Gene of Isis (24 page)

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. ‘Really? I don’t remember anything erotic.’ This wasn’t a lie—it was just a kiss that I didn’t even get to finish. So why could I not wipe the smile off my face?

‘He’s a lucky man, this new boyfriend of yours.’ Andre clearly didn’t believe my drawing-a-blank routine. ‘What did you say his name was?’

‘Albray,’ I informed, as I searched for a second name to give him. ‘Devere.’ That would do.

‘Albray Devere?’
He sounded most surprised. ‘That is a legendary name in France.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Albray Devere was a famous thirteenth-century knight who came to the aid of the Cathars at the besieged fort of Montsègur.’

‘Did he die there?’ I asked. If he did, it certainly wasn’t my Albray…anyway, the name was just a fabrication.

‘Apparently not.’ Andre was enjoying filling me in for a change. ‘It is said that he aided two women to escape from the fortress the night before it was to be handed over to the crusaders who fought for the church. It is said that the women were carrying holy relics, which they speedily delivered to places of safekeeping.’

‘What kind of relics?’

Andre shrugged. ‘Some say they carried the genealogical charts of the Royal House of Judah, which had been stolen from the Roman authorities before they had the chance to destroy them. Other accounts say it was the Holy Grail, or the Ark of the Covenant, that was whisked away from Montsègur that night.’

Why was it that every intrigue in history seemed to lead back to the Holy Grail? ‘Well, obviously I am not dating that Albray Devere,’ I posed in jest. ‘Thanks for the tale nonetheless. I guess I’d better hit the books.’ I stood and scratched my head.

‘I’m off to Sharm el-Sheikh to meet up with our delivery of mysterious powder,’ Andre advised, and I snapped out of my daze. ‘I’ll be back early tomorrow. Do you need anything from civilisation?’

I shook my head. ‘I came well prepared, but thanks all the same, and have fun.’ I gave him a wave as he departed.

‘And if you have any trouble—’

‘I won’t have any trouble with Akbar,’ I assured, waving him to go and stop worrying. ‘I’ll be just fine…believe me.’

I was very excited to be returning to Ashlee’s world today—I could study and be with Albray at the same time.

Yes, I was obsessed, and even more so since my dream last night. His presence hung over me—a sweet blessing that made me smile each time I acknowledged its existence. ‘If only it had been real.’ I found myself drifting back into Albray’s enfolding arms, instead of finding my place in the text. ‘If I can at least touch him in my dreams I must be content with that, for it is far better than not at all.’ However, it was not truly Albray in my dreams, just my ideal of him and what I’d like him to say or do. ‘But I have never had so fine a dream before,’ I argued with myself, and then panicked. ‘What if it never happens again?’

I reached for my tea. The argument was too distressing, so I gave up on it. ‘Now,’ I inhaled deeply and out again, ‘where was I?’

I had come to the end of Susan Devere’s account of the incident at the Arsenal Library, and the tale resumed with Ashlee fleeing Paris.

I had no idea what my plan was. Travelling as I was, a noble lady, made me too damned easy to track, although I had enough money to pay the coach to take us all the way to the Mediterranean.

‘Our guise is betraying us.’ I finally voiced my concerns to Nanny, who’d been silent beside me whilst I thought through our best route to the Sinai.

What did I tell you in the beginning?
Albray appeared on the seat opposite me; I had not dismissed him, nor would I unless he specifically requested it.

‘What does your spirit friend say about our situation?’ Nanny asked, without so much as glancing up from her knitting.

Albray and myself were stunned. ‘Do you see him, Nanny?’

Nanny shook her head. ‘I’ve heard you speaking with someone from time to time.’ She glanced around the carriage. ‘I didn’t realise it was a
he,
however,’ she said in a tone of disapproval. ‘Still, I don’t suppose he can do you too much harm, such as he is.’

I laughed, as did Albray. ‘Dear Nanny.’ I kissed her cheek and then sat back to answer her question. ‘Albray thinks we should travel a bit more incognito.’

‘If he is talking about becoming peasants that would be easier said than done,’ Nanny scoffed. ‘Poor people travel by cheap and dangerous means, and I’ll not have you placed in harm’s way.’

Miss Granville, you are already in harm’s way,
Albray explained,
and I’m afraid you are going to have little choice in your change of circumstance as Chiara would like to claim her favour now.

‘Now?’ I was surprised. ‘But we are nowhere near Italy.’

The gypsy witch appeared beside Albray, concern written across her face.
Something terrible has happened to my people,
she said, using a mix of Italian and what I suspected was Romany—which I hadn’t studied, but as the gypsies moved around a lot, their tongue borrowed words from many other European languages. Clearly, Chiara was very upset.

‘Be calm,’ I said. ‘I need you to tell me your troubles slowly, and in Italian preferably.’

Chiara nodded. My
people seldom venture this far west. Gypsy traders are not so appreciated in the midlands of France. Not a mile down the road, you will come to a caravan of women, and you must help them! Our men have been taken. I don’t know the circumstances,
she sobbed.
You must help them. I did not expect to ask so big a favour in return for my services, but if you do this for Chiara,
she pleaded, placing a hand over her heart, I
shall vow to you a lifetime of service.

