Two and Three Weeks following Trinity Sunday, 1198

Madeleine looked thoughtful when she finally departed Daria’s chambers. The covenant’s prima rarely called anyone into her presence, so Madeleine’s summons was as unexpected as the visit was lengthy.

It was a week later when the knight appeared. “In the village, my lord,” the peasant panted, having run the mile uphill to find Stephan in the outer bailey. “He rides up to the castle now!” Stephan called Michi over and quickly organized a squad of men. A lone knight was not likely looking for mischief, but he could do a lot of damage if he caught the complement unprepared. “What is his heraldry?” Stephan asked. The villager shrugged. “I do not recognize the colours, sir, but he bears a badge of Namur.”

Sure enough, the knight was on an errand for the Count. “My lord Etien of Namur will arrive tomorrow,” he informed Daria in the great hall, as Gaspard, Madeleine, and Stephan looked on. Geert de Das—that was the knight’s name—reckoned a party of six or seven with Etien, but to that would be added a score at least squires and servants, armsmen and pages and camp-followers. The castle burst into activity as soon as the knight departed: animals to slaughter and trenchers to bake for the feast; the great hall to be swept, new rushes laid down, and tables brought in; heavy rotas to be planned for the watch and the security of the village. Stephan would be Daria’s bodyguard, while Gaspard relied as always on Michi. Remi was not at the covenant.

The Count was a giant of a man, thick-necked and red in the face, with quick, calculating eyes and a manner that promised a sudden and dreadful temper. He arrived after nones with Geert and another knight Gervais, and a sandy-haired monk whose white habit with a red cross Maltese said as much about his vocation as his alert stature and wiry, upright build. A young lady, quiet and perhaps frail, was introduced as the Count’s niece, and another man in embroidered robes proved to be a mason. Each had a servant or squire, and a jongleur followed them in. The great hall was splendid, but despite the apparent honour given the Count, Morris seated him at the second table. The Count did not acknowledge the slight, but he did become restless when after a quarter hour Daria had still not appeared.

She swept in from the library with Stephan on her heels. There was little conversation as the meal was served, but eventually Daria addressed the Count. “The borders are a concern for me,” Etien told her, “Limburg is raising an army.” Daria was unconcerned. “Duke Waleran recognizes our status as an Imperial fief, just as I’m sure you do, my lord Count.” “What good is an Imperial charter when there is no Emperor?” demanded Etien. “Frederick Stauffen is excommunicate, and Otto doesn’t have the support of the German princes. If you hope a new Emperor will protect you, you will have years to wait—years of war, I think. And what of this?” A servant produced a document, which Daria gave only the quickest glance before waving it toward Gaspard. It was a letter from an agent of Duke Waleran, confirming a plot with Daria to bring troops of Limburg to Bois de Haillot. “A forgery,” Daria responded calmly. Etien didn’t press the issue. “I’m concerned for your safety here—you have nothing but academics to protect you. I can fortify your castle.” He was willing to formalize the agreement with a marriage—Daria to one of his knights, or even himself—but she replied that Triamore’s oaths prevented her from any such worldly entanglements. Etien grew angry, knocking over his chair. “Take what I offer now,” he demanded, “or by Christ’s wounds you’ll have nothing later!” If Daria was impressed she made no sign. “The lord who brings an army here will weep for his losses and curse the day he saw his fortune in these stones.”

Most eyes were on this exchange, but Michi noticed something else: The jongleur had slipped out—perhaps to the kitchens—but had not returned. With Daria retired, Michi caught Stephan’s eye and they went looking for the missing jester. They found him in the covenant’s vault beyond the pantries; he had opened two gates and was now considering the locks on the strong boxes. “Don’t kill me; I have taken nothing!” the young man exclaimed. Godwin was his name. “What are you after?” Stephan demanded. The thief looked puzzled. “The silver, of course. And other treasure. What else would there be?” They contemplated putting him to the sword right then, but Michi had a different idea. “Return to tha camp down there, and find out what tha Count there’s got in mind for us. You be our spy, see, and I won’t have ta cut out your liver.”

