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Brittany, in hopes I might pick up some trace of him-but I never did. And I nearly got caught myself, the last time I tried-which is how I got my shoulder hurt. "I did have separate inquiries made at the places where other Templars are being held," he added, ?nally glancing at Arnault, "but there's nae sign of him. Which means that he's likely killed, rather than captured." "It also means," Christoph said, when Flannan did not continue, "that the Breastplate may have fallen into the hands of our enemies." Silence followed this declaration. The Templars looked thunderstruck, to a man. It was Ninian who ?nally spoke. "There may be a way to at least ?nd out." All eyes turned toward the Columban brother as he left Flannan and came over to the table. "The Breastplate is linked to the Stone of Destiny, yes?" Ninian said, standing with a hand on Arnault's shoulder. "Of course." "And though we do not have the Breastplate, we do have the Stone." All of the Templars exchanged puzzled glances as they nodded. "It is also, true-is it not?-that a mystical bond will have been forged between the Stone and those who presided at Bruce's enthronement upon it," Ninian went on. "Of those present both then and now, besides myself, that would be Bishop Matthew and Brothers Arnault, Torquil, and Luc. And Brother Gaspar was present, as well." Those named glanced uncertainly among themselves. "Brother Ninian," Christoph said softly, "what are you suggesting?" With a faint smile, Ninian swept his arm in a gesture for all of them to rise. "I think it might be best if all of us adjourned to the premises of the Stone. I shall explain when we are there," he added, holding up a hand to silence the questions that started to erupt. "Brother Matthew, perhaps you would go ?rst, to make certain the way is clear. We shall follow in twos and threes." A quarter hour later, all of them had made their way to the narrow crypt beneath the cathedral, converging on a small chapel beneath the east end, where the Stone now resided. The air was redolent with the scent of cinnamon, sandalwood, and the beeswax of the candles some of the brethren were lighting in the trefoil sconces set along the walls. Once again, the junior Aubrey was set to keep watch at Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html the door. The Stone itself lay beneath an altar made of wood, set over it like an overturned box and dressed with fair linens, silver candlesticks, and a cross carved with Celtic interlace. These Ninian bade them remove before directing four of the Templars to lift away the altar shell and move it into the undercroft, exposing the Stone to their view. Not speaking, Brother Ninian knelt beside the Stone and lightly laid his hand upon it, head bowed for several sec onds, then rose and glanced around him. "Brother Arnault, would you please sit on the Stone?" The presumption took Arnault aback. "I dare not. That is not my place," he began. "It is the place of him who serves the Stone and its king," Ninian said calmly. "Such a man must dare, if he would work with the Stone to search for Brother Gaspar, wherever he may be, among the living or the dead. If the latter, you will need its power and protection." Arnault felt his pulsebeat booming in his ears, making him feel a little light-headed as he glanced among the others, but not even Bishop Crambeth appeared to doubt that the request must be honored. The Bishop of Dunkeld, though neither of le Cercle nor even of the Temple, was proving to be a man of steady nerve and no little faith. Not speaking, Arnault unbuckled his sword and handed it to Torquil, who wrapped its belt around the scabbard before laying it aside behind them. He drew a fortifying breath and let it out before seating himself gingerly upon the Stone, where Bruce had sat. Lightning did not smite him, and the Stone did not strike him dead. Relieved, he took another deep breath, though he could not say he was as con?dent as he might have been, had he known what to expect. But he trusted the Columban implicitly-which was a good thing, because Ninian seemed to be inventing this as they went along. At Ninian's direction, Bishop Crambeth came to stand behind him, providing a back to lean against, steadying hands set on his shoulders. Torquil and Luc came to stand to either side-for all three had been present on that night, in addition to Arnault and the missing Gaspar. Arnault could fathom the reasoning behind the arrangement, and that was reassuring. Ninian was rummaging for something in a waist pouch as the rest came to kneel around the Stone in a semicircle, expectant faces upturned. "Let us begin our work," Ninian said softly, lifting his closed right hand before and above Arnault's eyes, perhaps a handspan away. "In the name of our blessed Columba and Cra-gheal, the Red-White One, I ask you to commend yourself to their protection and to the Grace of the Three, and to gaze upon this stone, from the shores of the Holy Island of Iona." He opened his hand to display a sea-polished pebble the size of a seagull egg. "And as you gaze upon it, dear brother, I ask you to focus all of your heart and soul and mind upon that one, all-encompassing task of these next few moments, where time has no meaning." Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Arnault gladly obeyed, ?xing his gaze on the sea pebble and letting himself drift with Ninian's voice, a part of him reconnecting with the peace and serenity of life on Iona with the gentle Columbans and their saint. "Make yourself one with the Stone on which you sit," Ninian went on, "wherein resides the Sovereignty of this Land, and the hallowing of its king, whom you serve.and who serves the Land, and the Lord of that Land and of its king, and the building of His Fifth Temple, which shall be built not with human hands but with the love and the will of those who serve God and His creation." Ninian's voice seemed to ebb and ?ow like the tides, gently submerging Arnault in the embracing warmth of a pool of sound and taking him into a detached, ?oating space where only the pebble and the voice remained. As the pebble slowly began moving downward, Arnault's eyes followed without resistance, consciousness likewise descending into ever-deeper realms of receptivity and awareness. By the time the pebble touched his open hand, his eyes had closed and he had surrendered utterly to the peacefulness in which he was enfolded. Only the faintest thread of Ninian's voice remained outside of that centered expectation into which he had descended, gently nudging him now toward the task set before him. "Your brother Gaspar is linked to the Stone as you are," Ninian whispered. "Reach out for him. Call to him. See the place where he now dwells." At that bidding, Arnault found himself standing in spirit before a heavy door set deep within a rounded arch. The door stood slightly ajar. Slowly, hesitantly, he pushed it open and stepped through. Beyond lay a chapel, lofty and full of light. The far wall was pierced by a sun-?ooded window like a jeweled ?ower, before which stood an alabaster statue of the Blessed Virgin, crowned with roses still kissed by the morning dew. Bright lancet windows cut the walls to either side, throwing swaths of rainbow light that intersected in midair like a pair of crossed swords. Beneath this crossing of light, a white-cloaked ?gure in Templar livery knelt in an attitude of adoration, bearded face upturned toward the Virgin, amid a hush so profound that all nature seemed to hold its [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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