Angel Heart

by Marie Laval

  Suddenly, the content of the phial started glowing and changing shape.

  ‘Look!’ Karloff pointed to the piece of cloth which seemed to float inside the glass.

  ‘Give it to me.’ Uxeloup was so quick he seized the Cross before Marie-Ange could step away.

  ‘You are not worthy of the angel,’ Karloff protested. ‘He won’t come to you. Remember the parchment. Only a pure heart from the Keepers’ bloodline can touch it.’ He tried to wrestle the cross out of Malleval’s hands.

  It fell onto the ground, and the two men bent down to get at it.

  ‘That’s enough. Get up, both of you.’ Hugo’s voice echoed from a corner of the crypt.

  Marie-Ange’s heart leaped with relief as Hugo and her father walked towards her. Hugo had a dagger in one hand, and a pistol in the other. He gestured to Malleval and Karloff to step aside. Baldassare picked up the Cross and placed it on the tomb.

  ‘Where were you? I was so worried about you,’ Marie-Ange squeezed her father’s hand.

  ‘I was waiting here,’ he replied quietly.

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘I found the other entrance to the crypt. The one Anne de Beaujeu had walled in. The mortar had become brittle, it didn’t take long to break a passage into it.’

  He gestured to the Cross. ‘You must hurry now.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she objected.

  ‘Who are you?’ Uxeloup interrupted.

  ‘I am here to put things right,’ Baldassare answered calmly.

  ‘You are the envoy, aren’t you?’ Karloff asked. ‘The man from the Templar Order.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Karloff. There are no longer any Knights Templar. Did you kill Rochefort, and my men here?’ Uxeloup’s voice was raspy and breathless.

  ‘I don’t know what happened to Rochefort,’ Hugo replied. He sounded puzzled. ‘We were coming towards the crypt from the other side of the corridor when we heard him scream. But yes, we took care of these men when the torches blew out.’ He shoved the bodies on the ground with his boot. ‘And we will kill you both too if you move.’

  Karloff stepped towards Marie-Ange, a pleading look on his face. ‘Madame, please remember that my intentions are pure. I have nothing to do with Uxeloup.’

  Malleval laughed bitterly. ‘What are you talking about? We’re in this together, old fool.’

  ‘No we are not,’ Karloff retorted with passion. ‘I am here to talk with my angels, whereas you want the relic for yourself and for your father, this abomination over there.’ He pointed to the open coffin.

  ‘Shut up, both of you,’ Hugo ordered.

  He raised his hand, trying to touch the shadows which still hovered around. They were shades darker than darkness itself. A strange smell lingered around the crypt.

  ‘This smell, it reminds me of some place I’ve been, some dangerous place,’ he remarked. ‘And the shadows, what are they? They move then disappear…’

  ‘They are the Keepers’ souls,’ Baldassare said. ‘The eleven Great Templar Masters.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Hugo walked around, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘I remember. I have seen similar shadows before, in a mine in Poland where we hid during the Russian retreat. There were pockets of gas in there. We only just made it out before the place blew up. I wonder if…’

  ‘Saintclair, I am begging you, let me have the angel,’ Uxeloup pleaded. ‘Without it, I am a dead man. I will give you anything you want. I will give you your house back, of course, and half my fortune. Beauregard…anything! Please.’

  For a second Marie-Ange feared he was tempted to let the sick man get his hands on the relic, but he shook his head.

  ‘Malleval, this isn’t going to work, you should know that.’

  ‘Look,’ Karloff exclaimed, pointing to the tombstone.

  A strong light was now coming out of the phial. The shape of the piece of cloth had changed. It was as bright as moonlight and lit up the whole crypt.

  ‘The angel wing.’ Karloff looked around expectantly. ‘But where is he? According to the parchments the angel should appear now.’

  Next to him, Marie-Ange placed the Cross inside the hole at the centre of the tomb and turned her locket to the left. Immediately, with a loud creaking and grinding noise, the tomb descended into the ground, faster and faster, leaving a great black gap in the ground.

  ‘No,’ Uxeloup yelled and he threw himself onto the tombstone as it disappeared into the chasm.

  ‘Watch out!’ Hugo grabbed hold of Marie-Ange and held her tight to keep her from falling in. She buried her face in his shoulder as the tomb disappeared with Malleval still clinging to it leaving only a gaping hole inside the crypt.

  Hugo leant forward and peered into the pit.

  ‘Where has Malleval gone? I can’t see anything.’

  ‘This smell again…’ He turned back to Baldassare. ‘I think we have to get out of here, fast.’

  He pulled Marie-Ange’s hand and Baldassare pushed Karloff forward. The physician didn’t offer any resistance. He seemed broken, lifeless.

  ‘Hugo, look!’ Marie-Ange turned round and pointed to the shadows. They had changed shape yet again to become tall and lean, like men. They hovered in a circle in the middle of the crypt where the tomb had been.

  ‘Hurry!’ He urged. He towed her in his wake as he ran from the crypt.

  ‘Can’t you hear? The walls are giving in,’ Baldassare cried. ‘The moat waters are coming through.’

  They finally reached the stairs. As they started climbing, there was a blinding flash of light, followed by a sucking noise. It was as if the darkness was breathing in.

  ‘Get up the stairs,’ Hugo shouted, pulling Marie-Ange behind him. ‘It’s going to blow up!’

  The explosion was deafening and rocked the very foundations of the tower. Blocks of stone fell around them and the walls caved in under the pressure of the moat waters. Hugo was the first one to reach the entrance. He lifted Marie-Ange out, half-carrying her into the courtyard and then helped Baldassare and Karloff to safety. Seconds later, the ground shook underneath them. The Tower of Eight Beatitudes swayed in the fading evening light, but didn’t fall.

  ‘It’s over,’ Baldassare said. ‘Nobody will find the crypt ever again.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘It may be over,’ Marie-Ange remarked, ‘but I can’t help feeling I failed.’ She stood next to her father. The horizon was bleeding to the west as a bright red sun set behind the castle towers where stars already glittered in a sapphire coloured sky to the east.

  ‘What makes you say that, daughter? The Cross is back where it should be.’

  ‘Perhaps, but the Templar tomb is destroyed along with the treasure and the crypt.’ And I lost my mother’s locket, she added to herself. The loss stung, it was one of the few things she possessed of her mother’s.

  Baldassare shrugged. ‘You returned the Cross and the relic where they belonged. You fulfilled your duty.’ He sighed. ‘Men died tonight because of their arrogance and stupidity. Malleval thought he and his father could join the immortal beings. Become angels. He angered the Keepers and fell into the pit of hell.’

  Hugo was tying his horse to the back of the carriage. He stopped and looked at the Tower of Eight Beatitudes.

  ‘I don’t believe in the mysteries, Templar ghosts, or eternal damnation,’ he said. His face was stern, he looked angry. ‘The explosion was caused by a trap laid by Guichard de Beaujeu centuries ago and a build up of gas. As for Uxeloup,’ his voice became thoughtful, ‘he was killed by his own madness. I shall never forget how he threw himself into that hole in the ground…’

  He patted the horse’s neck and leant against it for a moment. He straightened up. ‘I’ll check the grounds while there’s still light. Who knows? Maybe there’s a chance Uxeloup and Rochefort survived after all.’

  His tall figure disappeared into the thickening shadows.

  ‘He will need time to accept what happened here. Malleval used t
o be his friend, after all.’ Baldassare pointed to Karloff. ‘The physician is alone now. We will have to take him back to Marzac with us tonight.’

  Karloff sat, immobile, on the front steps of the castle. He looked stunned, exhausted, lost in a trance.

  ‘Have you been at Arginy since this morning?’ Marie-Ange asked her father.

  Baldassare nodded. He explained he rode to Arginy with Marco, the only remaining Turcopilar, after fleeing Beauregard. They persuaded the Rosemonts’ household staff to hide in the attic and laid in waiting for Uxeloup and his thugs.

  ‘We dealt with them,’ he said. ‘Then went after you.’

  ‘How did you manage to wake up Capitaine Saintclair? He was unconscious when we got here. I think Karloff drugged him.’

  Baldassare smiled and pointed to a small leather pouch hanging from his belt.

  ‘I gave him some of my very special snuff. It can raise a dead camel.’