The feast wound down, and Etien returned after some hours to his encampment in the fallow field outside the village. [???] wandered down a little while later. Many of the villagers had departed to the safety of the castle bailey or the outlying hamlets, and all had surely buried their valuables. But a handfull were making a few pennies selling ale and trading news with the soldiers and servants of the camp, and [???] had little trouble finding a game of dice. He could learn little, but it was clear at least that the small force was not preparing an imminent attack on the covenant. But then, neither were they preparing to depart on the marrow, and there was definitely a sense that their business at Bois de Haillot was not concluded. And from the Count’s tent [???] did catch one small snippet of conversation: The mason, Evrard, talking to Etien. “I would need a more detailed tour to make a full assessment, my lord,” the mason was saying, “but the main work would be in the keep and the bailey. I’m confident the castle could be defensible by next summer, and possibly complete within a year—but it is a grand building, and it will not be finished cheaply.”

The Templar showed up at the gates the next morning. “I confess to curiosity about your doings here,” he told Gaspard and Madeleine when brought before them. “Much is said of wizardry, but I hear also that many scholars visit your library.” His name was Brother Chretien, from the Templar commanderie at Huy. “My lord Etien seems to have made up his mind about us,” Madeleine said. “I am not Etien,” the Templar responded. They gave him a brief tour of the keep and library. Conversation turned to the dragon in Verdun and the destruction of the robber-baron of the Ardennes, and Chretien seemed to warm to his hosts. Eventually they talked of the Count’s business at Bois de Haillot. “Etien owes the order a great deal of money,” Chretien explained, “and my preceptor Thierry le Bacheler is personally accountable for those loans. He has begun to worry that Etien will not be able to repay if he doesn’t complete his plans—which include owning this castle. I was sent along for a first-hand look at your community; I think Thierry is rather hoping I’ll uncover some witchcraft worthy of Templar intervention.” “And what have you found?” Madeleine asked. “I will advise my lord Thierry against direct support of Etien. But make no mistake about the Count’s intentions. And know that my voice is but one, and I fear it carries limited weight.”

Tuesday before Whitsunday, 1198

Michi spent the evening under a spell of Gaspard's that made him invisible. While that was a great aid in the attack on the temple of Nemestrinus and the chambers beneath, which Gaspard reckons might have been an infernal regio, it left Michi concerned that his heroic actions went unobserved by his fellow covenfolk. To rectify this, he provides the following account of the action that evening. To ensure his contributions are fully credited, he begins by covering some of the events leading up to that dreadful night.

Gaspard has aall his baies an' frack in a twist cos o' some Quasitoril or somit is comin' ta ask about t' dragon what I sar aff in t' town, so oi tells him nat tay worry and set 'em straight about what 'appened. Now 'im and Madeline 'ave been tryin' ta read the books oi nicked for 'em, but ets in code or summit but oi tells 'em it aall looks loike sqiggles tay me and they will have tay do with out while oi show wolf boy the ropes af guardin' an' stuff.

So dis fella an lass turn up an' ask aall tha questions and oi tell 'em aall about tha wolf lady and tha dragon that oi drove off and tha creepy little naked fella that led us to the fairies, an' they seem preety pleased about all that.

So dere we were all a loungin' in the great hall when this back woods hick turns up lyin 'is arse orf about cultist in the woods havin' kidnapped his mate. So off we trot after the wotsits had argued, turn up in dis guys shed a couple o' days later, kit up and leave d'squire and totty behind we head off to where the cultin' is supposed to be taking place.

Gaspard works his jazzan'. Oi vanish, takin t' oppertunity if'n you know what oi mean.

