The Devil's Cup Page 26

  He paused, clearing his throat. Meggie got up and, pouring wine into a cup, handed it to him. He murmured his thanks and drank a few sips.

  ‘We – or, I should say, my mother – knew that the last portion of the treasure had gone into the manufacture of an object made to the order of one of the Frankish knights of Jerusalem, a man who came from the Lusignan family. Like most noble families who traced their rise to power and wealth to the early tenth century, the Lusignans of Poitou included both the good and the bad. Hugh II Carus, called the Kind, built the castle at Lusignan, but one of his successors, Hugh IV Brunus, was a hectic, turbulent lord who made up his mind that his family were too good to be small-time lords and needed a bigger stage. It was he who began his family’s rise to prominence, first in Europe and then in Outremer. He was followed by Hugh V the Fair and Pious, and he by Hugh VI the Devil, whose nickname speaks for itself. He threw himself into the First Crusade, and his reputation was dark. He wanted to look like the important lord he knew himself to be, and the wealth and luxury of his household in the East grew rapidly. He purchased locally made luxury items, their cost and quality increasing as his wealth grew.’

  He paused to sip more wine. Josse, glancing at Helewise, was about to speak – to make some comment about the Crusades being violent times – but she shook her head.

  ‘Hugh the Devil commissioned the manufacture of a very beautiful silver chalice decorated with opals,’ Faruq went on. ‘Both the milk-white sort whose depths include flashes of vivid colour, and the brilliant orange fire opals. But the beautiful cup was not for Hugh the Devil’s personal use. In fact, the very opposite was true, for the cup was dangerous.’

  ‘But I have—’ Josse began.

  ‘Let him finish, Josse,’ Helewise said quietly. He met her eyes, and she sent him a loving smile.

  ‘In time,’ Faruq said, ‘Hugh the Devil’s descendants abandoned their rich and profitable lands in Outremer and returned to Lusignan, and he took the silver cup with him. We can’t say for certain, but it seems likely that, being both beautiful to look at and a highly efficient and subtle weapon, Hugh kept it close and, when he sensed death was near, made sure to pass it on to his heir. With a full and very careful account of what it could do,’ he added grimly.

  Josse couldn’t contain himself any longer. ‘And this cup was what you and your mother came here to find?’

  ‘It was,’ Faruq said calmly.

  ‘And you … but you …’ He took a breath and began again. ‘You’d better tell us, I think.’

  Faruq smiled faintly. ‘My mother and I landed in Marseilles, and we proceeded north into the Lusignan lands. We found it relatively easy to make our enquiries, for one or two of the Lusignan family had intermarried with people of our race and we were welcomed as compatriots in a foreign land. Nobody suspected our true purpose, and in the end it was simply a matter of asking about the Devil’s Cup. But it was no longer there.’

  ‘Where had it gone?’ Geoffroi asked. Josse looked at him. Of all of them, Geoffroi knew the least, and Josse well understood his puzzled expression.

  Faruq turned to him. ‘I know where it went although not why,’ he said.

  ‘I believe I can help,’ Helewise said. She shot a sympathetic glance at Faruq. ‘Your mother spoke at length to me before she died. She was all too well aware that she had kept much of the tale from you, and she told it to me in the expectation that I would pass it on to you.’ She hesitated, and Josse had the impression she was collecting her thoughts.

  ‘More than a century after Hugh VI acquired his cup, his successor Hugh IX le Brun became betrothed to Isabella of Angoulême, the young daughter of Count Aymar Taillefer. But she was stolen away from her bridegroom by John of England, newly crowned and in search of a new and more exciting wife. It was an outrageous act and ultimately an unwise one, for by his action John had aroused the fury of two powerful families, the Lusignans and the counts of Angoulême, and they united in enmity towards him.’

  ‘As if he didn’t have enough enemies already,’ Josse observed softly.

  ‘But what happened to the Devil’s Cup?’ Geoffroi persisted.

