Lady Agnes Mystery Vol.2. Andrea Japp

studied her daughter, wondering what exactly she was leading up to. She nodded. Annelette went on:

      ‘In that case, given that they no longer possessed the astrological calculations with which to identify her, how did the camerlingo’s henchmen find her so quickly and plot her destruction?’

      Expounded in this way, the error was so glaring that Éleusie was speechless. Her first thought was how to warn Francesco as swiftly as possible of Annelette’s irrefutable conclusion. She whispered:

      ‘Dear God, Annelette, you are right! Could we have been manipulated from the very beginning? Has the camerlingo placed a spy among us? I shudder at the thought.’

      Faces, the sound of voices, snippets of memory flashed through the Abbess’s mind. Who? Could an evildoer have infiltrated their small group of initiates? If so, Benedetti knew their names, as well as Agnès’s. And, if he struck, their quest would be thrown into turmoil. It would never survive. Who? For safety’s sake, they had kept their identities secret from one another.

      ‘Does Madame de Souarcy suspect how important she is?’

      ‘How could she, given that we ourselves know so little? We only know that Agnès plays a vital role, but we don’t know why.’

      ‘If only the chart pointed to her unequivocally.’

      ‘Indeed,’ agreed Éleusie.

      ‘Let us go back to Eustache de Rioux, Reverend Mother.’

      ‘Is this a cross-examination?’ retorted Éleusie de Beaufort, who was growing increasingly uneasy.

      Annelette was under no misapprehension. The Abbess’s sudden sharpness was a sign of her continuing mistrust.

      ‘Without a doubt. Time is running short. You said so yourself. Suspicion is a luxury we can ill afford. I am your only ally. Moreover … Consider quickly what I am about to say: if I were one of them, now that these precious documents have been stolen, I could kill you this instant.’

      With a deftness that took Éleusie completely by surprise, Annelette pounced on her and held to her throat the tip of a short dagger3 she kept hidden in the pleat at the front of her robe.

      ‘What! … Good heavens!’ cried the Abbess.

      Annelette stepped back, replacing the knife in the cloth scabbard sewn into her robe, and said, tetchily:

      ‘Pray, spare me a lecture on the impropriety of a woman of God carrying a weapon. I refuse to be a sacrificial lamb. I must continue my mission – which is to protect you. I owe it to God and to our dear departed Benoît.’

      Annelette was mistaken. Éleusie had no intention of preaching virtue to her. The possession of a dagger by one of her daughters, which only days before would have angered her, comforted her now, although she reproached herself for negotiating with her faith.

      ‘The Knight Hospitaller Eustache de Rioux was Francesco de Leone’s godfather in the order. Not only was he a formidable soldier but one of the Hospitallers’ most respected theologians. Is it not an extraordinary coincidence that the Knight Templar chose to entrust him with his notes in the tunnel under Acre moments before the final battle that ended in bloody defeat?’

      ‘Indeed, it seems extraordinary to us in our ignorance. However, it further proves that this is all part of a greater plan, a plan so complex that it is beyond our understanding. What else did the Templar’s notes reveal?’

      ‘They contained a curious sentence: “Five women and at the centre a sixth.” As well as a runic prophecy.’

      ‘What did it predict?’

      ‘The runes gave advice to the warrior of light who took up the quest – in this case Francesco de Leone. They warned him against his enemies who are powerful and ruthless, and against being mistaken. This was no doubt a reference to the first erroneous astrological calculations. Before escorting the women and children out of the tunnel under the Saint-Jean citadel and perishing in the act, the Knight Templar mentioned a text –“a scroll of papyrus in Aramaic purchased from a Bedouin” – which he went on to describe as one of the most sacred texts in the history of humanity.’

      ‘Do we know what it contains?’

      ‘No. The Knight Templar hid the scroll in a safe place, he said.’

      ‘Do we know where?’ Annelette continued, a catch in her voice.

      Éleusie, in a last act of prudence, refrained from mentioning that the Templar commandery at Arville was at the centre of the mystery. She simply shook her head.

      ‘Is that all? Don’t try to conceal anything more from me, Reverend Mother; time is our most implacable enemy.’

      ‘That is all I know – except that the key to deciphering the ancient text surely lies in the astrological discoveries contained in the Vallombroso treatise. But they are complex and time-consuming and Francesco has not yet finished studying them. For it appears – and again the scientist in you will be intrigued – that in his treatise the monk not only alluded to the earth moving around the sun but also to the existence of other celestial spheres than those hitherto identified. Three,4 to be precise. Since the first calculation of the birth charts did not take them into account, it was necessarily false.’

      ‘God Almighty … Other planets, unknown to the great scholars! … I feel honoured to be privy to such extraordinary revelations. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Madame,’ declared Annelette, her eyes brimming with tears. She quickly regained her composure and went on: ‘Does the second birth chart refer to an event or a person?’

      ‘In all honesty, I have told you everything I know. If it does indeed refer to a second person, what makes him so important as to justify this many deaths in order to guard his secret? Francesco is convinced that the key lies in the ancient scroll in Aramaic. Perhaps he is right.’

      Annelette stood up, declaring in a threatening tone:

      ‘If the treatise and the notebook leave these walls, this important person, if indeed he exists, will be doomed. They will destroy him. And if it isn’t a person but a miraculous event, then Benedetti will make sure it never happens. In other words, these two works must under no circumstances leave the abbey.’

      Suddenly prey to a fit of nervous rage, Éleusie all but shouted:

      ‘Oh really? Do you think me too old or too foolish to have reached the same conclusion? And just how do you suggest we go about it, by scouring every square inch of the abbey grounds?’

      ‘Of course not. We haven’t time.’

      ‘Give me a better solution, then.’

      ‘I’m afraid it will hardly surprise you. I agree with you that the thief and the murderess are one and the same person. All that remains is for us to find her.’

      ‘Many long weeks have passed since Adélaïde Condeau’s death, during which we have tried, you have tried, unsuccessfully to track her down,’ the Abbess corrected, in an accusing tone.

      ‘That is true,’ admitted Annelette, her pride wounded. ‘However, if you hadn’t waited so long to confide in me, I would have known where to look, instead of groping around in the dark.’ She added spitefully: ‘And, if I’d been better informed, perhaps Hedwige du Thilay and Yolande de Fleury would still be with us!’

      A wave of sorrow engulfed Éleusie, and she lowered her head in order to hide her eyes, which were brimming with tears, from the apothecary. She murmured almost inaudibly:

      ‘The thought plagues me every night. Forgive me. I beg you, forgive me. Even though I am entirely undeserving and my actions have been unforgivable.’

      Annelette felt a wrenching sadness, and rushed over to the distraught woman, embracing her and whispering in her ear:

      ‘No,