So we heads in and make shart work of 'em wit tha help of an imaginary giant head, but when Gaspard (lad's got legs) catches and questions the victim it turns out that lyin chops who brought us in is in the cult. So we hightail it back to tha barn and the beggers havent just run off wit' th' totty.

So more hocus pocus and some slippers an' we're on the trail, heading off deeper into the woods in th' pourin' rain.

Madelin meenwhoile is draggin her big wet dress an' chatting about 'em being "romans" or some such but oi tole her they were kidnappers and the romans have been gone for years. She said "par-dong" and on we went.

So we follow th' dogs and the magics to this old place full a' pillars and behind it there's this cave, now still bein' all see t'rough oi sneak on in and have a bit of a look, an' dere's dese two fellas standin' behoind a palisade. So oi knocks 'em out with tha faader helpin while Madelin tries to talk to 'em. "Kidnappin' cultists, love," oisay. "No sense in talkin, lets get to th' hittin'." So behind em's a big pit and a bunch o' clothes, so oi'm tinkin', "Neked Celestene, won't that be nice!"

Then behoind it is this statue of some goat boy purple magic wand and hairy sack of magic an' all, an on this mural behind him theres some steps, so there is all sorts of faffin' around and eventually Gaspard gets this mural to turn into stairs wit magic or bowin or sometin' oi dun know.

So we head on down these steps and it starts gettin' well creepy, I kin tell you. I wusnet happy about going on down there, so aboot half way down the stairs something goes wrong wit de' spellin' makin' me see through and now no one can hear me oider. So right at the bottom there's these two arches; the left one (oi tink) is covered in all da preety people and down dere, there was this mirror which shows things like they really are. And the other arch this was covered in people getting tortured, only the others are all too busy chatting about rescuin' to notice, so oi gets em ta see by makin' em walk into me and on we go.

So there we were deep in the depths of the earth, bein very very quite, hunting cultists. And we finds em in this big round room with Celestens (dutifully neked) spread eagled on a big X, now Oi didn't think she was into dat sort o' ting but this culty fellow liked it so . . . and they had shaved off all of her hair and there was dancin and all sorts goin on.

"Gaspard," whispers brother Cornelious, "What have you got that can kill the entire room?" "Michi?" answers Gaspard and we set upon 'em.

So tha black priest isn't too pleased about an invisible pikey killin all his boys and he starts cuttin on Celesten and tryin to drop this big bowl of hair and blood and stuff into the big burnin pit in the middle of th' room. So we kill im and his mates and he calls in all sorts of demon chums and we kill them as well but he still drops his bowl in the fire. Now oi'm gettin a bit worried about this but then Madelin needs me ta pretend to be an angel to help question the remanin' cultist who were weein' der pants der so dey were.

Den in the fire pit dis big fallic lookin mess o' shadows and tentacles starts eatin' the questionees and callin all th' wierd lookin' bugs into the room to be eatin us, and we set about it and Gaspard does some of his jazzin' on it, now tings aren't lookin' too good at dis point and Gaspard is orf it so I shouts for the fadder to run and oi leg it—oi don't remember the magic as gone wrong and 'e can't hear me till oi catch up to dress boy and were off on our toes.

Oi ope is God bless' i'm an' aall dat cos the good brother held back that ting whoile we legged it and once we got topside we messed that mural right up so it couldn't get out and den robbed all them cultists clothes along with thier cash, of which they had a pile o' silver in a box, and hightailed it back to the covenant.

Michi fails to mention that Celestine was brought out of the temple alive, though quite traumatized.

End of Chapter Two

Tuesday before Whitsunday and the weeks before, 1198

The Redcap arrived two weeks ahead of the Queasitori, bearing news of their imminent arrival. "All of Normandy--and half of Chistendom--talks about the dragon at Verdun," he told them at the modest feast that marked his arrival.