  ‘I will explain as well as I can,’ Helewise said, ‘although much of what I say is but Hadil’s conjecture.’ She paused. ‘We do know that somehow the Devil’s Cup travelled from Poitou to England, and it was Hadil’s suggestion that somebody in one of those two wealthy, influential and tetchy families – it was probably one of the Lusignans, who were said to have felt King John’s insult the more keenly – decided to take revenge. He – or perhaps she – managed to add one more precious and glittering item to the vast array of gifts included in Isabella’s baggage train when she set off for married life with her new bridegroom.’

  ‘The Devil’s Cup,’ breathed Geoffroi.

  Josse was looking at Faruq in admiration. ‘Your mother discovered all this?’

  ‘Obviously, yes,’ Faruq said. He smiled. ‘She was a clever woman, and also an extremely determined one. She took her responsibility very seriously.’

  ‘So Queen Isabella had the cup, you’re saying.’ Meggie was frowning. ‘Did she know what it was? What it could do?’

  Helewise spread her hands. ‘Who can say? Hadil did not wish to give a definite opinion, although she pointed out that the cup had been in the family of her former fiancé for a long time, so perhaps she had heard tell of it.’

  Meggie was silent for a few moments, still frowning, obviously thinking. Then she said slowly, ‘The Queen comes across this beautiful, dangerous object that one of the family she was meant to have married into has so thoughtfully put in with her vast array of wedding presents. Why did they do that? Did they want to harm her as a punishment for marrying John instead of Hugh?’

  ‘I should not think that is likely,’ Faruq replied, ‘for everyone would have known that girls have no say in the choice of their bridegroom.’ His eyes were fixed on Meggie’s, and Josse, watching intently, sensed a power of some sort between them. Interesting, he thought.

  Meggie grinned. ‘Go on, then. Tell us what you do think is likely.’

  Faruq returned her smile. ‘I would rather defer to the lady here’ – he indicated Helewise – ‘so that she may voice my mother’s thoughts.’

  ‘I will,’ Helewise said. ‘Hadil told me that she had originally believed that Isabella had no idea what she had been given, and what it could do. From all we are told, anyway, she did not object to being married to John of England and, as a newly wedded wife and – after a few years – a mother too, she would have had no need of the Devil’s Cup anyway. No doubt it was relegated to the back of the cupboard and, for a long time, overlooked.’

  She turned to Faruq. ‘So you and Hadil came on to England from Poitou,’ she said, ‘very anxious because you believed Queen Isabella was in danger, and hoping that by finding the Queen you would also find and be able to destroy the Devil’s Cup.’

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Faruq said politely. ‘That was about all I knew. But it wasn’t with her, at Corfe Castle. I asked, and I was told it had probably been sent off with all the other luxury household objects in the King’s baggage.’

  ‘But if she did know, did she …?’ Geoffroi began. But, as if the thought was too dreadful to voice, he stopped.

  ‘Did she, knowing what the Devil’s Cup could do, deliberately make sure it was packed among his luggage?’ Josse said it for him. With a snort of anger he added, ‘Little good it did her, for it was silver and he was used to gold. He told me himself how much he treasured his gold cup, which had been a present from his mother when …’

  Suddenly he stopped.

  Nobody said a word.

  ‘But he lost his precious gold cup when the wagon was overturned in the water,’ he said.

  The silence extended. Josse, looking round at the semi-circle of faces, wondered if they were all asking themselves the same questions he was.

  Did Isabella know what the Devil’s Cup could do?

  Did she really wan
t to kill him?

  But to make such accusations would be treason, he thought. Isabella was no longer Queen, but she was mother to the new King.

  Just in case any of these people he cared for so deeply might be having any ideas about justice, he said very quietly, ‘All that we have just said remains here, within these four walls. Each of you must give me your most solemn word never to speak of it to anyone else.’

  One by one they all did as he commanded.

  Not one of them needed to ask why.

  And Josse thought, This is not the moment to raise that dreadful suspicion, even if doing so wasn’t so dangerous to my family. Now that John is gone – he felt the familiar stab of pain – it is everyone’s task to ensure that the transference of power is effected as calmly and swiftly as possible.

  It was likely, he reflected, that the French invasion would quickly fizzle out. The barons had no argument with John’s heir, and surely they too would want peace restored and Louis gone. Without their support, Louis would very soon see there was no future in staying.