  ‘It stinks like one, too,’ Hugo called out, a brief smile on his lips, as he came back. His face became serious again and he shook his head. ‘There’s no sign of them. They must be dead, swallowed by the ground.’

  It was pitch black when they finally set off for Marzac. Hugo drove the carriage with Marie-Ange and Karloff inside. Baldassare and Marco rode in front. During the short journey, Karloff muttered to himself in the same language Marie-Ange heard him use once before, in front of Polycarpe de la Rivière’s house at Malleval.

  When they reached Marzac, Karloff leant forward and took hold of her hand. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like that, you know. I was going to meet one of the celestial beings at last…Talk to him in his language.’

  ‘The language you were using just now?’

  ‘That’s right. Over the centuries the Société Angélique devised a special language to communicate with angels.’ He bent his head. ‘I don’t understand. Uxeloup disappeared into the bowels of the earth, towards oblivion. And I did not see my angel. I need to examine Polycarpe’s documents again. Maybe I missed something.’

  Marie-Ange had no comforting words for him. She shivered as she relived Uxeloup’s last moments. She could still hear his cry of terror as he was plunged into the dark hole, holding onto the Templar’s tomb and the Cross of Life. She hoped he died quickly.

  ‘Here we are.’ Hugo opened the door and helped Marie-Ange out. He held her close to him a few seconds and she sighed with contentment as his arms closed around her.

  ‘Are you coming in?’ she asked, tilting her chin up to look at him.

  ‘Somehow, I don’t think I would be welcome tonight.’ He gestured towards the castle. ‘Now I’ve served my purpose.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I know what your great-aunt thinks of me. She only tolerated my presence last night because she wanted me to help you.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  He smiled. ‘You know it is. Anyway, I must go back to Lyon and alert Colonel Dery about Nort…about Nallay,’ he corrected. ‘We can’t leave him on the loose with the King’s visit looming. And there’s the matter of my debt to see to. As far as I know, I am still wanted by the gendarmes and the bailiffs. I must tell them Uxeloup is dead, it’ll give me time to sort things out.’

  ‘Sophie told me she drugged your wine during the card game,’ Marie-Ange said.

  He took a deep breath. ‘That explains a lot…although drugged or not, I should have known when to stop that game. Well, I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘Can you not wait until…’

  He interrupted her protest by a kiss. His lips caressed hers lightly. She felt the rough stubble on his cheeks against her skin, and remembered with a shiver of delight their embrace, interrupted far too abruptly by the gendarmes the previous night. Her hands clung to his shoulders.

  ‘You’re safe, now.’ He pulled away.

  ‘Capitaine,’ Baldassare called. ‘I will never thank you enough for your help. We may not agree on everything but it was an honour to meet you.’

  The two men shook hands. Baldarasse untied Hugo’s black horse from the back of the carriage and handed him the reins. After a last look at Marie-Ange, Saintclair climbed onto his horse and set off into the night on the road to Lyon. He was right, of course. Nallay was still out there, lying in wait for the right moment to kill the King. He had to be stopped.

  Baldassare took her arm. ‘Let’s go in, daughter.’

  Hermine was waiting for them in the drawing room. She hugged Marie-Ange and turned to Baldassare, her eyes shining with curiosity. It was true he looked unusual, wrapped in a dark grey cloak, his short, black hair streaked with grey and his clear blue eyes contrasting vividly with his suntanned skin. After a moment of hesitation, she held out her hand to him.

  ‘I am delighted to meet you. Marie-Ange told me everything. I hope that you two will have time to talk.’

  Baldassare sighed. ‘Sadly, I must leave in the morning. I must report the outcome of my mission to my superiors in Catania.’

  ‘So soon…’ Marie-Ange cried. ‘There are so many things I want to ask you, about yourself, your family, and my mother.’ Her voice quivered and she bent her head, overwhelmed at the thought of losing the father she had only just found.

  ‘I am not free of my duties, daughter,’ he said gently. ‘However, I will try and tell you as much as I can about my family—our family—tonight.’

  ‘What you all need for now is a rest and a warm meal,’ Hermine decreed. ‘I will have rooms prepared straight away.’

