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don’t have to see them. So, he’s hollering, and the two brothers are searching him and yelling, ‘Where is it?’ and then the Bishop comes in and yells at them to stop, and they drop the priest on his head because they had finished searching him and whatever they were looking for, he didn’t have it. So, the priest gets back up and dusts himself off, then he looks at the Bishop and shakes his head, and that sets the brothers off again, and they start shoving the priest around, and the Bishop is shouting at them to stop, and that’s when things got out of hand and spilled out of the house.”
    â€œSo the Bishop was creating a diversion for his holy burglar,” I mused. “Nice plan, thwarted by a pesky little apprentice fool. Did you get a good look at the drawer where this mysterious book came from?”
    â€œOf course,” she said proudly. “It was a small drawer, and it had a lock on it.”
    â€œBut it was open,” I said.
    â€œYes, and it didn’t look forced,” she said.
    â€œEither someone picked the lock, or someone had a key,” said Claudia. “Would Borsella’s keykeeper have one?”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. “But for a desk drawer in his private office? That sounds like something Borsella would keep to himself.”
    â€œThat could be what he was killed for,” said Claudia. “To get the key to get the book.”
    â€œThe key for the book, and the book is the key,” I agreed. “But the key to what? And why would the Bishop want to steal the book? If it contained a record of his debt to Borsella, then stealing the book wouldn’t erase the debt. And most debts, while embarrassing, are not worth killing for.”
    â€œEven for a bishop?” asked Helga.
    â€œEspecially for a bishop,” I said.
    *   *   *
    We got up at the unfoolish dawn so that we could get decent seats at the assizes. For all that, there was a good-sized crowd of the curious and the unoccupied waiting at the gates of the Château Narbonnais. A guard let them in in groups of ten, his lips moving as he counted.
    The château was actually a group of connected buildings, holding the courts, the consulate, and the Count’s residence. Three towers dominated the rest of the complex. The Tower of the Eagle and the Round Tower flanked the gate through which we passed, while the Grand Tower, presumably the bastion of last resort, was set back in the interior. Crenelated walls, maybe twenty-five feet in height, enclosed the rest.
    â€œWhat’s interesting about this place is that it seems intended more to withstand an attack from within the city than it is to defend it from without,” I observed. “That says something for the confidence of the counts over the years.”
    â€œSome of those walls look ancient,” said Claudia.
    â€œThey say one section goes back to when Julius Caesar conquered Gaul,” I said.
    â€œHe should have stayed here,” said Claudia. “It’s much nicer than Rome.”
    The Palace of Justice contained both the courts of assizes and appeals. The benches in the courtroom were set up rectangularly so that everyone was faced toward the center of the room. A coffin holding the late Milon Borsella rested on a pair of trestles.
    Jordan was already inside, and waved us over to a section of empty bench beside him. We squeezed in, Helga sitting on my lap.
    â€œThanks,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    â€œIt’s the major gossip in town,” he said. “I need to keep up. Besides, you’ve aroused my curiosity. Look, there’s Calvet coming in. Ah, and there’s the family. We should be starting soon.”
    The Borsella brothers entered, the widow Béatrix between them. She was in black and veiled, leaning on Bonet for support. We all stood in respect until they sat down on a front bench directly by the coffin.