Trail of Fate Read Online Free PDF Page A

to leave and scout the surrounding countryside. Shall I go on?”
    Celia wouldn’t look at me. “How has a squire so young learned so much?” she asked.
    â€œFor the last year and half I have done nothing but study tactics and train for war. My knight, Sir Thomas, is . . . was . . . a brilliant military mind. He taught me everything. I have seen much.”
    She said nothing, but I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to let me in on her secret, whatever it might be.
    â€œCelia, please, maybe I can help you.”
    She laughed. “This is trouble you don’t want, squire.”
    â€œLet me be the judge of that.”
    â€œYou are a kind one, aren’t you?”
    Something about Celia made me want to tell her things about myself. Things I had never told anyone. It might have been her hair and how it framed her face, or the ice-blue pools of her eyes. Maybe it was the way the firelight danced across her smiling face, making her look mysterious and inviting all at the same time.
    These were things I had never noticed in anyone before. Except for the pleasant smell of Maryam’s hair and the beautiful sound of her laugh. Was something wrong with me? For some reason, the abbot’s face appeared in my head and I felt a sudden urge to pray. Celia was so close to me then. And she smelled like the abbey garden in springtime.
    â€œI hope so. I’d like to think I am, being raised by Cistercian monks. They were men of kindness. I hope I learned something from them,” I told her.
    She turned back to me, close enough that I could see her lovely face more clearly. “Raised by monks? What happened to your parents?”
    â€œNever knew them. I was left at the abbey as a babe.”
    â€œHow sad! It must be terrible not knowing who your family is.”
    I shrugged. “You can’t really miss what you’ve never had. It could have been worse. There was a roof over my head and food to eat. Many orphans have probably not met so kind a fate. Please stop trying to change the subject.”
    â€œDo you always put others before yourself, Templar? Is this a trait you learned at your abbey?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Her gaze traveled back to the fire, to study her people. “We are Cathars.”
    She looked at me expectantly to see what effect her words had on me. But I had no idea what a Cathar was. She went on.
    â€œWe live not far from here, in the mountain towns of the Pyrenees. My father is the bishop of our canton. I think you English might call it a county. Cathars are no friends to the church. We believe in tolerance of other religions and that all the trappings of the church are . . . irrelevant and only get in the way of a true connection with God. Still, despite our objections to how the church is run, we have lived in peace for many years, but now, things are different. We allow anyone to worship as they please, but your Pope has a much dimmer view of Catharism,” she said.
    Having lived in a monastery most of my life, I knew the Bible somewhat, but I was no religious scholar. For a time, I had a natural curiosity about the monks and their unwavering allegiance to God. But I had never felt the pull of their devotion. I prayed. I believed. But I did not know what to say to Celia, not understanding very much of what she said.
    â€œSo because the Pope is angry with your people, you are hiding here in the woods?”
    Celia laughed.
    â€œNo, Templar. We are not hiding. My father sent me to counsel with emissaries of the Archbishop of Languedoc while he travels to Paris to seek an audience with King Philip. Our message grows. We have more followers now. This upsets your Pope. The archbishop demanded our presence before him immediately. My father cares little for what the archbishop demands, but also knows he can be a powerful enemy. Since Father could not be in two places at once, he sent me to Narbonne in his stead. He wanted me to