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High Counsel and his fifty men rode into the village, reining their horses up at the well. Angel whined, and I cracked open the door. She darted inside.
    â€œTrouble,” I said to Maryam. She joined me at the window and gasped.
    â€œWhat are we going to do?” she asked.
    By then the woman had joined us at the window. She looked out at the High Counsel and his troop, some of whom had dismounted and were standing about looking menacing. The arrival had cleared the village, as the women we had seen earlier at the well had vanished and the blacksmith had made himself scarce.
    The woman muttered something in French under her breath that I didn’t quite catch but was fairly certain was a curse. She vanished behind the curtain.
    â€œIt looks like the High Counsel has uncovered my deception. They must be headed toward Celia’s fortress. We need to get out of here. I don’t suppose you have any ideas, do you?” I asked.
    Maryam shook her head and continued to study the scene at the well. “No. You’re the one with the ideas ,” she said smugly.
    Angel whined nervously, and to quiet her I tossed her the small chunk of cheese I still held in my hand. She snatched it out of the air and swallowed it whole.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “Maybe we can sneak out the back and . . .”
    Just then the woman pulled back the curtain from the back room and waved to us.
    We followed and found another room, nearly equal in size to the one we’d been eating in but with a back entrance. The wooden door swung open, and there stood a boy about ten or twelve years old, waiting next to a small wagon with a pony hitched to it. The back of the wagon was full of hay.
    â€œHide. Go,” said the woman in accented English.
    â€œTristan? What is she . . . ?” Maryam asked, but she stopped, not understanding completely what was happening.
    But I did. Or at least I thought I did. Since we had left the campsite, without really knowing how far we needed to travel to reach Celia, I’d had a feeling we were at least getting close to her lands. And judging by this woman’s reaction when she saw the High Counsel, I decided to test my assumption.
    â€œCathar?” I said to the woman.
    She nodded and smiled. She pushed a small cloth bag into my hands, holding it open. It was full of bread, cheese and apples.
    â€œMontségur. Celia. Ami, ” I said, pointing to myself.
    The woman nodded and smiled. I felt a brief sense of relief, despite the High Counsel’s arrival. We were on the right trail and headed toward Montségur.
    â€œHide. Now,” she said.
    â€œCome on, Maryam,” I said.
    I climbed up into the bed of the wagon. Maryam joined me. Angel looked at me with her head cocked.
    â€œHurry, girl,” I said.
    She jumped up. The boy and the woman covered us with the hay. Then I heard the lad whistle and the wagon moved. We rolled around the side of the small inn and bounced over the bumpy ground. The ride smoothed out a little when we reached the trail leading out of town.
    I carefully reached up and cleared a small section of hay out of the way so I could see the village crossroads as we left. The High Counsel stood there, still talking to one of his soldiers in the street. The boy kept a casual pace with the wagon, not drawing attention to himself. He was just a simple farm boy completing one of his many chores.
    We were almost out of sight of the village when I heard a cracking sound and the wagon lurched to a stop. It tilted crazily to the side, and Maryam and I grunted sharply as it hit the ground. The boy muttered a curse, and I assumed the wagon’s axle had broken or the wheel had come loose. Angel whimpered, and I grabbed her about the muzzle. The hay had settled with the fall, and I gently cleared another space to look back at the village.
    As I watched them in the distance, nearly two hundred yards away, the High Counsel and his men mounted up, steered