That’s a very generous offer indeed,
Albray granted.

‘But this will surely delay our quest,’ I said, speaking aloud.

Delays can prove beneficial in my experience.
Albray didn’t seem too worried.
If you fall into the company of gypsies, it will provide you with the perfect cover and you could have no better guides if travelling on the cheap.

‘Fear not, Chiara, I will do what I can for your family,’ I assured her, noting Nanny’s surprise at my words. Chiara began blessing me in several dialects. ‘No need to thank me, as it is clearly the best solution for all of us.’

‘So what have we decided?’ Nanny was quick to ask, sounding a little wary.

‘I think I might surprise you with this one, Nanny.’ I patted her hand. ‘But not to fear, all shall be made clear within the hour.’ I smiled broadly at Albray, rather excited by the prospect of sampling gypsy life.

I could see Nanny was very curious, as I moved from the left to right window looking out for the caravan, but often gypsies had the reputation of being thieves, witches and devil worshippers, so I thought it best to just let the scenario unfold. Nanny was a good judge of character and could make up her own mind about Chiara’s kin.

When I had the coach pull up beside the caravan, I laughed at Nanny’s doubtful expression. ‘I made a promise to someone that helped us escape the Chateau De Vere. I am bound to return this favour,’ I explained and, although Nanny was worried, she trusted me and did not question my course of action.

As I climbed out of my carriage, I was struck by two things: firstly, by how surprised these people were that I had stopped to speak with them, and secondly by how colourful and cheerful their attire
was—their bleak expressions were in distinct contrast.

Unlike Chiara’s drab attire, her descendants had obviously travelled and traded more broadly, for these women displayed a kind of Oriental splendour, with gold coins woven into their dark masses of hair and around their necks and breasts. Their skirts were striped and spotted in vibrant clashes of colour. Bright colours and patterns featured in their shirts, shawls and the scarves that were bound about their heads. Chiara had a very handsome clan indeed.

‘Are voi nella difficoltà, signore?’
I asked them if they were in trouble, hoping they still employed Italian as well as their native Romany. I also wondered where all the men of the band were.
‘Where sono i vostri uomini?’

They all stared at me and I wondered if I should try French. Then the eldest woman rose from her chair and replied in Italian: ‘What concern is that of yours, my lady?’

‘Well,’ I took a deep breath, and as I was beholden to no one any more, I thought I’d try something novel and tell the truth, ‘I owe Chiara a favour and she requested I stop and help you in return for her service to me.’

There were many gasps from those present, and the women muttered quietly among themselves.

‘A mystic.’ The old woman was pleasantly surprised and quite confident about her claim. ‘If Chiara has sent you, you must be more than you appear to be, for we have very great troubles indeed.’

‘Hmmm.’ I looked at our coach driver who was fidgeting impatiently. ‘If I may impose on your
hospitality, ladies, I shall be glad to hear your woes and do what I can.’

‘Any soul sent to me by Chiara is welcome in my wagon,’ the old gypsy confirmed. ‘My name is Chavi Choron. Chiara was my grandmother.’

‘Pleased to meet you Chavi. I am Ashlee—’ I paused before announcing my second name, ‘Winston.’ I decided to take Nanny’s second name as that was safest. ‘Miss,’ I added, so that no one would wonder where my other half was. ‘Unload our luggage, thank you, driver,’ I instructed. ‘We shall not require your services further.’ I paid the coachman double to forget he’d ever seen us and he seemed satisfied with the arrangement. He turned his coach around and headed back to Paris.

As I entered the circle that the horse-drawn caravans formed, the women and children of the clan were smiling shyly at me in greeting. Chavi introduced us to every person there—so many incredibly exotic names whizzed past my ears that, if I didn’t have the ability to read minds, I would have been hard pressed to remember them all. From what I could assess, there were about four extended families in the band.

I introduced my ‘mama’, Beatrice Winston, and they all repeated the foreign name in awe. Nanny was won over from this point on. When she learned that a number of the children present were orphans and in need of tending, Nanny Beat realised she’d just walked into paradise.

I left Nanny with the children and followed Chavi to some chairs that were by her wagon. The old woman’s seat had many cushions and a table was between her seat and mine. As I sat Chavi asked, ‘And who is the knight that comes with you?’

Albray laughed.
It seems we have another mystic in our midst.

I looked to Chavi and she wore a cheeky grin, as did I. ‘He is Albray…he is the one who put me in touch with your grandmother.’

‘Chiara wove a spell for you,’ Chavi stated more than asked. Then she went into trance and for a moment she wore a grave expression. ‘You are running from love…but it will catch up with you.’ The old gypsy sounded happy about the latter.

‘We are here to speak about your problems, Chavi,’ I reminded her kindly, so as not to insult her obvious talent. ‘Tell me, where are your men? Chiara said that you don’t usually travel so far west into France.’

I was told that it was true, they usually confined their trading within southern France and Lorraine.

