Page 89 of Blood Game

There was a poignancy to the article and those black-and-white photographs, without the usual opinion and sensationalism found in modern journalism pieces. It provided a glimpse into a young man's view of that horrible time. It also explained who Catherine Bennett Ross was, the person behind the story, what drove her to take on dangerous assignments—the Six-Day war, Vietnam, the Falklands, Beirut, Iraq. That straight-forward perspective, but with a deeply human insight into world events. Like father, like daughter.

“I keep my boots by the door,” Cate once said of the next assignment. “And my head down.”

She had received her share of wounds on those dangerous assignments, a grazed head wound from a stray bullet, a broken ankle that she walked on for three days because she had just oneopportunity to get the story, along with other assorted bruises and close encounters, and one brief marriage.

“He was nice enough,” she said once. “But he had some strange idea about me staying home and raising a half-dozen kids. I thought about that for about three minutes, then packed my bags and left. Although,” she added, “he was pretty good in bed.”

And according to rumors, there had been more than one affair over the years. A few moments grabbed in some war zone, several days at some remote location, then off on the next assignment.

Kris thought of Marcus Aronson. He had been in and out of Cate's life over the years, both correspondents after they first met on assignment covering the Six-Day War for the BBC. He had left journalism after the war, then a professor of European history at the University of Paris. He had been a consultant on two of Cate's books.

Kris had spoken with him several times during the editorial process on both books, fact-checking, verifying information Cate had included. They met at the London book launch for Cate's first book. The last she knew he still lived in the Montparnasse.

“You need to see something,” Innis told her. “Luna found this.”

“More digging around?” Kris commented.

“You might say that. It took quite a bit of searching, considering the source. The Vatican isn't well-known for sharing. But she wanted to take a look around.”

“The Vatican?” She knew from her studies years earlier that the Vatican had vast archives that went back centuries—kept under lock and seal. Not just anyone got into the Vatican archives—scholars from time to time, theologians, seminaries, but even that was restricted.

“You hacked into the Vatican archives?”

“Luna hacked into the archives,” he clarified. “She's doesn't care much for the Church.” He shrugged and gave her a smile.

“She's a bit of a heathen.”

“A very talented heathen,” Kris commented as she sat in the chair beside him and watched as he scrolled through files.

“Aye, she loved the challenge. The Vatican has an impressive security system. It took some time, but we got in.” He opened another file and brought up several black-and-white images. He enlarged them one by one.

It took her a minute before she realized what she was looking at—a black-and-white photographic archive of the Raveneau Tapestry.

“These photographs were taken at the abbey in 1912.”

Kris stared at frame after frame, scene after scene. The photographs weren't the best quality, but it was possible to see most of the detail in the scenes. There were almost two dozen photographs, many the same as the ones in the copies of the color photographs Diana Jodion had provided, and several that she didn't have.

The tapestry, like others that had been created during the Medieval period, was like a pictograph made of linen and dyed yarn, a montage of people and events, scene after scene painstakingly hand-stitched over decades, each panel a story in itself, like the Bayeaux Tapestry. But this story was deeply personal.

He magnified the images that showed the events of a young woman's life: hunt scenes, other scenes with a young man, then a panel that showed a knight and several warriors riding into battle.

“According to what we were told, he was sent to Spain,” she pointed out, barely able to control her excitement.

The next panel showed the battle.

According to Vilette, James and the others had been overrun at Teba, most of the Crusaders slaughtered, with a handful taken prisoner, James of Montrose among them.

The next scene showed a messenger arriving at the chateau, and the young woman was then seen astride a horse wearing the armor of a warrior. In the next scene, they had arrived at a fortress on a coastal shore.

“Here.” She pointed out the next scene as the messenger in the earlier panel could be seen delivering something to the figure outside the gate of the fortress.

Gold for James of Montrose's ransom?

In the following panel, the small band led by that warrior in knight's armor are seen surrounding a cart as they leave the fortress.

“According to what Vilette Moreau told us, James was badly wounded at Teba.”

From the images of the sun and moon, rising then falling, it appeared they traveled for several days to the western coast of Spain. She pointed to an object in the cart.