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called out a question, but Roland ignored it. He was imagining the devil’s steel hail. Imagining the arrows slicing from the twilight to slaughter men and horses, and then he was in a small graveyard and one of his men was in the broken nave of the church and had found the steps that climbed into the old bell tower. ‘It’s empty,’ he called.
    ‘Inside,’ Roland ordered.
    And so, in the dusk, Roland to the dark tower came.

Seven
     
    Thomas, Keane, and their prisoner reached the mill to find Karyl and nine remaining men-at-arms ready, though what they were ready for none of them knew. They were all in mail, their horses were saddled, and they were nervous. ‘We know about Genevieve,’ Karyl greeted Thomas.
    ‘How?’
    Karyl jerked his scarred face towards a man dressed only in hose, shirt, boots, and coat. The man had been shrinking from Thomas’s sight, but Thomas spurred towards him. ‘Keep an eye on that bastard,’ he told Karyl, indicating Pitou, ‘if he annoys you, hit him.’ He curbed his horse by the reluctant man and looked down into a very anxious face. ‘What happened to your monk’s habit?’ he asked.
    ‘I still have it,’ Brother Michael said.
    ‘Then why aren’t you wearing it?’
    ‘Because I don’t want to be a monk!’ Brother Michael protested.
    ‘He brought us news.’ Karyl had followed Thomas. ‘He said Genevieve was taken, and you are hunted.’
    ‘They have taken Genevieve,’ Thomas confirmed.
    ‘De Verrec?’
    ‘I assume he’s taking her to Labrouillade.’
    ‘I sent the rest of the men to Castillon,’ Karyl said, ‘and told Sir Henri to send at least forty men towards us. It was his idea.’ He nodded down at Brother Michael.
    Thomas looked at the monk. ‘Your idea?’
    Brother Michael looked about the hilltop anxiously, as if seeking somewhere to hide. ‘It seemed a sensible idea,’ he said finally.
    Thomas was not so certain it was sensible. He had ten men, twelve if you counted the reluctant student and even more reluctant monk, and they would be pursuing Roland de Verrec while the men from Castillon d’Arbizon would be roaming an unfriendly country looking for Thomas. That could lead to disaster if either small group was confronted by a much larger enemy. Yet if they did link up? He nodded approval. ‘It was probably a good idea,’ he said grudgingly. ‘So now you’ll go back to Montpellier?’
    ‘Me? Why?’ Brother Michael asked indignantly.
    ‘To learn how to sniff piss.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘So what do you want?’
    ‘To stay with you.’
    ‘Or with Bertille?’
    Brother Michael coloured. ‘To stay with you, sire.’
    Thomas nodded towards Keane. ‘He doesn’t want to be a priest and you don’t want to be a monk. Now you’re both Hellequin.’
    Brother Michael looked disbelieving. ‘I am?’ he asked excitedly.
    ‘You are,’ Thomas said.
    ‘So all we need now is a pair of ripe young girls who don’t want to be nuns,’ Keane said cheerfully.
    Karyl had not seen Roland de Verrec pass northwards with Genevieve. ‘You told us to stay hidden,’ he said reproachfully, ‘away from the road. So we did.’
    ‘He didn’t come this way,’ Thomas said, ‘he’s on the Gignac road, at least I think he is, and the bastard has a day’s lead on us.’
    ‘We follow?’
    ‘We’ll use the roads through the hills,’ Thomas said. He did not know those roads, but they had to exist because, looking north, he could see villages in the higher ground. He could see a mill on the skyline and smoke rising from a shadowed valley, and where there were people there were roads. They would be slower than the high roads, but with luck, with no thrown horseshoes and no
coredors
, he might catch up with de Verrec before the virgin knight reached Labrouillade. He dismounted and walked to the southern edge of the small plateau on which the ruined mill stood. He could see Montpellier clearly and also see small bands of horsemen scouring the scorched ground where the houses outside the city walls had been burned to deny an English attack any shelter or cover. There were at least six bands of men, no group larger than seven or eight, all of them exploring the bushes at the edges of the cleared ground. ‘They’re hunting me,’ he told Karyl, who had come to stand beside him.
    Karyl shaded his eyes. ‘Men-at-arms,’ he grunted. Even at this distance it was possible to see that at least two of the bands were in grey mail. The sun glinted off helmets.
    ‘City