"Confronting a dragon is certainly no crime," the Queasitor Bonhomme said when he arrived with his partner and entourage, "Even in a city, surrounded by mundanes. But why was it there? And why you were there? And what of this rogue maga?" His partner was Vertidas--younger, less experienced, and considerably less dour. "Nobody suspects you of violating the Hermetic Code," she said, "This is all routine for an event like this." They questioned Gaspard in great detail, though pulling details from his sieve-like narrative was an exercise. Madeleine and Michi were next.

In the mean time, Daria had tasked Gaspard and Madeleine with deciphering the contents of their newfound books--or rather, the copious notes with which they were filled. The handwriting was quickly found to be that of two people, and further identified as that of DuCraindre and Pietre. Many leaves had been inked, pumiced, and inked again, but much of the handwriting was in code. "Look at this," Madeleine pointed out to Gaspard. "Garden of Eden?" he read. "Should that mean something to me?" "There's a lot about it here," she replied.

The books, their notes, and the connection of Pietre to Triamore eventually became the focus of the Queasitori's investigation. They questioned Daria at length, but if they found anything damning they didn't bring it to light. Eventually they departed.

Shortly after, a peasant begged an audience with the magi. His accent was thick with the back woods, and his Dutch more of a pidgin than the language. He seemed to indicate that he had a relative in the village, and sure enough when Andries was called up he was able to translate the talk, which he claimed was that of distant cousins in Luxembourg, though he didn't actually know this stranger. The supplicant called himself Wulfram, and said his village--Vikten--was terrorized by a dark cult. "They have taken a young man from the village called Alfons," Andries translated. "He says they are planning a black mass, and will kill the man then in sacrifice." "Why do they not seek help there?" Remi asked. "Their priest leads the black mass, and their lord holds other lands, and seldom visits. They heard Triamore might be able to help them."

Gaspard was quickly dispatched with his usual retinue. It would take nearly three days to reach Vikten; Wulfram, whose speech was becoming more intelligible, would guide them there. "We will not enter the village, for they will see you," Wulfram explained. "A woodcutter's cottage is a league away; we trust the old man and his wife. We will hide there until we hear word." The journey took them across the Meuse and into Luxembourg, where the terrain was hilly and forested and the villages huddled in tiny patches of field. Late in the third day, just a mile or so from their destination, they were accosted by a putrescence. "What is that?" said Madeleine, pointing to a mass of rotting flesh nailed to a post. "The first lamb of Spring, of course" Wulfram replied, surprised by her ignorance. "For fertility, and a good harvest this year."

At the cottage they found the woodcutter in a worry. "They're holding the black mass this very night!" he said. "At the old chapel." The compatriots quickly shed their gear and prepared for action, leaving their pack animals at the cottage with Stephan's squire Cyril and Madeleine's maid Celestine.

It was a dark night, and the rain poured down. The old chapel was a ruin, a rectangular shell at what might have once been a village, but was now overtaken by forest. A few moments' observation confirmed what the old woodcutter had told them: On a makeshift alter lay the hapless Alfons, while behind it a hooded figure prepared his knives. Two or three worshippers knelt before the sacrificial scene. A quick scouting identified two additional cultists, hidden among the rocks and bracken outside the church.

With Gaspard's spells masking their approach, it was quick work. "How did you find me," the villager asked when Bruder Cornelius finally cut him free. "Wulfram sent us," Cornelius answered, but rather than calm the man, it sent him into a panic. He raced from the chapel, and it was only when Gaspard cornered him into an illusion of fiery walls that they took him once more. "Wulfram is one of them!" the man protested.

Stephan quickly searched the area, but Wulfram had disappeared. Bewildered and apprehensive, they returned to the woodcutter's cottage.

Inside the rainsoaked structure, the woodcutter's few belongings were tossed about. Cyril lay on the floor, blood oozing from his head. The baggage was still there, and the pack animals outside. Nothing had been taken, it seemed. But of the woodcutter and his wife there was no sign--nor any sign of Celestine.