Page 43 of Blood Game

Diana shrugged. “There was one story that Isabel Raveneau defied her father in his choice of the man she was to marry.”

“An arranged marriage.”

“Just so,” Diana nodded. “And you see the first young knight riding away? An adopted son of Montfort. It is said that he was her lover.”

“What about these other images? Isabel Raveneau in knight's armor?”

“There are those who believe that she was showing her defiance at her father's choice of a husband, and what she would have done if she was free to do so. Not unlike Joan d' Arc, who believed that God had sent her to defend the people and put the rightful king on the throne of France.”

And was then burned at the stake, because of those who feared her, or feared what she believed. Kris had studied it in her theology classes.

“What are these letters?” She could barely make them out for the poor lighting available when that photograph was taken. “Fili?”

“There are several Latin words stitched into the tapestry,” Diana explained. “It was a way of documenting important events. You must remember that the tapestry dates back to the 14th century. “

“It means son.” James translated the text.

“Yes,” Diana replied. “However the exact meaning is not known, since John of Montfort had no true sons. Only two daughters.”

But he had an adopted son, Kris thought. If the stories were true.

“Messages, puzzles, secrets,” Kris commented.

Diana nodded. “Just as they say there is another painting behind the Mona Lisa, perhaps a hidden message, or another portrait.”

“Is there any other information about the family?” Kris asked. “Descendants, records, anything that might explain something about the tapestry?”

“Several years ago, during restoration at the Abbey at Mont St. Michel, a series of articles was written about the history of the abbey.

“There was a woman who claimed to be a descendant of Isabel Raveneau. She had no proof of this, but it made an interesting story.” Diana smiled.

“She was an actress of some minor talent in the late 1930's with a very vivid imagination. I have the article.” She scanned through another computer file.

“Her name was Vilette Moreau. There was quite a bit of publicity about the tapestry then, and speculation about what might have happened to it. That was over ten years ago. She would be very old now.”

“May I have a copy of the photographs and that article?”

It was late when they left Diana Jodion's office, an icy rain pelting down as they crossed the car park.

She had a half-dozen color print-outs of the tapestry that Diana had made for them, along with a print-out of the magazine article about the restoration at the abbey ten years earlier.

Photographs, an old magazine article, an eccentric woman who claimed to be a descendant of Isabel Raveneau. Stories,secrets, messages stitched into a seven-hundred-year-old tapestry. And it told her nothing about the reason Cate had been there.

It was after nine in the evening. A production at the campus theatre had ended. Patrons, students from evening classes, professors at the end of a long day, streamed across campus to nearby apartments or autos.

The parking area emptied, cars exiting to different parts of the city, returning home, or in the direction of the nearest tavern. All except one.

The late model Audi that sat idling, a cloud of exhaust in the cold night air, amber parking lights glowing through the misty rain.

It was a feeling that never went away, as James watched the Audi in the rearview mirror.

It might be nothing, he thought. Someone making a cell call before leaving.

“What is it?” Kris asked.

Headlights came on, and the Audi backed out of the parking space, then crossed the parking area in the opposite direction. He shook his head.

“Nothing.”