Free The Cana Mystery by David Beckett

confess?”
    “Forgive us, Father.”
    Smiling, Bessarion gazed out across the sand toward the ever more distant dust cloud. “Farewell,” he whispered.

Chapter 6
    6
    P ARIS, 1462
    King Louis XI was pleased by the emissaries’ report. His young spy in the Vatican had served France ably.
    “How did he corrupt the prophecy?” Louis asked his minister.
    “Sire, the scribe deleted several stanzas and altered others. The true prophecy predicts failure for the pope’s crusade. It foretells that Pius shall fall in Ancona, bereft of allies, to rest in an unmarked grave. These fatal details we have, by our conspiracy, excluded.”
    A smile flickered across the monarch’s features. “Was his Holiness deceived?”
    “Yes, Majesty. We believe so. He ordered our version of the prophecy read aloud at Mantua. He dispatched couriers to the East and revised his strategy on the basis of the false predictions.”
    “Good.” The king harbored much resentment against Pope Pius II. Upon taking the throne, Louis had withdrawn royal sanctions issued by his father, Charles VII. These sanctions had curtailed papal influence in France. In return, Louis had expected the pontiff to support French interests in Naples. “But I was betrayed,” the monarch thought angrily. “And for that, the Church will pay!”
    “What else has been done?”
    “Highness, we altered several lines of translation to suggest that if Pius II personally takes the cross, he can free Constantinople.”
    “But the prophecy does not presage success against the Turks?”
    “Just the opposite, sire. The prophecy foretells that Mehmed will survive a night attack and never convert to the True Faith. It says the sultan’s capital will not fall to Rome.”
    The king trusted the prophecy. He maintained a number of acclaimed astrologers at court and relied on their prognostications.
    So, Louis thought, the pope’s crusade is doomed. He will die in the East. Nothing, then, stands against me. I can break the power of the dukes and reunify France. A proud destiny! “Tell me,” the king asked his ambassador, “what does this prophecy augur for my reign?”
    “It’s a mystery, Highness. It predicts you will expel the English from France not by force of arms, but with goose, deer, and grapes.”
    “Fascinating,” the Spider King reflected. “What could this mean?” Then he offered his decree: “This prophecy is now a treasure of France. Let it be housed in our private library and defended against all enemies.”
     

     
    E GYPT, F EBRUARY 2013
    Sheik Ahmed spat in disgust and shouted into the phone: “You impotent dogs let them escape?”
    “The nazarani monks helped the Americans. They warned them and sabotaged our vehicle.”
    “Failure is unacceptable. You understand the penalty for incompetence.”
    “We may yet succeed, insh’allah . I repaired the jeep. We will follow. Perhaps we will overtake them. We know they travel to Masr [Cairo]. I’ve alerted our people there. If we don’t catch them before, they’ll be intercepted the moment they arrive.”
     
     
    Paul collapsed into the seat, exhausted. Before he could pass out, a pilgrim tapped him on the shoulder. He presented a first-aid kit and pointed to Paul’s leg, which was bleeding profusely. Together they examined the injury: A bullet had grazed his calf. It was messy and painful, but not serious. Gesturing for his patient to relax, the pilgrim cleaned and disinfected the wound, bandaged it with clean linen, and offered Paul a metal cup full of cold water. Paul drank it down and thanked the man, who never spoke, only smiled.
    Ava regained consciousness on a crowded bus, surrounded by curious strangers. She looked around nervously until Paul eased in beside her. “How do you feel?” he asked.
    “I’ll live,” she replied, “thanks to you.”
    “I thought maybe I broke your ribs.”
    Ava raised both arms overhead and rotated her torso to the left and to the right.
    “Bruised, I think, but