Lady Agnes Mystery Vol.2. Andrea Japp

at least until yesterday – are a number of works containing writings of such a disturbing and dangerous nature that they must never be allowed to fall into the hands of evildoers or those motivated by greed.’

      ‘A secret library? Here at the abbey?’ Annelette repeated, astounded. ‘Where?’

      Éleusie glanced over at the tapestry covering one wall of her study and limited herself to one word:

      ‘Behind.’

      ‘Of course, I should have guessed,’ the apothecary said ruefully. ‘That long wall with no doors or windows that extends from your chambers … When was it built?’

      ‘Judging from the plans drawn up on a piece of parchment I keep locked in my safe, the library was included in the original plans of the building a century ago.’

      ‘So the murderer wanted the parchment, not your seal. At last, her actions make sense.’

      Annelette’s initial amazement at the Abbess’s confession gave way to a burgeoning curiosity, a feverish excitement. She went on hurriedly:

      ‘Does the library by any chance contain any … scientific works?’

      ‘Yes, many of which are extraordinary and challenge even our most long-held beliefs.’

      ‘May I … I hardly dare ask your permission to consult a few of them, that is if … You see, so many of the explanations we are given appear incomplete, not to say illogical.’

      Éleusie paused again. What if she were committing an even graver mistake by trusting this woman? After all, besides the apothecary’s own word, what other proof of her honesty did she have? What if she were simply a spy in the pay of their enemies? What if she were indeed the murderess – as Yolande de Fleury, the sister in charge of the granary whom life had treated so unkindly, had claimed shortly before being fatally poisoned?

      ‘Our late lamented Pope Benoît’s orders were categorical. Nobody but I must enter the library under any pretext.’

      The apothecary nun’s plain face grew sullen, and Éleusie stifled a feeling of growing resentment.

      ‘Now is not the time for this type of discussion or, worse still, this squabbling,’ she replied sharply. ‘What I am about to tell you is so crucial, so appalling, as to render any temper tantrum on your part entirely out of place.’

      Annelette looked at her and smiled apologetically.

      ‘You are right, Reverend Mother. Please forgive me. My only excuse, if such it is, is that I would give anything to gain even a little more knowledge.’

      ‘Knowledge can be a terrible thing,’ Éleusie pointed out.

      ‘No. It is what mankind does with it that is terrible. Science is not to blame if men choose to use advances in the knowledge of anatomy to become better torturers rather than to invent better cures.’

      An unexpected tenderness lit up the Abbess’s face and she observed:

      ‘You remind me of my dear nephew when you speak like that. I wish he would come back to me. I feel so defenceless … There I go again with my foolish self-pity!’ Suddenly, she appeared resolved and declared:

      ‘I have spent the past few days making a scrupulous inventory. Three of the manuscripts in the secret library were stolen during the diversion. The choice of works comes as no surprise to me and proves without doubt that the arsonist knew exactly what he was looking for. I caught him red-handed, disguised in a monk’s habit, his cowl drawn over his face. I tried without success to grab the manuscripts.’

      ‘Is that why you ordered all the exits to be locked and a thorough search of all the sisters, as well as their bundles and carts?’

      ‘Yes. And it won’t surprise you to know that “he” was in fact a “she”. The blow I received was fierce, but it didn’t have a man’s violence behind it. The manuscripts have not yet left Clairets and we must find them as quickly as possible.’

      ‘But the abbey is so vast …’ the apothecary began, before Éleusie interrupted her with a confession that left her reeling.

      ‘Of the three volumes, one was a large notebook belonging to the knight Eustache de Rioux and my nephew Francesco. In it were recorded decades of research and discoveries – both ours and those of our predecessors, the Knights Templar* – concerning our quest. During the fall of Saint-Jean-d’Acre, shortly before the slaughter of thirty thousand souls, Eustache de Rioux and a Knight Templar helped a small group of women and children escape into the tunnels under the citadel. I am unaware of the exact chain of events, but the women demanded to surrender to the enemy, believing their lives would be spared, and the Knight Templar chose to accompany them. Before returning to what would become a bloody massacre, the Knight Templar handed his notebook to Eustache, and beseeched him to carry on the sacred quest that he and a few brothers had kept a jealously guarded secret. The stolen notebook belonging to Francesco records all of these clues, all of our findings.’

      ‘Its loss is a catastrophe,’ breathed Annelette, her eyes wide with fright.

      ‘And I haven’t yet mentioned the nature of the other two works,’ Éleusie commented. ‘The second is a guide to necromancy of the most depraved kind, written by a certain Justus. Listen: I have been unable to bring myself to peruse its corrupt pages. However, I know that it did not simply aim to establish contact with the hereafter, already an unforgivable sin in the eyes of the Church, but to enslave souls in purgatory and employ them to evil ends. Francesco purchased it only in order to destroy it, thereby ensuring that it would not fall into the hands of scoundrels. He kept postponing hurling it into the purifying flames that would reduce it to ashes, and now … If it were to fall into our enemies’ hands, if they were to make use of the terrible formulae within …’

      ‘Oh dear God …’

      ‘Wait. The worst – or at least the most worrying – is yet to come. The third work is known as ‘The Vallombroso Treatise’. It …’ Éleusie went silent, uncertain whether she should go on, already fearing the consequences of what she was about to reveal to Annelette. ‘It … It claims … Come on, I must take the plunge. It proves categorically that … that the earth moves round the sun; it spins round the sun, always following the same trajectory, as though held aloft by some unknown force.’

      ‘What! Are you saying that the system described by Ptolemy in which the earth is fixed at the centre of the universe is false?’

      ‘Totally erroneous. Of course you realise that, if anyone overheard us speaking about this, we would be accused of heresy?’

      The apothecary, dazed, ignored the caveat. Deep in thought, she appeared to have forgotten everything else – the murdered monks, the fire, the theft, the threat hanging over their quest. Suddenly she cried out, exultant:

      ‘Now I understand everything … What an idiot, what a fool! And I call myself a scientist! The true scientific mind must never cease questioning. If the earth were fixed in the centre of the heavens, how could the changing seasons, the tides, day and night, the stars be explained! What a privilege, what joy, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Reverend Mother, for this extraordinary revelation!’

      Éleusie’s irritation got the better of her and she retorted sharply:

      ‘Leave your rejoicing until later, daughter – that is, if we are still alive.’

      The reproof brought Annelette’s jubilation to an abrupt end, and she lowered her head. The Abbess went on:

      ‘The workings of the scientific mind are clearly beyond me! The monk at the Vallombroso monastery* who drafted the treatise paid for it with his life. I wonder whether the unfortunate “accident” that caused him to fall and split his head open against a pillar was not the work of our enemies. In any event, the treatise holds the key to the two birth charts you are already familiar with. These charts were discovered by the same Knight Templar who entrusted his notes to Eustache.’ Éleusie broke off, then went on in a faltering voice: