“That’s always the case,” Edgar agreed, wondering why the subject seemed to embarrass the man.
“I think one of us should stay in the main passage and the other two explore the side paths,” Brehier suggested. “Perhaps Martin and I can go. If we find anything, Martin can come back for you. If we don’t return in the time of ten Nostre Pères, then you should go back for help. Is that agreeable to you?”
Edgar nodded. He hated being the one left back, but had to admit that Martin and his cudgel would be of more use if there were something at the end of the tunnel waiting to attack.
Brehier went first. As he was about to follow, Edgar drew Martin aside.
“Watch yourself,” he warned. “Brehier seems an honest man, but with all that’s happened here, it’s better to be on guard.”
“Don’t worry, Master,” Martin said. “I’ve learned a number of tricks from Master Solomon. He always expects trouble.”
As he waited and recited Virgil in his head to count the time, Edgar reflected that Martin would be fine.
They weren’t gone long.
“Nothing,” Brehier said. “A short passage ending in a rock wall. There’s another just a few steps up.”
They went through the same procedure at the next opening. Edgar was reaching the end of his memory of Aeneas’ journey when he heard a call echoing from the darkness.
“Coming!” he called back and hurried down the tunnel.
He found Brehier and Martin standing in the cave Brehier had described. A lantern stood on a rock and next to it was a pile of wolf skins and a linen bed cloth. On the floor was a basket. Edgar peered into it. There were bits of cheese stuck to the bottom.
“Someone’s been here recently,” he said. “Do you think he heard us coming and ran?”
“No,” Brehier said. “There’s only one way out.”
“So he must have come here right after we found Raimbaut’s body,” Edgar said. “Ate and slept perhaps and then left, but where to?”
“He may be planning to return,” Brehier suggested. “Maybe he went to find more food.”
“Maybe,” Edgar said. “Brehier, there are any number of ways down here from inside the keep. Is there also a way out?”
“You mean into the village?” Brehier asked. “Not that I know of, and Guillaume and I hunted long enough. A way past the guards after Compline would have been all the treasure we could have asked for back then.”
“But could there be?” Edgar persisted.
“I suppose,” Brehier admitted. “We never found the end of some of these tunnels. But, as far as I know, no one’s ever found one.”
“Master?” Martin said quietly.
“Yes?” Edgar turned to him.
“When we first met Lord Aymon, he was out hunting near here,” Martin began. “We took the road, and he said he would go back through the woods.”
“I remember,” Edgar said.
“Well,” Martin went on slowly. “I thought that he would ride on some forest path.”
“Of course,” Brehier said. “And so he did. I saw him in the hall shortly before you arrived.”
“Forgive me, my lord.” Martin hunched as he spoke to diminish his effrontery. “Did you see him ride in? Because I noted his horse and, when I went to the stables, it wasn’t there.”
“What?” Brehier said. “Are you certain?”
“Is there another place he might have left it?” Edgar asked. “In the village?”
“No.” Brehier shook his head. “And no reason for him to.”
“That’s very interesting, Martin.” Edgar looked at him with
approval. “I wonder where the tunnel comes out. It must be close to the forest.”
Brehier was trying to comprehend this. When he realized what they were saying, his reaction was strong.
“That bastard found it!” he exclaimed. “The road to freedom! And didn’t share it with anyone! Guillaume will be furious.”
“But now that we know it exists, we can, too,” Edgar said. “Instead of traipsing around in the dark, we should go to the place where we first met Aymon. All we need to find is where he keeps the horse. The entrance to the tunnel must be near it.”
Solomon was overjoyed to see the towers of Boisvert in the distance. His passenger was testing the limits of his patience.
“Do you want me to take you to the castle to find your niece?” he asked.
“And have everyone in the town see me come in with you?” She poked his ribs. “A woman alone has to consider her reputation. No, leave me outside the town. I’ll make my own way in.”
“Whatever you wish,” Solomon said gratefully.
There were only two places to look for entertainers in the daytime. They weren’t in their beds, and so Catherine and Margaret went down to the village. They found them sitting on a bench outside the tavern, well into their second pitcher of beer.
“Dex vos saut, beautiful ladies!” The leader tried to rise and bow but was hampered by the bowl of porridge on his lap. “How may we serve you?”
“We’d like to know more about the chanson of Boisvert,” Catherine said. “Margaret, would you get these fine men another pitcher?”
“With pleasure.” Margaret vanished into the tavern.
Now the leader managed to stand. “Please, my lady.” He gestured dramatically toward the bench. “Join us and we shall give you a private recitation.”
Catherine took the offered seat, even though it was unidentifiably sticky.
“You needn’t trouble yourselves to that extent,” she told them. “I understand it takes several nights to tell the whole tale. I only want to ask you about part of it.”
“Give us beer and a little bread, my lady, and we are yours for as long as you like,” the leader told her. The other two men nodded agreement. “I am Alceste, and my comrades are Evander and Julus.”
“You all must have had very educated mothers,” Catherine commented.
“Indeed.” Alceste gave an ironic smile.
Margaret returned with the pitcher and filled their bowls.
