Page 42 of Under a Spanish Sky

He gave a sigh of frustration. ‘I’ve been wondering that. It wouldn’t surprise me if the men who sent me on this mission had arranged to have me shadowed, in case I might need help. But surely they would have told me. What’s the use of a bodyguard if you don’t know who he is?’

Aimée shook her head. ‘Think back to the abbot of Santa Cristina, Luc. You remember what he said about links on a chain, don’t you? If you’re unaware of the identity of your guardian angel, the archbishop and his men would be unable to make you reveal anything about him.’

Luc reflected on her words. ‘You’re right. And if I failed, he would still be able to step in to help complete the mission.’ He gazed down at her tenderly. ‘You’re a clever woman, Aimée.’

She gripped him more tightly. ‘Of course, you said a professional soldier or a professional killer. What if he’s a killer working for the archbishop? Maybe he deliberately sacrificed this unimportant pawn so that you would believe him to be on your side. Then, when your guard’s down, he’ll pounce.’

Luc turned this other hypothesis over in his mind.

It was a sobering thought. He was still reflecting on it some time later when a municipal official arrived to retrieve the body of the stonemason.

The driver offered them a lift into town and they were happy to accept.

He dropped them off in front of the cathedral and, as promised, Jeanne, the baker’s daughter, was waiting for them.

She ran over and took Aimée by the arm, leading them along a narrow street to the hostel.

It was a simple inn, small and crowded, but Luc preferred it that way.

If the archbishop’s men were already in the town, he and Aimée would be less conspicuous here than in the big pilgrims’ hospice.

‘Luc, Aimée, you’re here at last.’ Friar Laurent was sitting at a long table, a plate of sausage and ham in front of him.

He waved them onto the bench beside him.

‘Sorry it took so long. There was no problem with the authorities. Everybody here would appear to sleep from lunchtime till late afternoon. Anyway, they’ve accepted the witness statements.

Thomas is in the clear.’ He leant closer to Luc. ‘And your name wasn’t even mentioned.’

Luc gave a satisfied nod. So the stonemason incident had not caused a stir.

He glanced around, checking the faces in the room, recognising a few, but not many.

He searched for Thomas, but there was no sign of him so he allowed himself to relax.

Catching sight of the innkeeper, he ordered a jug of wine and some food.

The wine arrived almost immediately. Luc refilled the friar’s mug, then took one for himself and one for Aimée. He pressed it into her hand.

‘Here, have some wine and then we should get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m really tired tonight.’

‘It isn’t everyday somebody tries to kill you. That might have something to do with it.’ Her tone was dry, but he could hear that she was still disturbed by the events of the day.

‘The important thing is that he didn’t succeed.’

The innkeeper returned with a steaming bowl of thick vegetable soup with dumplings. Sight of food reminded Luc he was hungry.

The innkeeper straightened up and looked across at the friar. ‘Are you Friar Laurent, by any chance?’

The monk looked up. ‘Yes. What is it?’

‘Message for you. The bishop wants to see you. You’re to go to the Bishop’s Palace as soon as possible.’

‘The bishop wants to see me?’ Laurent was amazed. ‘But how does he know I’m here?’

‘No idea. The messenger was here five, ten minutes ago, but he left.’ The innkeeper shrugged and returned to the kitchen.

Luc’s appetite suddenly left him. That same sensation that all was not well was back with him again.

He watched as the friar jumped to his feet, agitated at this summons to such an august personage.

Before he could set off, Luc caught his arm, lowering his voice to little more than a whisper.

‘Laurent, do you want me to come with you?’ He really didn’t want to leave Aimée, but this summons could mean danger for the friar.

‘No, of course not.’ The friar smiled down at him. ‘Maybe my abbot wrote to him about our pilgrimage. He did tell me he knew people along the way.’

‘Well, if you’re absolutely sure…’

‘It’s fine, really, Luc, thanks for the offer. Anyway, it’s not far. The palace is right beside the cathedral.’ He turned and disappeared out of the exit.

‘What do you think that’s all about?’ Aimée was as puzzled as Luc.

‘I don’t know.’ Luc looked around, subjecting all the other people in the room to close scrutiny.