  There will be peace under the new king, Josse thought. Perhaps there would even be certainty and prosperity, which was more than his father managed. Was it really the time to upset the fragile promise of the new regime with a terrible accusation based on nothing more than an ancient legend and a lot of speculation?

  No. It wasn’t.

  After some time Josse emerged from his reverie. Glancing at Meggie, he said, ‘I think that the moment has come for us all to see it, don’t you?’

  She spun round to stare at him. ‘How do you know we’ve got it?’

  ‘I didn’t until a short while ago. But when Faruq described the cup, I was about to say that I’d seen it, only Helewise interrupted.’ He turned to Helewise and gave her a smile. ‘I noticed that Faruq instinctively put a hand down to that pack, lying on the floor beside him, and I guessed.’

  ‘It is there, yes,’ Faruq said. He unfastened the pack and extracted something wrapped in white cloth. He unwrapped it and, following Josse’s pointing hand, put it down on the edge of the hearth where they could all see it.

  ‘You went back for it, Meggie?’ Josse asked. ‘You risked so much?’

  She must have detected the reproach in his voice. Spinning round to meet his eyes, she said, ‘Yes. Perhaps it was stupid, and it’s true that the penalty for being caught stealing it, or even with it in my possession, would have been severe.’

  ‘They’d have hanged you, and him too, probably.’ Josse glared at Faruq.

  ‘Don’t blame him, Father, it was entirely my idea,’ Meggie said sharply. ‘And, as to why I was prepared to take the risk, it was because I didn’t know why the King was dead.’

  ‘Because he had dysentery!’ Josse shouted. ‘He’d been ill for days, and exhausted, and so many men had turned against him, and …’ He found he couldn’t go on. He dropped his face in his hands.

  He sensed someone beside him. He felt his daughter’s soft hair brush his hands and she said, so softly that he thought he was probably the only one to hear, ‘I know you grieve for him, Father. You’re not the only one, I promise you.’

  Still perched on the arm of his chair, she straightened up and said, ‘I’m not claiming to have an infallible cure for dysentery, but the various remedies I gave to the King ought to have afforded at least some relief. Instead, his condition became worse and worse, and I had to accept that he was dying before my eyes, despite everything I had done.’

  ‘You’re sure that’s not just your pride as a healer speaking?’ Geoffroi asked. Josse, wondering if she would take offence, realized immediately that she must have heard the earnest honesty behind the question.

  ‘I did wonder, but I’m pretty sure it’s not,’ she said. ‘But, anyway, I just had to know. I’d seen him drinking from that silver cup. He didn’t eat, he didn’t drink much, and that was the only vessel that he used. So, after he died and when everyone was racing round like ants in a ruined anthill, I went back and took it.’

  She got up and walked over to the hearth. Looking up, she nodded at Faruq, and he passed her a jug of water. Slowly, carefully, she poured some into the cup. ‘This is good, fresh water,’ she said, ‘and all of us have been drinking from the jug.’ She paused, then added softly, ‘What happens next must therefore be caused by the silver cup.’

  Then she reached inside the bodice of her gown and took out the Eye of Jerusalem.

  Josse gave a soft gasp. It had been a long time since he’d seen it, and he had forgotten how lovely it was; how it caught the firelight, reflecting pools of bright blue into the air.

  He watched – they all watched – as Meggie lowered the stone into the cup.

  For a moment, nothing happened. ‘Wait,’ Meggie said softly.

  Then a thin wisp of yellowish smoke rose up from the surface of the water.

  Meggie lowered the Eye further under the surface.

  Now the water was bubbling gently, like a pan of liquid coming to the boil. And the wisp of smoke had become an acrid, dense little cloud, and it stank of rot; of brimstone; of cunning and betrayal; of the worst of violence; of evil, deadly things.

  A quiet voice – Geoffroi’s – said in a tone of utter horror, ‘Oh, dear God, save us!’

  Josse stepped closer to him and briefly touched his shoulder. ‘Steady, son.’

  Geoffroi pulled away. ‘But it’s foul, awful!’ He stared around at them with frantic eyes. ‘Can’t you sense it too? Something’s come into the room, something dark and horrible – oh, stop it, stop it!’

