck. ‘You did it. You managed to get here. May the Lord God Almighty bless you and keep you, for you are our salvation.’ As she spoke, the memories came rushing back. He saw her face, this same face, refined and elegant, framed by the branches of an olive tree, the burning sun of Cyprus casting a moving pattern of light and shade across her. And alongside her was her brother Theobald Gaudin, the previous Grand Master of the Order. Luc sank to his knees, slid the knife out of sight up his sleeve and prayed aloud, the words of the Gloria in Excelsis coming spontaneously to his lips.
‘Glory be to God on high…’ As he recited the words, she joined in and they both crossed themselves thankfully. Finally he opened his eyes and saw her holding out her hands to him. He knelt before her and let her encircle his shoulders with her arms. She didn’t rise. From the walking stick beside her chair, he could see that this would be difficult for her. He stood up again, warmed by the fire and heartened by her unexpected presence. His joy was cut short by her next words.
‘They’ve all left, Luc.’
He felt as if he had been slapped across the face. His hopes, so wonderfully raised, were now suddenly dashed. He sat down heavily on a stool by the fireside.
‘My lady Alice, would you tell me all you know, please?’
‘The whole garrison left the castle some months ago. Now it’s nominally in the hands of the King of León, but in fact there’s nobody left, apart from half a dozen caretakers. Those who could headed west towards Santiago de Compostela. From there they hoped to continue down the coast into Portugal. Those who were too old, or too sick, entrusted themselves to the king’s men.’ Her tone soured. ‘In consequence they’re now rotting in the dungeons of León.’
‘And you, my lady? Did you not wish to follow the others to Portugal?’
‘As you know, my dear brother died more than twenty years ago. I was deemed a harmless old cripple, so they left me alone.’ In spite of her words, there was a twinkle in her eye.
Luc knew that she had enjoyed a privileged position as confidante to many of the leaders of the Order. This included the last Grand Master, Jacques de Molay, and Luc’s own brother Geoffroi. Evidently, by virtue of this, she had been chosen to await his arrival.
‘So what do I do now?’ Luc’s voice was low, as was his morale. ‘Come to think of it, how could you be sure that I would happen upon you like this?’
‘You’re right, Luc.’ Surprisingly, the old lady’s voice was anything but dejected. He looked up in surprise. ‘I could hardly count upon your identifying this house and climbing through the window instead of using the door.’ There was a dry note in her voice. He glanced across to wh
ere the stout wooden bar that served to lock the shutters in place was lying on the floor. He murmured an apology that she either didn’t hear, or chose to ignore.
‘I was relying upon your honouring your promise to the Abbot of Santa Cristina.’ Luc sat up, wondering how she could possibly have known about that. ‘You were to seek out the Master of the castle of Ponferrada to return his cloak to him. That very same cloak that you’re wearing now, isn’t it, Luc?’ He nodded dumbly, his brain working a few steps slower than hers.
A broad smile spread over her face, as she continued her explanation. ‘I took the precaution of, shall we say, liberally supplementing the income of the caretakers of the castle. They would have referred you to me if you had made contact.’ She sat back, hugely satisfied, as he strove to make sense of what she had said. How could she have possibly known what the abbot could have said to him unless… his brain started to put two and two together. Her voice interrupted his thoughts.
‘Are you alone, or do you have a travelling companion?’
He nodded, very aware of Aimée’s present predicament. ‘I’m travelling with the wife of my predecessor, Bernard.’
‘And where is she now?’
Luc was all too aware of Aimée still lying out on the open. ‘I left her in hiding, out on the hillside.
‘In this weather? You must fetch her, Luc.’
‘Thank you, my lady, I’ll go and bring her here. I am afraid that she’s far from well, having caught a fever some days ago. She’s sorely in need of warmth and rest.’
He left immediately, this time by the door.
The wind had started to pick up. It brought with it increasingly heavy rain that beat against the thick leather of the cloak. He picked his way up the hill towards the place he had left Aimée. It took him some minutes to regain his night vision and still longer to get his bearings in the pitch dark. The hillside itself was virtually featureless. He scrambled frantically from one rocky outcrop to another, almost despairing of finding her again. The rain fell harder and harder, drenching him in spite of the cloak. He felt water run down his back and shivered with cold. He spared a thought for Aimée, already cold and sick, and now surely soaked as well.
Chasing Shadows Page 23