Iacobus by Matilde Asensi Page B

may ask me for whatever you wish’, and he replies ‘Your golden horn’, and the King gives it to him. Now, without realizing it, he has become isolated and is ready to fall into the trap. He races after the deer, and in the same spot where he was later found on the ground, he losses it from sight again. He stops there, attentive, motionless and alone … completely alone. And then he hears a sound, the crunching of leaves, and quickly turns around to look, and what does he see? Ahh …! This is my guess. He sees the docile and domesticated animal as motionless as he, and so close that he can almost hear it breathing, showing him his enormous miraculous antlers in the center of which he can see a large wooden cross, probably shining in the sun thanks to a good coat of varnish. The King becomes afraid, he backs up his horse and the curse of Molay, which he hasn’t managed to forget, comes to mind (remember that he was the last of the three to die, so he must have been deadly afraid, awaiting his time). All of a sudden he feels sick. He wants to call his hunting companions but his hand doesn’t find the horn in his belt. He had given it to the peasant. And that was the last thing that crossed his mind. A strong blow to the head throws him off his horse (don’t forget that the only sign of violence that the doctors found was on the back of his head, on the base of his skull, which confirms that the attack came from a person who was standing on the ground), he falls and begins to rave: ‘The cross, the cross ….’ Auguste and Felix quickly recover their staffs, disassemble the false antlers, and free the animal. Maybe they ran up the hill to bury the antlers so that when the King was found later on, they were seen coming from that area.”
    “But they were asked if they had seen anything.”
    “And I’m sure they answered very naturally that they had only seen how the King was attacked by the deer and how he fell to the ground, and that, although they shouted to warn the retinue, it was impossible for them to be heard because of the distance.”
    “We should examine the scene where the King was found.”
    “What for? After three years, Jonas, there won’t be anything left there. And anyway, the undergrowth will have covered any tracks, although I doubt that our friends left any.”
    “Perhaps,” he admitted, not very convinced. “Look, here comes a carriage!”
    Beatrice of Hirson’s phaeton quietly approached the Louvre like a sinister shadow in the night, with a small lantern swaying up front. The driver stopped the horses in front of us and I discreetly approached the window in the door which didn’t have any shield or badge to identify the owner. Without leaning in, I whispered, “My Lady Beatrice of Hirson?”
    “Get in.”
    As soon as Jonas and I had made ourselves comfortable, the carriage started to move again. Two women were waiting for us inside: One, the better dressed, with her face hidden behind the large hood of a cloak, was without a doubt the woman we wished to see. The other, a young lady who looked slightly like a servant, remained silent and intimidated next to her mistress in the corner of her seat.
    “I would like to apologize for the obvious worry I have caused you,” I greeted her. “You mustn’t be afraid of me, my lady; I would never put you in danger.”
    “I don’t know whether to believe you, Sir Born; the way in which your young friend gave me the letter was not the most appropriate. I have had to tell many lies to my Lady Matilda of Artois.”
    “I’m sorry. We couldn’t find another way.”
    Only three lights remained lit in Paris overnight; the one in the cemetery of the Innocents, in the Tower of Nesle and in the Grand Châtelet. Just then we passed by one of them, or another that was coincidently lit that night, and I could admire the face of Beatrice of Hirson. She was an older woman, about forty, although still very beautiful. Her eyes, a deep navy blue, had,