  Josse said, ‘Enough,’ and Meggie took the stone out of the water.

  The poisonous little cloud was already beginning to disperse, and the mood of despair was lifting.

  Geoffroi, embarrassed by his terror, hung his head.

  But Helewise said, ‘Dear Geoffroi, you only expressed what all of us were sensing, and there is no need to feel ashamed.’ Raising her eyes to look at each of them in turn, she went on, ‘There is a reason for our reaction and, if I may, I shall explain.’ She paused, and her glance lingered on Josse. He nodded for her to go on.

  ‘Hadil told me why it was that she and you, Faruq, and your predecessors were willing to give their lives to retrieve every last object containing elements of the treasure that the rogue Knight Hospitaller had unearthed in the potter’s field in Jerusalem, and that the father of the girl he had raped had stolen from his corpse.’ She was watching Faruq closely. ‘You know this?’ she asked quietly. Very briefly he nodded. Then it was his turn to hang his head.

  ‘Some might say that it can be no more than a legend,’ Helewise continued, looking at Faruq with compassion, ‘but then legends can sometimes be based upon fact. This legend was persistent, and the events that attached themselves to it over the years served to suggest it just might have contained an element of truth.’ She paused, and Josse had the impression she was nerving herself to go on.

  ‘Just before she died, Hadil told me about the origins of the treasure that made up a substantial part of the Devil’s Cup, and where they believed it had come from.’ Once again she stopped, this time reaching out a hand to Josse. He took it and instantly she clasped it so hard that he winced.

  Then, her voice quite steady, she said, ‘What the rogue Hospitaller dug up was the bag of coins given in payment to Judas for the betrayal of Christ.’

  And on the hearth, the quiet flames reflecting in its smooth silver sides and making sparks of fire in its rich jewels, the Devil’s Cup stood, its terrible power hidden, nothing more than a beautiful, precious object.

  One by one, all of them drifted out of the hall and into the fresh air. The foul yellow cloud had long dissipated, but it was as if some lingering, faint smell was still there. As Josse left, he made sure to prop the door wide open to air the hall.

  Helewise sought out Faruq. She said, ‘There is one further thing I must tell you, for I promised your mother that I would.’ She glanced at Meggie, standing at his side. ‘It’s … er, it
’s quite a personal matter.’

  Faruq smiled. ‘I would prefer Meggie to hear too,’ he said. ‘We have been through much together, and I have learned that I can trust her.’

  ‘Very well.’ Helewise drew a breath, for what she had to tell him was not easy. ‘You believe, or so I understand it, that your great-great grandparents were Fadila and Zahir, who married her when she grew to maturity despite her earlier, dreadful experience.’

  ‘Yes, that is quite right.’

  She knew just by looking at his face that he had no idea what she was about to say. She gathered her courage and went on.

  ‘Your mother told me that she had one last secret, and, although she had thought to take it to the grave with her, in the end she found she could not bear the thought of you, her beloved son, not knowing the truth.’

  ‘Go on.’ His tone was terse.

  ‘Faruq, you have been led to believe that your great-great grandmother was little more than a child when the Hospitaller raped her, but I’m afraid that is not quite true. She was on the point of becoming a woman, and the rape took place just as she was becoming fertile. She conceived a child by that evil man, and that child was your great-grandmother Basma. She was, your mother told me, eight years older than her half-brothers and sisters.’

  Faruq’s face was stony. He said through white lips, ‘I had no idea of this.’

  ‘Yes, so your mother said, and she told me to tell you how very sorry she was to have to break it to you.’

  A strange expression was spreading over Faruq’s handsome face. ‘I have his blood in my veins,’ he said in a voice of deep repugnance. ‘That vile, evil man, who raped a child, is my ancestor.’

  ‘Nobody has any control over their forebears,’ Helewise said firmly. ‘Your mother knew you would react in this way and she told me to say that she too had her time of revulsion and rejection of her own history. She overcame it, however, and so must you.’ She moved closer to him, and his distress was palpable. ‘This does not change you, Faruq, for you have always been the person you are now, with the forebears you now know you have.’