“Yes, yes. I would not expect you to answer otherwise,” he said dismissively, waving his hand. “But did he ask you what had happened this morning at the river?”

“You commanded me to speak of it to no one,” she said. “Naturally, I obeyed you.”

“As I trusted you to keep your word,” he said. “But, still, you have not quite answered my question. Did Guilhem ask where you’d been?”

“There has not been the opportunity,” she said defiantly. “As I told you, I have not seen him.”

Pelletier walked over to the window. “Are you scared that war will come?” he said, his back to her.

Alais was disconcerted by the abrupt change of subject, but replied without skipping a beat.

“At the thought of it, yes, Messire,” she replied cautiously. “But surely it won’t come to that?”

“No, it might not.”

He placed his hands on the window ledge, seemingly lost in his own thoughts and oblivious to her presence. “I know you think my question impertinent, but I asked it for a reason. Look deep into your heart. Weigh your answer carefully. Then, tell me the truth. Do you trust your husband? Do you trust him to protect you, to do right by you?”

Alais understood the words that mattered lay unsaid and hidden somewhere beneath the surface, but she feared to answer. She did not want to be disloyal to Guilhem. At the same time, she could not bring herself to lie to her father.

“I know he does not please you, Messire,” she said steadily, “although I do not know what he has done to offend you-”

“You know perfectly well what he does to offend me,” Pelletier said impatiently. “I’ve told you often enough. However, my personal opinion of du Mas, for good or ill, is neither here nor there. One can dislike a man and yet see his worth. Please, Alais. Answer my question. A very great deal depends on it.”

Images of Guilhem sleeping. Of his eyes, dark as lodestone, the curve of his lips as he kissed the intimate inside of her wrist. Memories so powerful they made her dizzy.

“I cannot answer,” she said eventually.

“Ah,” he sighed. “Good. Good. I see.”

“With respect, Paire, you see nothing,” Alais flared up. “I have said nothing.”

He turned round. “Did you tell Guilhem I had sent for you?”

“As I said, I have not seen him and… and it is not right that you should question me in this manner. To make me choose between loyalty to you and to him.” Alais moved to rise. “So unless there is some reason you require my presence, Messire, at this late hour, I beg you give me leave to withdraw.”

Pelletier made to calm the situation. “Sit down, sit down. I see I have offended you. Forgive me. It was not my intention.”

He held out his hand. After a moment, Alais took it.

“I do not mean to speak in riddles. My hesitation is… I need to make things clear in my own mind. Tonight I received a message of great significance, Alai’s. I have spent the past few hours trying to decide what to do, weighing the alternatives. Even though I thought I had resolved on one course of action and sent for you, nonetheless doubts remained.”

Alai’s met his gaze. “And now?”

“Now my path lies clear before me. Yes. I believe I know what I must do.”

The color drained from her face. “So war is coming,” she said, her voice suddenly soft.

“I think it inevitable, yes. The signs are not good.” He sat down. “We are caught up in events far bigger than we have the power to control, for all our attempts to persuade ourselves otherwise.” He hesitated. “But there is something more important than this, Alai’s. And if things go ill for us in Montpelhier, then it is possible I might never have an opportunity to… to tell you the truth.”

“What can be more important than the threat of war?”

“Before I speak further, you must give me your word that everything I tell you tonight will remain between us.”

“Is this why you asked about Guilhem?”

“In part, yes,” he admitted, “although that was not the whole reason. But, first, give me your assurance that nothing I tell you will go outside of these four walls.”

“You have my word,” she said, without hesitation.

Again, Pelletier sighed, but this time she heard relief not anxiety in his voice. The die was cast. He had made his choice. What remained was determination to see things through whatever the consequences.

She drew closer. The light from the candles danced and flickered in her brown eyes.

“This is a story,” he said, “that begins in the ancient lands of Egypt several thousand years ago. This is the true story of the Grail.”

Pelletier talked until the oil in the lamps had burned out.

The courtyard below had fallen silent, as the revelers had taken themselves off to sleep. Alai’s was exhausted. Her fingers were white and there were purple shadows, like bruises, beneath her eyes.

Pelletier too had grown old and tired as he talked.

“In answer to your question, you do not have to do anything. Not yet, perhaps not ever. If our petitions tomorrow are successful, it will give me the time and opportunity I need to take the books to safety myself as I am bound to do.”

“But if they are not, Messire? What if something happens to you?”

Alais broke off, fear catching in her throat.

“All may yet be well,” he said, but his voice was dead.

“But if it is not?” she insisted, refusing to be soothed. “What if you do not return? How will I know when to act?”

He held her gaze for a moment. Then he searched in his pouch until he’d found a small package of cream-colored cloth.

“If something happens to me, you will receive a token like this.”

He laid the package on the table and pushed it toward her.

“Open it.”

Alais did as she was told, unfolding the material section by section until she had revealed a small disc of pale stone with two letters carved on it. She held it up to the light and read the letters aloud.

“NS?

“For Noublesso de los Seres.”

“What is it?”

“A mere,. a secret token, which is passed between thumb and forefinger. It has another, more important purpose also, although you need not know of it. It will indicate to you if the bearer is to be trusted.” Alais nodded. “Now turn it over.”

Engraved on the other side was a labyrinth, identical to the pattern carved on the back of the wooden board.

Alais caught her breath. “I’ve seen this before.”

Pelletier twisted the ring from his thumb and held it out. “It is engraved on the inside,” he said. “All guardians wear such a ring.”

“No, here, in the chateau. I bought cheese in the market today and took a board from my room to carry it on. This pattern is engraved on the underside.”

“But that’s impossible. It cannot be the same.” I swear it is.

“Where did the board come from?” he demanded. “Think, Alais. Did someone give it to you? Was it a gift?”

Alais shook her head. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she said desperately. “All day I’ve tried to remember, but I can’t. The strangest thing was that I was sure I’d seen the pattern somewhere else, even though the board itself was not familiar to me.”

“Where is it now?”

“I left it on the table in my chambers,” she said. “Why? Do you think it matters?”

“So anyone could have seen it,” he said with frustration.

“I suppose so,” she replied nervously. “Guilhem, any of the servants, I cannot say.”

Alai’s looked down at the ring in her hand and suddenly the pieces fell into place. “You thought the man in the river was Simeon?” she said slowly. “He is another guardian?”

Pelletier nodded. “There was no reason to think it was him, but yet I felt so sure.”

“And the other guardians? Do you know where they are?”

He leaned over and closed her fingers over the merel. “No more questions, Alai’s. Take good care of this. Keep it safe. And hide the board with the labyrinth where no prying eyes can see it. I will deal with it when I return.”