“We are at your service, my ladies,” Alceste prompted.
Catherine looked to Margaret. This had been her idea.
“We don’t know the legend of Boisvert,” she began. “We’d like to know what it says about the treasure that Andonenn is guarding.”
Alceste leaned back and closed his eyes. He stayed that way so long that Margaret thought he had gone to sleep. Evander noticed her confusion.
“He has to go through the laisses in his head,” the jongleur explained. “You can’t just jump into the middle.”
All at once, Alceste came to life.
Louis the king was pious and brave
His people he wished for Christ to save
Nevermore that they be pagan lore’s slave
But Richard had vowed by the old king’s grave
To honor the final command he gave
And so by night he crept to the nave
Of Charles’ chapel, with only a stave
The treasure to rescue and hide in a cave
Though Queen Judith in anger might rave
There to guard it beneath the wave.
As he spoke, Evander automatically mimed the action of Richard creeping into the deserted chapel and taking something from a shelf. Then Julus became the angry queen, shaking her fist as Richard retreated with his prize.
“Does that help, my lady?” Alceste opened his eyes.
“There’s nothing more that says what the treasure was?” Margaret asked without much hope.
“No, only that it was something Louis thought smacked of pagan superstition,” Alceste answered. “And it can’t have been very big. The next laisse says that he put it in a bag and carried it on his horse.”
“Is it the same as the box that was opened last night?” Catherine asked.
“Oh, no.” Alceste leaned forward, looking into his beer as if it could read the future. “That’s very clear. The box conta
ins the key to the treasure.”
“Like a map?” Margaret wondered if the writing on the knife might be a code of some sort.
Alceste closed his eyes again. They all waited.
Open the lock in your darkest hour
Children of Andonenn needn’t cower
To save her you shall have the power
Follow the guide left in the tower
It will lead you to Andonenn’s bower
Fear neither storm nor shower
Insert the key into the flower
Find the treasure and win the dower.
Alceste opened his eyes and smiled at them. “Does that help?”
“I don’t remember that part,” Julus said.
“I don’t either,” Evander agreed. “The lines are too short to act properly.”
“It’s at the very end,” Alceste told them. “We hardly ever get that far.”
Catherine wished she had a writing tablet. These were the clearest instructions she’d ever heard in a poem. Of course, now they had to find a guide in a tower. And it did seem to ruin her theory about the knife having been in the box. There must be a real key somewhere. Did the person who stole it already have the guide?
It was looking worse for Aymon. She hoped he was found soon.
“Thank you,” she told the jongleurs. “That does help. We are grateful for your help.”
“How grateful, Lady Catherine?” Alceste asked with a smile.
Margaret fumbled in a bag at her waist and found three silver deniers. She handed them to the men. Alceste looked at it with approval.
“Coins of Troyes are always welcome.” He got up. “Come, brothers! We can now drink wine like the nobles.”
As they started down the path, they were forced to move aside for a man on horseback coming up. The sun was behind him, making his features hard to make out. When he saw Catherine, he stopped and dismounted. She squinted and then started in surprise.
Then he saw Margaret, already running toward him. His face lit with joy as she leapt into his arms.
“Solomon!” Margaret cried. “I’m so glad! I’ve missed you so very much.”
“And I you, precious.” He hugged her.
Looking over her shoulder, Solomon saw Catherine’s expression and all the happiness drained from his heart.
Thirteen
Sunday afternoon. The village of Boisvert.
Surge, vade, et dic populo Deo ne timeat, sed firmiter toto corde
credat in unum verum Deum; eruntque ubique victuri.
Rise up, go and tell the people of God not to be afraid but
with all their hearts believe firmly in the one true God; and
they shall be victorious everywhere.
—Gesta Francorum, Part 25
Solomon quickly released Margaret.
“I’m sorry, sweet,” he said. “For a moment, I forgot you were no longer ten years old.”
Her arms were shaking. “Yes, of course. How could I be so un-mindful of my age?” she stammered.
“Catherine!” Solomon called. “I have serious news. I need to speak with your grandfather.”
Catherine’s face changed at once. “Come with me,” she said.
They hurried up to the keep, Solomon leading his horse and walking with Catherine. Margaret followed slowly behind.
“Why is she here?” Solomon asked. “No one told me.”
Catherine explained about her mother, giving a rapid recitation of all that had happened since they arrived.
“Now, what is it that’s brought you here?” she asked.
“I should tell your grandfather first,” Solomon hedged. “He’s the lord here.”
“Seguin seems to be the one giving orders,” Catherine said. “But with one son dead and the other missing, he may not be too receptive.”
“Catherine.” Solomon stopped in the road to gape at her. “Don’t you ever go anywhere peaceful?”
“Apparently not,” she answered, linking her arm in his. “Solomon, we really need to have a talk.”
He pulled away. “No, we don’t. Please take me to whoever is commanding the defense of this place. I have no time for any other discussion.”
“Of course.”
Catherine led him into the bailey and waited while he saw to his horse. Margaret joined her a moment later, flushed and ill at ease.
