The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) (44 page)

The rest of the French broke and ran, tearing up the road with their fleeing hooves. The strange knights took chase at once. Nadira stood in the center of the road, dust settling on her hair like a lacy veil. The breached horse regained his feet, shaking, his reins dragging in the dust, but his rider lay inert. Nadira backed up slowly away from road, trembling. She was deaf to everything but the pounding in her ears. Another step back and she felt a solid blow behind her.

Nadira spun around. She had backed into Montrose. He stood there, staring first at her, then down the road where sounds of clashing steel and cries of pain drifted on the evening breeze. His mouth opened and closed in amazement. She had trouble regaining an order to her thoughts. She shook her head to clear it and reached for him. He drew back, palm out.

“No. Don’t touch me.”

“My lord, please…”

“No, stay away.” He strode over the road to peer down at the fallen French commander. Nadira saw him go down on one knee and reach out a tentative finger to the prone man’s face. He rose and took the charger by the bits. His face was ashen gray when he turned around.

He asked slowly, “Nadira, what did you do to this man?”

“Nothing, I did nothing.” Tears began to fall from her eyes. She shook all over.

“I know what I saw. Those knights saw it too. You blew this animal down and crushed his rider.”

“No…no.” As she denied it, her heart twisted with the lie.

Nadira’s heart fell as Montrose shifted his eyes away from her and ran his hand over the trembling animal’s neck. He was afraid. She had frightened him.

She felt faint. She put her hand behind her, but now there was no support. She didn’t feel herself fall, but only the jolt as the ground hit her. She stared up at the darkening sky. A cloud moved slowly into her field of vision, but she could not move her eyes. It was as if she were bound to the ground. She felt herself breathing, she felt the stones that poked her painfully in the hip and the back, but she could not move. She lay there. Breathing. Staring. A face hove into view like the prow of a ship. It cast a shadow on her in the setting sun.

It was one of the strange knights. His eyes were gray, his beard was gray, and his hair was gray. She stared at him. He looked at her from head to toe, his gray eyes taking in her entire body. She watched him look at her as he pulled the gauntlets off his hands. Then he smiled. Her mind snapped like waking from a deep sleep on a cold morning. She blinked.

Warm hands closed on her and brought her up to her feet again. They steadied her when she wavered. She looked around. All five of the strange knights had returned and stood in a circle around her. One by one they reached out and touched her, one on the shoulder, one her hair, another her arm. The gray knight reached out and touched her cheek with his bare finger.

“Nadira of Barcelona,” He said in a deep grave voice. “The Reader.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but no sound could come out. Her eyes darted through the circle to find Montrose. He was by the side of the road, still holding the Frenchman’s horse, amazed.

The gray knight spoke to her in Castilian with a heavy accent. “The French were carrying something precious besides Nadira of Barcelona. Can you tell me now where it is?”

Montrose stepped forward, “They had a small chest in their wagon. I don’t know what is in it.”

“We do.” The gray knight looked around. “There is no wagon here. How many men started out from Rome?”

“There were fourteen. I killed three.” Montrose answered.

“We killed seven.” The gray knight nodded, then motioned with his chin towards his men. Two knights replied to the unspoken signal by mounting and riding away again to the east where the French had fled. The gray knight took Nadira’s hand.

“I am honored to meet you, Nadira of Barcelona. Please call me Malcolm. Proper introductions will come later. Please call this knight, Lionel,” he motioned to a dark-eyed knight who bowed to her from the waist. “And this one Reginald.” Reginald’s eyes beneath his hauberk were sea green. “Our companions Calvin and Derrick have taken chase for the French baggage. Let us get back to our camp. We have much to discuss.” He pulled her hand like he would lead her away, but Montrose dropped the charger’s reins, stepped between them and pinned her with his arms. “She is mine,” he said.

“She is yours, Lord Montrose,” Malcolm raised both palms. “She is yours,” he repeated as though soothing a madman. Nadira looked up at Montrose, but he kept his eyes on Malcolm.