He saw nothing untoward, but his instincts were still screaming caution.

He took his time, waiting to see if his feelings changed before making a decision.

At last he made his decision. He rested his mouth against her ear and whispered.

‘Listen, Aimée, do you think you’ll be all right if I leave you here with Beatrice and Jeanne?

I’m worried for Laurent. How did the bishop know about him?

How did he know he was here, in this little inn, and why today?

How do we know the messenger was even sent by the bishop anyway? ’

She nodded, feeling his lips rub against her ear as she did so. In spite of the circumstances, she felt a thrill at his touch. ‘I’ll be fine here, don’t worry. What’re you going to do?’

‘I owe, we owe, Laurent a lot. He’s gone out on a limb for us and he deserves all the help I can give. I’ll head for the Bishop’s Palace and check on him.’

‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’

‘I promise. Oh, good, here’s Beatrice. I’ll be back before long.’

Aimée listened to the sound of his feet and then the squeak of the hinges on the heavy door as he left the inn.

All afternoon, since the death of the stonemason, she had been thinking about Luc and the importance he had now assumed in her life.

Of course, on the one hand there was the practical consideration that he was her eyes and, without him, she would be in dire straits, but there was so much more to it than that.

The moment she had heard the words ‘He’s dead’ and had feared the worst, the realisation had descended upon her that she was deeply and irrevocably in love with him, and of that there was now no doubt at all.

She had already lost one man she had loved dearly.

To lose two was unthinkable. If Luc were to die, she knew she would follow him.

She pressed her hands together under the table and prayed silently to herself for his safe return with the friar.

Outside, the narrow streets were dark. Night had fallen and the moon had not yet risen.

Luc stood in the shelter of a woodpile and waited until his eyes adjusted.

Apart from the hum of conversation from the inn behind him, all was quiet.

Gradually, he began to distinguish things in the gloom.

He could see the street leading back to the cathedral, down which they had come, with two other streets running off it.

Ever cautious, he avoided the direct route and made his way there along narrow side alleys.

It was not a big town, and he soon found himself back at the cathedral.

There were no lights around this side of the building, and he was able to cross to the deeper shadow of the cathedral wall without fear of being seen.

Hugging the stone, still warm from the residual heat of the sun, he headed for the front.

Arriving at the corner, he peered cautiously round.

Apart from a lantern over the main portal of the cathedral, and another by the Bishop’s Palace, there were no signs of life.

He calculated that the friar, by coming straight up the road, would have arrived five or even ten minutes earlier, so he settled down to wait for him to come out.

Within a very short space of time, he heard marching feet.

He shrank back into the shadows and looked on as four soldiers appeared, one of them carrying a lantern.

Although they bore swords, they were not wearing chain mail and their weapons were sheathed.

It looked clear that this was the local militia, patrolling the streets.

After a brief pause in front of the cathedral, they set off down a side street to continue their rounds and Luc breathed a sigh of relief.

No sooner had the sound of their feet receded, than he heard a loud creak.

The Bishop’s Palace door was pulled open and a cowled figure emerged.

The man closed the door behind him and locked it.

Luc clearly heard the jingle of keys. Cupping the lantern against his hand, the man blew out the flame, plunging the building into darkness.

Luc heard his footsteps recede along the main street, until all was silent once again.

Luc’s mind was racing. The Bishop’s Palace was dark and, presumably, empty.

Where was Friar Laurent and where was the bishop?

And, he wondered with a shiver, where was the Archbishop of Sens?

If Laurent wasn’t here, where was he? Was all this an elaborate ploy to get him away from the inn, and both of them away from Aimée?

He didn’t hesitate. Casting a wary look round, he emerged from his shelter and ran across the square into the street leading directly to the inn.

Apart from an occasional flickering candle in a window, it was pitch dark down there.

He hoped he wouldn’t trip over anything as he hurried through the shadows back to the inn.

The road curved slightly to the left and he saw a lantern up ahead, with shadows moving around it.

He slowed up and felt his way hesitantly along the wall, until he could see and hear men talking.

‘How long do you think he’s been dead?’

‘Not long. He’s still warm.’