“How silly of me to be so bold,” she said. “I might as well have been Edana’s age. Don’t tell my brother, will you?”
Catherine looked at her sad, pleading expression and her heart ached for both of them. Why couldn’t Margaret have an easier life?
“I won’t say a word,” she assured the girl. “As long as you don’t forget yourself again.”
“I won’t.” Margaret sounded defeated. “I’ll go in and see if Seguin has returned from hunting for Aymon.”
“A good idea. Thank you,” Catherine said.
Solomon returned soon. He didn’t ask where Margaret had gone.
“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” he told Catherine.
“I do.” She understood the unspoken apology. “Are we in danger? Should we return to Paris?”
“I don’t think there’s time,” he said.
They entered the hall and found only Gargenaud and his wife, Briaud, waiting for them.
“I was told that a stranger had ridden into the village and was coming this way,” he greeted them. “I sent the girl to find Seguin, but if you have a message to deliver, then give it to me. I’m still lord here.”
Solomon bowed to him.
“I bring news from Anjou,” he said. “Olivier de Boue has raised an army and is proceeding toward Boisvert with great speed. I have this from people who have seen them and fled their homes before his advance. You have no more than a day or two in which to send for aid and gather your people into the keep.”
He bowed again.
Gargenaud sat motionless. Catherine wondered if he understood what Solomon had said. Then he raised his arm.
“Briaud,” he told his wife. “Have the bells rung. Send my bailiff to me at once.”
She nodded and withdrew.
“Thank you, young man.” Gargenaud waved him away. “Go down to the kitchens and tell them I said to feed you.”
“Grandfather,” Catherine interrupted. “This is my husband’s partner, not a paid messenger.”
“He’s not hungry?” Gargenaud asked.
Solomon touched Catherine’s arm. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Seguin!” Gargenaud shouted. “I told you that bastard was going to attack. Seguin!”
He noticed Catherine. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Go fetch my grandson at once!”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Catherine bobbed quickly and ran from the room.
Edgar knew they were nearing the surface again when he heard the bells.
“How long were we down there?” he asked Brehier. “It can’t be Vespers, yet.”
“We only ring the church bells on Sunday morning and holy days,” Brehier told him. “That’s the alarm. We need to get back at once.”
At an underground junction farther on they ran into Guillaume and his group.
“Is it fire?” Guillaume asked, his memory of disaster still fresh.
“Don’t know,” Edgar panted. “How much farther to the hall?”
“Not far now.” Guillaume was running, too. “I don’t hear any screams.”
“Is that good or bad?” Martin asked Edgar.
“Neither. It just means the children aren’t there.”
The men exploded into the hall, swords and cudgels ready to attack.
The huge room was empty.
At the first clang of the bells, people had poured from every cranny of the castle. Samonie and Marie arrived, herding children before them, the youngest on their hips. Soon after, Agnes, her husband, and her household followed. In between came servants and the few ladies of the court, supporting Elisse
nt. Last came an angry Seguin.
“Who ordered those bells to be rung?” he shouted.
“I did,” Gargenaud answered. He strode into the hall, back straight as if he had just dropped twenty years. “We have to prepare for a siege. Everyone! Out to the bailey!”
Catherine stepped out onto the staircase down to the bailey, pushed by the others. She looked down and felt as if she were about to descend into a flood. People were pouring through the gates and across the drawbridge. It appeared that the entire village was trying to fit into the space. Some were pulling goats and pigs, or carrying cages of chickens or rabbits.
Samonie nudged her from behind. Catherine took a deep breath and plunged into the crowd.
Halfway down, she spotted Margaret’s red braids. Pushing with her elbows, she managed to clear a path to her.
“What’s happening?” Margaret asked.
It was Marie who answered. She leaned against the castle wall to catch her breath.
“Everyone knows that when the bells sound, the entire village should head for the protection of the keep,” she told them. “We have the same custom at Vielleteneuse.”
Catherine surveyed the chaos around her. “Wouldn’t it be better just for a few select villagers to see what was wrong first?”
Marie shook her head. “There might not be time. It could be flood, fire, or invasion. Better to have everyone safe.”
Now it did seem to Catherine that people were collecting, as she had done, in family groups, counting noses, staking out a space. Some even had the presence of mind to bring bedding.
She wished Edgar would return. There was no sign of Solomon, either. Where had he vanished to?
“Mama!” James tugged on her sleeve. “Is there going to be a battle? Can I fight, too?”
“No, and of course not!” Catherine told him sharply.
James glared up at her, then sat on the ground, arms crossed, with a face of stubborn anger. Catherine sighed. Samonie handed Peter to her. Of course he was hungry again. She held him up and looked at him sternly.
“Don’t you become like your brother,” she warned. “I couldn’t manage two of you.”
She sat on the ground beside her sulking son.
As she waited for Peter to finish nursing, Catherine looked around the bailey. Things were becoming more organized. People had found places for themselves and all were now waiting tensely for someone to tell them why they had been summoned. When Gargenaud appeared on the landing above them, in mail and helm, a spontaneous cheer went up.
The Witch in the Well: A Catherine LeVendeur Mystery Page 21