The corner of Malcolm’s mouth turned up and little lights of amusement danced across his eyes. “I was told you would say exactly that, and that you would resist with violence any attempt I might make to take her. However, I daresay you are hungry yourself, and could use some rest. You’ve had a busy week. Let me offer you our hospitality.”

Malcolm swung his arm out and his great charger moved up into position. He swung up into the saddle. Reginald and Lionel mounted their horses with equal grace. All three sat patiently waiting as Montrose and Nadira stared up at them. “Come then.” Malcolm coaxed, tugging his gauntlets back into place, “Let’s go.”

“Shall we go with them, Nadira?” Montrose asked slowly without looking at her.

“Yes,” she answered.

Montrose released her, retrieved the reins from the Frenchman’s mount and pulled himself stiffly into the saddle. He gathered the reins and cued the beast so he could pull Nadira up behind him, but instead of advancing toward Nadira, it reared with a frightened neigh and backed, its haunches quivering. He regained control, but the animal would not take a single step in Nadira’s direction but continued to back away.

Malcolm called out with amusement as Montrose receded into the distance, “Señor, Lord Montrose. May I have permission to carry your lady upon my horse?”

From far away came the faint answer: “By all means. Be my guest.” Nadira put her hands up willingly to Malcolm, who lifted her up behind him.

The knights’ camp was out of sight of the road, and so well hidden Nadira was surprised when they came upon it suddenly. She was even more surprised to see a man in a brown robe sitting on the ground near the fire pit. As they neared she could barely contain her excitement. Malcolm rode his horse directly up to the pit, but Nadira didn’t wait for the huge animal to stop. She slid off its haunch and ran into Brother William’s arms. He hugged her tightly, and she covered his face with kisses until the deepening hue of his blush became alarming. She pulled back to beam happily at him. Montrose rode up moments later and dismounted as well, coming forward to embrace William, patting his back.

Nadira cried, “Oh William! I am so glad you were able to escape from the tower!” He was the same William, but his tonsure was growing stubbly and his habit was travel-worn. He could not stop grinning at her and squeezing her arms and hands.

“I was so worried, Nadira. I didn’t know where you were going, or what was to become of you. I was terrified you would go to the stake.”

“I almost did.”

“Oh, God.” He crossed himself.

“Yes, but I am here now.” Nadira looked around the fire at the knights.

The men had brought their knapsacks to the fire pit and were doling out bread and cheese and fruit and wine. William led her close to the fire. The wine was warm and leathery-tasting, but there was much joy in the drinking of it. Nadira laughed as the red dribbles rolled down her chin and onto her shift. “Now I know why you men wear beards,” she joked as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand, and then passed the wine skin to Lionel. “But now is the time to tell me who you are and how it is that you arrived on this unmarked road precisely when we were to meet our doom at the hands of the French.”

Malcolm smiled. “This is Brother William’s story, and he should tell it.”

“Well, then, Brother.”

William took her hand in his and rubbed it back and forth. “After the men torched the tower, I ran to the village and had Maria’s people come to get Lord Montrose in the woods. They carried him away. I gave them a few coppers and left immediately for Coix. It took me a long time, and I was weak with hunger when I arrived.

“At Coix I found that Father Bertram had left for Rome. The priest he left in charge of the abbey would not free up any funds nor would he allow me to borrow any of his monks. I could eat and drink all I pleased, but could not carry anything away with me. In desperation one night I made my way to Brother Henry’s cell. He was locked inside, as usual, but there were no monks posted outside his room. I called to him through the door and told him what had happened. He asked me if you had eaten any endpapers, Nadira. I told him you had not.” William paused, his eyes on her face. His jaw dropped. “But I think you did. You did!”

Nadira could not suppress a peal of laughter. “Oh William! Wait until you hear!”

“Tell me now. Please. Don’t make me wait. What happened? Did you…”

“She won’t make you wait, William, but I will.” Montrose sat down heavily beside Nadira with a loaf of bread in one hand and a wineskin in the other. He gave William a dark look before biting his bread.

Nadira spread her hands in defeat. “Please, William. Continue. Henry…” she prompted.

