Then, beginning with the oldest member of the order, Abbess Annora took the cup to the sisters and gave them to drink, lingering before each one, speaking softly, offering words of comfort and hope. Cait, standing next to Alethea, watched as the Holy Vessel made its slow way around the circle and wondered if she, along with her sister, would be included in the sacred rite.

As the cup came nearer, she heard Alethea praying to herself, and so bent her head as well. But what to say? Her thoughts and feelings were in such a ferment of confusion she did not know how to pray. To honour the abbess, she must go against her call by the White Priest; yet, to obey the White Priest, she must betray the abbess. In the end, she fell back on her first, and most heartfelt desire. Lord of Hosts, and Ruler of Destinies, she prayed, a great injustice has taken place; the blood of my father, your servant, cries out to be avenged. You, whose judgement against the wicked is everlasting, make me the instrument of your vengeance. Lord, hear my prayer.

Voices sounded in the passageway. There was a shout. She looked up and saw men with torches swarming into the sanctuary. In the wildly flickering light, she caught a glimpse of a red cross on a white cloak and knew the Templars had come to take their prize.

The rock-cut sanctuary was suddenly filled with Templar knights. Swords drawn, they rushed for the altar. The circle of nuns collapsed into a tightly huddled knot around the abbess and the Holy Cup. Within moments they were surrounded by the white-cloaked knights. Some of the frightened sisters cried out in terror, others fell to their knees, hands clasped in desperate prayer, as the naked blades encircled them.

From the centre of the close-crowded mass, Cait observed the nearest knights. Faces tight in the lurid light, they stared with oddly hesitant severity at the quaking nuns. Young men for the most part, they were not yet jaded by the constant warring of their order, and unused to attacking women-much less nuns. They glanced guiltily at one another, growing more uncertain of their duty with every passing moment. Someone called a calming order from across the sanctuary; Cait looked out and saw Sergeant Gislebert approach, a torchbearer on either side.

As he drew near, the abbess pressed the Holy Cup into Cait's hands, saying, 'I will speak to him.'

Taking the chalice, she felt a mild burning sensation in the marks of her stigmata, as if the sympathetic wounds in her hands and feet and side were aroused by the nearness of the Holy Vessel. The abbess turned and pushed through the protective cluster of distraught sisters to address the sergeant. 'What is this?' she demanded angrily. Before he could reply, she said, "You invade sanctified ground like brigands and violate the custom of our order to interrupt a sacred and holy sacrament by force of arms.' She stepped before him, pushing the point of his sword aside with a bare hand. 'By what authority do you perpetrate this sacrilege?'

Abbess Annora stood defiant before him, holding her frail body erect, her whole being ablaze with holy anger. The sergeant was taken aback by the force of her outrage. He looked around as if seeking the aid of his absent superior.

'I demand an answer!' said the abbess, her voice sharp as a slap. Some of the Templars shifted uneasily in their places.

'By the authority of the Master of Jerusalem,' replied Gislebert unhappily, 'and under his command, we have come for the Sacred Cup.'

'I agreed with your commander that we would bring it in the morning,' said the abbess. 'We are not finished with our observance.'

'He wants it now,' muttered the sergeant dully. 'Where is it?'

'The Blessed Cup is in my keeping until I place it in the hands of the archbishop,' Annora said. 'And I say when that will be. Until then, you shall not touch it.'

Gislebert, out of his depth with this spirited woman, seemed at a loss to know how to proceed in this confrontation. He looked across at the trembling nuns and came to a decision at last. 'You can take up the matter with the Master.' Turning away, he called a command to his knights. 'Bring them,' he shouted. 'Bring them all!'

The entire order, with the abbess at its head, was driven out into the frigid night and made to toil down the steep mountain pathways by the fitful light of the Templar torches. The knights, embarrassed to be riding while the nuns were made to walk, offered their mounts to the oldest captives, and the rest dismounted at intervals and took up places along the way in the more perilous steeps where, due to ice, or loose rock, the path had become unsound. Thus, they lit the way for the order as, silent but full of reproachful glances, the Grey Marys made their slow way down to the village.

Night was far gone when they reached the valley. Sergeant Gislebert marched his straggling charges through the silent village to the church. By the light of low-burning candles on the altar, Cait could see that the people were still there-most of them asleep in heaps on the floor. Grand Commander de Bracineaux dozed in his chair, and Archbishop Bertrano was stretched out on the low platform beneath the altar. Baron D'Anjou came awake as the door opened; he stood and nudged the Templar commander, saying, 'Wake up, de Bracineaux. The sergeant has returned with your lady friend.'

'At last,' said the commander, sitting up as the nuns entered, limping and staggering from their enforced ordeal in the dead of night. He took one look at the line of exhausted women, and cried, 'What have you done, Gislebert? I send you for the relic and you bring the entire convent.'

'Just so,' mused d'Anjou, a perverse smile playing on his lips. 'This affair ripens most deliciously.'

The entrance of the sisters wakened the sleeping archbishop and townsfolk. They roused themselves and stood. Some of the villagers, seeing the distress of the sisters, all of whom they knew and loved, ran to their aid; they sat the women down, wrapped them in cloaks and mantles and chafed their hands to warm them. Cait and Alethea found places at the back of the assembly near the door. Where are they? Cait wondered, quickly surveying the dim interior for any sign of her knights. What has happened to them?

Despite her fatigue, the abbess strode to where de Bracineaux sat, and said, 'We agreed that I would deliver the cup tomorrow in my own good time. Why have you violated our agreement?'

The archbishop, alarmed by this unexpected development, rushed to intercede. 'What has happened? Dear sister abbess, come, sit you down.' To de Bracineaux, he said, 'What is this, commander? What have you done to these poor women?'

'He ordered his soldiers to storm the convent,' the abbess declared loudly, 'and bear the Blessed Cup away by force.'

'Is this true?' demanded the archbishop, aghast at the accusation.

'Be quiet,' snapped de Bracineaux irritably.

Undeterred, the abbess said, 'You would take by force that which was to be freely given? What manner of man are you, Commander de Bfacineaux?'

'An impatient man.' He glared at the abbess. 'I might have granted you the condition we agreed upon if you had not dealt falsely with me.'

'Preposterous!' said the abbess.

'Oh?' sneered the commander. 'Do you deny that you shelter a known enemy beneath the cloak of your order?' He thrust an accusing finger at Cait. 'That one-bring her here.'

As a nearby Templar worked his way towards them, Cait removed the cup from inside her robe, where she had carried it lest she stumble and drop it while on the trail. 'Keep this out of sight,' she whispered, passing the Sacred Vessel to Alethea. She stepped out from among the sisters at the rear of the church and took her place beside the abbess. 'So, you thought I would not recognize you a second time,' de Bracineaux said. 'Most unwise, lady. Most unwise.'