Page 15 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘God be with you both.’ The abbot’s hand was raised in blessing and they both crossed themselves.

‘May Our Lord Jesus Christ be with you always.’ He caught Luc’s eye and spoke with feeling.

‘May you succeed, Luc. You carry a heavy burden of responsibility. Carry it well.’ Then he stepped back as Luc manhandled the heavy stone-clad door back into place, leaving him and Aimée alone in the damp, dark tunnel.

Luc took her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

She responded by reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. ‘Just tell me there are no spiders down here.’

He raised the burning torch and sliced a swathe through a curtain of cobwebs before replying with as much sincerity as he could muster.

‘Spiders? No, too cold for them, I expect. None around here.’

She clutched his arm and whispered, ‘Liar.’

‘But make sure you keep your hood up and your head down so you don’t bang your head.

’ A spider the size of a small bird materialised in front of him as he spoke and he banished it with a sweep of the flaming torch.

Conscious that the torch would not burn for long, he crouched down to protect his head and started to creep along the passage, the torch held as high as possible, silently counting his steps so as to have an idea of distance.

The tunnel sloped gently downwards and after almost a hundred steps he noticed water running out of a rounded hole set in the side wall and into a channel down the middle. He looked across at Aimée.

‘Water coming out here. Could it be from the kitchen or the latrines?’

She paused for breath and gently straightened up until she was able to stand fully upright.

He, on the other hand, still had to crouch.

She, too, had been counting. ‘I’ve taken a hundred and twenty fairly hesitant steps, say a foot or so each, so yes, I suppose it could be from the kitchen.

It’s not the latrines. The smell of them’s unmistakable.

If it’s the kitchen, then we’ve passed right underneath the abbey church and are just about at the outer wall of the hospice.

’ She sounded tense but in control, and he was relieved at how well she was coping.

‘All right, then. Let’s keep going. Try to keep your feet out of the channel down the middle of the tunnel where the water’s running.’

They moved off down the passage into the current of air, which got steadily stronger and colder.

Luc’s counting had reached two hundred and fifty when the narrow tunnel suddenly finished and they had to scramble with great difficulty down a slippery, part-frozen waterfall into a natural cave.

Here, at least, it was possible to stand normally and he stretched his back gratefully.

‘What’s this? A cave, a bigger bit of tunnel or a building?

’ Aimée could tell without seeing that the tunnel had finished.

She cast about keenly, using her senses to work out where they might be.

‘The way out is to the left of us. I’m sure of it.

’ She held out a pointing finger and, unhesitatingly, he led her in that direction.

After a few twists and turns the tunnel divided but, again, she knew without question which way to go.

The floor of the cave sloped more steeply and she clung to him with both hands as he picked his way down.

Then a flurry of snow carried by the swirling wind told them both that they had reached the outside.

The abbot had told them that they were supposed to travel the next part of their journey by sledge and Aimée was deeply suspicious.

‘The abbot wants us to use a sledge?’ There was incredulity and horror in her voice. ‘Where’s it supposed to be, this… thing?’ Her tone made quite clear what she thought of the idea.

‘He said it’s in the coal store. Apparently there’s a shed round here somewhere for storing coal.

They bring the coal up here in the summer on a big flat sledge, which is dragged by a team of horses.

The good news is that there is a fairly well-marked track for us to follow, always assuming that we can find the shed and the sledge in the first place.

’ At that moment the torch flickered weakly and expired, leaving them in a featureless world of darkness, broken only by flurries of snow borne down on them by the gusty wind.

He could see nothing, but to her it didn’t matter.

‘Did you say coal?’ She tugged at his sleeve and he bent towards her to hear better above the constant battering of the wind.

‘I think I can smell coal over here. I might be wrong but I’m sure I…

yes, there it is again. There’s definitely coal over this way.

’ With that, she took his hand and led him out of the cave mouth and down through the snow.

In places it was waist deep and the treacherous ice underneath made it almost impossible to move.

He hoped fervently that she had got it right or their mission, not to mention their lives, would stall right here.

‘Can you see the coal shed?’ She was shouting to make herself heard. ‘It’s definitely here somewhere close by.’

As she spoke he imagined more than saw a solid square building to one side of them and pulled her to it.

They slumped against the stone wall, temporarily sheltered from the wind, and rested.

He pulled her head towards him and shouted joyfully in her ear: ‘You’re a wonder.

I’d never have found this place without you. ’

The door was mercifully unlocked and inside there was a strong smell of coal, although little of it appeared to be left after the long winter months, and, along with it, he found the promised sledge.

Now that his eyes were no longer dazzled by the flaming torch he was beginning to see a bit more clearly.

The carpet of snow outside the door was distinctly lighter than the shadows of the coal store so he heaved the heavy wooden sledge out of the doors and was able to take a clearer look at it.

‘What’s it like?’ Her voice was deeply suspicious.

He looked across at her and saw that she was shivering.

There was no time to lose. He turned back to the sledge and worked out that there were wooden posts, for all the world like oars, protruding from the rear.

He lifted the heavy construction onto its side and saw that these would act as brakes and even a primitive form of steering if pressure was applied to them by the people on the sledge.

He was very dubious about their efficiency and the ability of one man to make them work properly, but the die was now cast. Straight in front of them was a faint V shape in the snowy slope, which he assumed to be the track to follow. He took a deep breath.

‘Here, climb on and hang onto this for dear life. I can see what looks like the track dead ahead and I think I’ve worked out how to steer.

’ He helped her into the bottom of the sledge, near the front, wedging her between its raised sides.

He crammed his bag in alongside her, murmured a heartfelt prayer and then pushed off.

The hill sloped quite sharply and the sledge started to run so quickly that he almost missed his footing while scrambling on.

‘Here we go,’ he shouted as he reached for the wooden brakes.

At first he only succeeded in making the sledge weave dangerously, but quite quickly he got the idea and was gratified to feel them slow as the brakes dug in.

The track twisted and turned from side to side as it dropped down the hillside and somehow he managed to keep them on course.

The further down the hillside they travelled, the better the visibility became as the wind dropped and the snowfall moderated.

Still they followed the track as they came down into the first trees.

The snow-covered track was simpler to see and follow through the dark backdrop of trees and his spirits rose.

He shouted encouragement to the little figure huddled at the front, but was unable to hear if she responded.

In fact, as she crouched down low, hanging on for dear life, Aimée was lost in her thoughts.

All her married life she had had eyes for no other man than Bertrand and she had loved him dearly.

She had so badly wanted to bear him children, but fate had decreed otherwise.

She had met many of his fellow Templar knights, but none had appealed to her as much as this big, generous, brave man with her now.

She remembered tales told by Bertrand of their exploits in battle together, of feats of bravery about which he never boasted.

She could remember Luc’s appearance with complete clarity, his broad shoulders, his unruly mop of hair and his deep green eyes that could be warm and friendly with her, but then hard and ruthless in the face of danger.

Now, Bertrand was gone and she found herself tied to Luc as closely – well, she admitted to herself, almost as closely – as she had been tied to Bertrand.

Her life and Luc’s, she now realised, were inextricably bound together.

Only death would part them, or, at least, that was the way she felt.

As the sledge bumped and swayed down the hill, she murmured prayers for the soul of her dead husband, for herself and now also for this wonderful man who had come to save her.

They slipped on down the hill, in and out of the trees, crossing open fields, before plunging back into the dark of the forest again.

Finally, unspectacularly, their ride came to an end as the track, after crossing a frozen stream in a gully, for the first time started to go uphill and they slid to a gentle stop.