Chavi had a grandson, Cingar, who was widely known to play the violin so passionately he could bewitch any woman’s heart. The Duchess of Orleans heard the rumour, so her husband, Gasgon de Guise, summoned Cingar to his court for the duke to examine the truth of this claim. As the duke had never taken kindly to gypsies, Cingar knew it was a trap and yet could not resist such a challenge, for such occasions became the heart of legend and folklore. Cingar was also the captain of this band of gypsies, and where one member of the clan went, they all went.

‘So Cingar did bewitch the duchess,’ I presumed.

‘Completely,’ Chavi said, both proudly and ruefully. ‘In a fit of jealousy the duke had Cingar arrested.’

‘On what charge?’ I frowned, drawing a blank. Yet the answer was so obvious.

‘Heresy, of course.’ Chavi was surprised I hadn’t guessed. ‘The duke said that Cingar’s playing was beyond pure mortal talent and that he must have made a pact with the devil.’

I rolled my eyes as the charge was so typical of a jealous aristocrat. ‘Have we not come out of the Dark Ages yet?’

‘That is not the worst of it,’ Chavi continued. ‘The same night as my grandson was arrested, the duke’s son fell ill and de Guise accused us of cursing his boy. Our men were all seized by the duke’s soldiers and he has threatened to kill them all if his boy dies.’

‘So, why are your caravans on the road to Paris?’ I wondered.

Chavi smiled broadly, as if I should know why. ‘I was told by an anonymous spirit that I would find our saviour on the road from Paris to Sens.’

‘How long have you been waiting for me?’ I was hoping that the duke’s son had not died already.

‘We’ve just arrived after two days of travel.’ Chavi also appeared worried for the boy.

‘Then there is no time to waste.’ I stood and looked about at all the idle horses. ‘Give me a horse and a guide to Orleans and I shall bring your men back within the week.’ I looked at Albray to see what he thought, but all he did was wink in approval.

Chavi went into a trance, and then told me: ‘I believe it is the truth. Rumer.’ Chavi called for her grand-daughter, Cingar’s sister. ‘Prepare two horses and provisions. You shall ride with Miss Winston.’ Chavi winked at me and I wasn’t too sure if that was to set me at my ease, or to imply that she knew Winston was not my true name.

When I stopped to consider in more detail what I proposed to do, fear grew in my gut, and I looked at Albray who stood shaking his head at me.

Between your talents and my own, what is there that we cannot achieve?

I smiled, considering it a fair question. I
hope we are not about to find out.

Today was one of the most exciting days of my life.

It was like something straight out of one of Ashlee’s stories. I am so pleased to have thought to keep an account of our pursuit. My hope is that one day, when this whole mess is unravelled, Ashlee will be able to laugh at the merry chase that she led us on.

And I must comment at this point for your benefit, dear Ash, that every day I pass in the company of the Devere brothers, the more fond I become of them both. I fear you have too harshly judged your husband’s motives, for I have never seen a man so single-minded in his purpose. I see clearly how his mind is absorbed at every waking moment with thoughts of you; he will have no peace until we find you safe and well.

My husband, on the other hand, was just this morning in the foulest of moods and completely exasperated with the pursuit of you, dear sister.

There we were in a carriage, bowling along the road out of town, and we hadn’t seen any of Paris yet—you can just imagine what my lord thought of that!

‘I want to know why your wife is running from you, Earnest,’ James demanded. ‘I know there is something I’m not being told.’

Mr Devere and I looked at each other, at a loss as to where to start and wondering how much James needed to know, when another carriage passed us on its way back to Paris. It captured my brother’s interest immediately.

‘What is the matter, Mr Devere?’ I asked, as he was so preoccupied.

‘That was her coach,’ he claimed. In a rush for information, Mr Devere stuck his head out the window and ordered our coachman to turn us around with all speed and catch the coach that had just passed us by.

‘That’s a bit of a long shot, don’t you think?’ James was quite put out that we were doubling back for no good reason. ‘How could you know for sure that was our sister’s conveyance?’

‘Your brother’s instincts have proven excellent so far,’ I reasoned, as the carriage turned around. I served Mr Devere a look to let him know he had better be right about this.

‘I am absolutely certain,’ he stated.

Mr Devere later told me how it was that he could be so sure—the explanation started with yesterday.

We had traced Ashlee to her accommodation in Paris. Molier had cunningly asked his assistant to inform Mrs Devere—on the first day she was at the library—that, as a safety precaution for the holy archive, she was required to sign the guest book and give a contact address in Paris. The woman who had let the rooms to Ashlee had seen her leave in a carriage, but her tenant had left no clue as to where she was bound. Mr Devere kissed the lady’s hand in parting, and had extracted from the brief contact a precise image of the carriage in which Ashlee had left Paris.

It seems Devere’s talents had grown stronger since Ashlee’s departure, for rather than being weakened by her absence, each day he achieved some new marvel. So perhaps the true source of his power was not just the act of making love to Ashlee, but also the love she evoked in him.

Which brings me back to the excitement and drama of how we came to be in hot pursuit of another carriage.

‘Earnest, I demand that you stop goading our coachman. You’re endangering all our lives!’ Lord Devere put his foot down.