William took a deep breath and started again, “I explained monsieur’s elixir and the copies of the book we were working on. There was a long silence and I thought he had fallen asleep or was having one of his fits. Finally he crawled over to the door and put his mouth to the crack. He told me where to find my lord Malcolm and gave me a password.”

“He told me there was a brotherhood of knights who knew about the book and the secrets within it. They have a copy they keep safe, but like monsieur, did not know about the endpapers and have lost their readers through time and Torquemada’s purge of Talmudic scholars. They have been keeping those secrets for almost two hundred years. He told me to go to them for help. The password would protect me. I sinned, my friend, for I did steal food from the abbey for my journey, and I caused the cooks’ assistant to sin as well.”

“I’m certain the Lord will forgive you, Brother William,” Malcolm said.

“I traveled two weeks, where I got lost several times before actually finding my lord Malcolm. After arriving at his place, it occurred to me that there may have been an easier route…”

“But not the right one. It was necessary, Brother. I hope my hospitality made it up to you.” Malcolm smiled.

William returned the smile. “Absolutely,” he said. “Finer meats and sweetbreads never have I tasted. I was loath to leave his place when the time came. Again, I thank you, my friend.” William patted his stomach, and then continued. “I told Malcolm what had happened to us. He bade me wait two more weeks. While I waited, a party of men assembled in the manor, then finally we embarked on this journey by sea and then overland. I kept asking how we would know where to find you, but they would give me no satisfaction. Even now, today, I cannot tell how we came upon you when we did.”

Nadira sat looking soberly at her hands. “I would like to think that you all loved me so much to go through this turmoil and danger and suffering to retrieve me from my captors. I know my lord Montrose was driven by his heart to come after me. I know my friend William is fond of me. The love of these two men, no matter how deep or sincere, is not enough to assemble such a company of knights and baggage and send them leagues and leagues to far lands to recapture one small servant girl. Can you tell me why?” She looked up hopefully at each of the faces around the fire.

Malcolm stood up without answering her. Calvin and Derrick were returning. They rode right up to the fire and dismounted heavily. Both men were covered head to foot in blood and bits of flesh. Calvin carried a bloody leather satchel marked with a red cross. He stepped over the log they were using as a bench and carefully handed the satchel to Malcolm. Malcolm sat down and untied the flap. He pulled a piece of parchment from the bag and unrolled it across his knees. Malcolm frowned as he looked at the document. “This is what was inside the chest?” he asked the men.

Calvin nodded. “This was all that was inside. There are some dispatches and other letters and documents I found among the baggage, as well as what I take to be Lord Montrose’s possessions.”

Montrose stood up. “Is that true? May I look at them?” Calvin nodded and gestured toward his horse. The two men left the fire and pulled the baggage from the animal’s back and began to lay it all out on the grass.

Nadira watched Malcolm finger the parchment on his lap. “What does it say?” she asked him.

“Oh, I cannot read this,” Malcolm said to her. “That is your task.” He handed the creamy manuscript to her. She took it from him, searching his eyes for a clue to his intent. Finding none, she glanced down, recognizing her own clear handwriting and remembering that miserable day when Marcus died. She saw the squiggle in the letters of the opening lines where her hand had shaken while she wrote.

She remembered the pitiful flicker of the tiny lamp Montrose held over his friend’s dead body to illuminate her work. She blinked, and a tear dropped from her cheek and splashed the corner of the document. Malcolm leaned toward her. “You asked why we had come to retrieve you, “Nadira. You are holding it in your hands, the key to the Hermetica of Elysium. Read it to me, little one.”

Nadira took a shuddering breath. “It reads: ‘The world welcomes the mind of the seeker. All you are asking for is here. All of knowledge is here. All the answers are here. Here the seeker finds peace. Knowledge comes not from words. Seek ye the river’s edge for the key to understanding.’ Then start the strange symbols. I cannot read those. There is a picture of two flowers next to the word ‘understanding’, one at either end of the word.” Nadira looked up at Malcolm. He had his chin in his hand, thinking. He smiled at her.