Timeline - Michael Crichton [89]
“Indeed. I spoke to him.”
“Oh?”
“With the Abbot gone, I sought him out. For they say the Magister has befriended the Abbot, these recent days.”
Chris Hughes was struggling to follow this conversation, and he realized belatedly that they were talking about the Professor. He said, “Magister?”
Claire said, “Do you know the Magister? Edward de Johnes?”
He immediately backpedaled. “Uh . . . no . . . no, I don’t, and—”
At this, Sir Daniel stared at Chris in open astonishment. He turned to Claire. “What does he say?”
“He says he does not know the Magister.”
The old man remained astonished. “In what tongue?”
“A kind of English, Sir Daniel, with some Gaelic, so I believe.”
“No Gaelic as I have ever heard,” he said. He turned to Chris. “Speak you la Langue-doc? No? Loquerisquide Latine?”
He was asking if he spoke Latin. Chris had an academic knowledge of Latin, a reading knowledge. He’d never tried to speak it. Faltering, he said, “Non, Senior Danielis, solum perpaululum. Perdoleo.” Only a little. Sorry.
“Per, per . . . dicendo ille Ciceroni persimilis est.” He speaks like Cicero.
“Perdoleo.” Sorry.
“Then you may profitably be silent.” The old man turned back to Claire. “What did the Magister say to you?”
“He could not assist me.”
“Did he know the secret we seek?”
“He said he did not.”
“But the Abbot knows,” said Sir Daniel. “The Abbot must know. It was his predecessor, the Bishop of Laon, who served as architect for the last repairs of La Roque.”
Claire said, “The Magister said that Laon was not the architect.”
“No?” Sir Daniel frowned. “And how does the Magister know that?”
“I believe the Abbot told him. Or perhaps he saw it among the old papers. The Magister has undertaken to sort and arrange the parchments of Sainte-Mère, for the benefit of the monks.”
“Does he,” Sir Daniel said thoughtfully. “I wonder why.”
“I had no time to ask before Lord Oliver’s men broke sanctuary.”
“Well, the Magister will be here soon enough,” Sir Daniel said. “And Lord Oliver himself will ask these questions. . ..” He frowned, clearly unhappy at this thought.
The old man turned abruptly to a young boy of nine or ten, standing behind him. “Take Squire Christopher to my chamber, where he may bathe and clean himself.”
At this, Claire shot the old man a hard look. “Uncle, do not thwart my plans.”
“Have I ever done so?”
“You know that you have tried.”
“Dear child,” he said, “my sole concern is ever for your safety—and your honor.”
“And my honor, Uncle, is not yet pledged.” With that, Claire walked boldly up to Chris, put her hand around his neck, and looked into his eyes. “I shall count every moment you are gone, and miss you with all my heart,” she said softly, her eyes liquid. “Return to me soon.”
She brushed her lips lightly across his mouth, and stepped back, releasing him reluctantly, fingers trailing away from his neck. He felt dazed, staring into her eyes, seeing how beautiful—
Sir Daniel coughed, turned to the boy. “See to Squire Christopher, and assist him in his bath.”
The boy bowed to Chris. Everyone in the room was silent. This was apparently his cue to leave. He nodded, and said, “I thank you.” He waited for the astonished looks, but for once, there were none; they seemed to understand what he had said. Sir Daniel gave him a frosty nod, and Chris left the room.
34:25:54
The horses clattered across the drawbridge. The Professor stared straight ahead, ignoring the soldiers who escorted him. The guards at the castle gate barely glanced up as the riders entered the castle. Then the Professor was gone from sight.
Standing near the drawbridge, Kate said, “What do we do now? Do we follow him?”
Marek didn’t answer