  She turned to Marie-Ange. ‘Where is Capitaine Saintclair? I heard the commotion last night. Oh…the shame of it, having bailiffs knocking at my door to take him to debtors’ jail.’ She tapped her cane on the floor. ‘Although I don’t know why I was surprised. I shouldn’t have expected any less from that man.’ She sniggered.

  ‘Capitaine Saintclair did nothing wrong, Aunt Hermine.’ Marie-Ange’s cheeks burnt with anger. ‘He was tricked by Malleval during a game of cards.’

  Hermine gave a short, derisive laugh and crossed her arms on her chest.

  ‘A game of cards, of course…I am disappointed in you, girl. You seem to harbour certain feelings for the capitaine. You should remember that not only are you still married, but you are also the last of the Beauregards. You owe it to yourself and your family not to be compromised by a man such as Saintclair. He is a commoner, a vulgar soldier.’

  So Hugo had been right. Hermine had been cordial to him last night only because she wanted his help. Now he had served his purpose, she could cast him aside. No wonder he was bitter about the arrogance of aristocrats.

  ‘Dear Madame,’ her father started, ‘since when has a man’s worth got anything to do with his lineage? You know as well as I do that a man needs to prove himself before he can earn respect, whatever his status in society. Saintclair has a distinguished military record. He came to Marie-Ange’s rescue several times, causing himself great danger in the process. That is a good enough indication of his valour to me, and it should be the same for you.’

  He turned to Marie-Ange with a smile. ‘My daughter thinks very highly of him, and I trust her judgement. Now, shall we go upstairs and have a rest before the feast your great-aunt promised us?’ He linked arms with her and they left the drawing room under Hermine’s chastened gaze.

  ‘Thank you,’ Marie-Ange said as they climbed up the imposing staircase behind Pierre.

  ‘Saintclair is a solid, honest man. I like him.’ Baldassare smiled. ‘And more to the point, you like him. You are a grown woman and free to make your own choices.’

  After bathing and changing into one of her aunt’s gowns, Marie-Ange made her way to the dining room where Hermine did the honours over a sumptuous meal. Karloff had declined to join them and remained prostrate, closeted in his room. He didn’t even seem to care that the gendarmes would call for him in the morning to take him into custody.

  At the dinner table, nobody spoke about Arginy and the abyss that had engulfed Malleval and the Cross of Life. And eve
n though her mind often wandered to Saintclair, Marie-Ange was happy to listen to her father telling her about Malta and the dei Conti family.

  ‘My father was a formidable man. He commanded the largest merchant fleet in Malta. My elder brother, Alessandro, is at the head of the business now,’ Baldassare explained. ‘As for my mother, she was a ray of sunshine, always singing and happy. You would have loved her, and she would have doted on you.’

  ‘Do you only have one brother then?’

  Baldassare smiled. ‘No, there is, Agata, my sister. She had one daughter of her own.’ He promised to take her to the island to meet them some day.

  She enquired how he had become a Turcopilar.

  ‘It was a great honour to be chosen, an honour my parents could not decline. I was eleven years old when the Bailiff of the Knights Hospitaller requested my presence at the Commanderie in Valetta. I was educated there, and then pursued my schooling in Italy and in North Africa, but I’m not at liberty to speak about it. Much of what we do is secret,’ he apologised. ‘I think Capitaine Saintclair explained, didn’t he? We Turcopilars aren’t even supposed to exist anymore, so you are going to have to keep my presence here a secret’

  Marie-Ange didn’t dare broach the subject of the short-lived romance between Baldassare and her mother. It was Hermine, with her usual bluntness, who asked him about it.

  ‘What happened between Catherine and you? Well, I mean, apart from the obvious. How did you help her escape to England?’

  He took time to drink a sip of wine before answering.

  ‘Catherine was a beautiful young woman. She had such spirit! She was brave and resilient even after her father’s execution, her abduction by Edmond Malleval, and her captivity in his fortress, where she was at the mercy of that snake, Uxeloup. She told me he constantly preyed on her.’

  He talked about the months they were on the road, riding, walking alongside a troop of comedians before reaching the north coast of France. ‘During our journey, we forgot we would have to part. I certainly forgot I wasn’t a free man, but I have no regrets.’

  Once again, Marie-Ange saw the sadness in his eyes. He turned to her and smiled. ‘She would be so proud of you,’ he said.