Montagne was accompanied by a large entourage of guards, and if Isabella chose now to exact her revenge, it would mean certain death for both of them.
The man trotted up on his horse, looking from side to side at the people gathered on the road. He was a smallish man, mouse-like in the face with a thin mustache and beady eyes. He appeared to be enjoying the attention he was receiving as he rode ahead of his guards.
“Good morning, my good people,” he called out.
The crowd cheered and reached up their hands to touch him as he passed.
Simon could tell Isabella was growing more agitated by the minute as Montagne grew closer. He tensed as well when Montagne drew up his horse in front of them and fixed them with a frown.
“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded, pointing at Isabella whose face was still covered by the sheet.
“Influenza,” Simon said shortly, afraid his accent would give him away if he said more.
Montagne paled, and he immediately backed his horse several paces. “Good God, get her out of here.”
On cue, Isabella dissolved into a coughing fit, and Montagne turned away as fast as his horse would allow. He motioned to his men. “We’ll come back later.”
As they disappeared down the road, Simon all but hauled her the remaining distance to the gate. The people next in line stepped back until they were the only two standing close to the two monks at the entrance.
Just as the monk standing to the right was about to begin the blessing over Isabella, she let loose the sheet around her face and leaned forward. “It is I, Princess Isabella,” she whispered.
Before she could say anything further, the monk turned and gestured her inwards. “We have been waiting for you, Your Highness,” he said in a soft, somber voice.
As Isabella made to follow him, Simon put out a hand. “I don’t like this,” he said, an uneasy feeling sweeping over him. “How did they know you were coming?”
“They know all,” she said simply. “Come, they will do us no harm.”
Mystified, he allowed her to lead him inside the gates. Once in, a group of three monks surrounded them and escorted them through a heavy stone door.
The chamber echoed the sounds of their footsteps and the stones felt cool around them. Torches were lit along the sides of the walls but the ceilings were so high the interior still seemed dimly lit.
Their bodies cast elongated shadows along the walls as they hurried along the maze of corridors.
And suddenly the hall opened up into a huge chamber. Simon gazed around in stupefaction at the vastness of the room. The walls exploded upwards seemingly to the sky. Along the top was a walkway with columns, and he could barely make out the tiny outlines of the monks hurrying back and forth. The entire back of the room was fashioned entirely out of the most beautiful stained glass, making the cathedrals of England pale in comparison.
Hundreds of candles flickered, bathing the entire room in a golden glow. If a host of angels suddenly burst from the rafters, he wouldn’t be surprised. The entire monastery had such an ethereal quality that he was reluctant to even speak in more than a hushed tone.
A monk, flanked by two others, hurried down the center of the room, hands outstretched to Isabella. “We’ve been waiting for you, Your Highness,” he said, echoing the earlier monk’s words.
“It is good to see you again, Father Ling,” she said in a choked voice.
The monk turned back his hood, and Simon was surprised to see a man of Oriental descent staring back at him. But then Isabella said much of their influence came from the East.
Completely bald, the man stood a good six inches shorter than Simon’s own six foot height, but his regal bearing made him seem much taller. He certainly didn’t fit with the preconceived image Simon had of a man trained in fighting skills.
Isabella took his hands and kissed him on either cheek. “There is much I must know,” she said.
“In good time, Your Highness,” he said, returning her gesture.
He turned to Simon, and a smile crinkled the lines around his eyes. He took Simon’s hand in both of his. “I have seen you many times in my visions, Lord Merrick. I am grateful to you for helping the princess. We are all rejoicing over her safe return.”
Simon nodded, too stunned to reply. How had this man known who he was?
The monk turned away and said to Isabella, “Walk with me.”
She gestured Simon to follow, and he fell in behind them. When they reached the far end, the monk paused at the wall and turned to Isabella. “Have you the map?”
“I do,” she said.
