"The knights all resented the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain," Lesauvage said. "They needed only the smallest excuse to tear down that monastery."

Annja went back to the second cave, ignoring the fact that Lesauvage's men held guns on her. Her mind worked to solve the problem she'd been presented. She was drawn more into that effort than in being afraid. Something chewed at the back of her mind and restlessly called attention to itself.

"Benoit swore that the charm held the answer to the hiding place," Lesauvage said.

Annja stumbled over a depression in the ground. Aiming the flashlight down, she saw a round hollow.

"Perhaps we should look outside," Roux said.

Lightning flashed, invading the caves for a moment. Almost immediately, thunder shook the earth. Loose rock tumbled from the ceiling and skidded down the walls.

"This isn't gonna cave in, is it?" Avery asked nervously.

Lesauvage sneered at the young man. "You wanted revenge for your father. Don't you realize you need a spine for that?" He cursed. "Instead, you came to me, imploring me to unleash my Wild Huntsmen on Inspector Richelieu."

Annja looked at the young man.

Tears ran down Avery's face and dripped from his scruffy chin. He spoke in French. "He killed my father! I saw him do it! It's not fair that everyone thinks he's a hero! My father wasn't even armed. He was just a thief, not a murderer." He wiped at his face with his bandaged hand. The handcuffs gleamed in the flashlight's beam.

Annja felt a surge of compassion for the young man. She'd never known her parents. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch a parent's murder.

"Stop your damned sniveling, child," Lesauvage commanded. "Otherwise I'll have you taken out and shot."

"No," Annja said.

Lesauvage turned on her. "I'm getting tired of your continued insistence on giving the orders around here, Miss Creed. You've not done as I've asked and brought the charm, and now you're wasting my time."

"I don't have the charm," Annja said. "I told you that. You choose not to believe me. I can't help that. I've offered you the best help that I can."

Smiling, Lesauvage pointed his pistol directly between Annja's eyes. "I won't kill you, Miss Creed. Not yet. But I am going to kill one of these two men if you don't have some degree of success." He paused. "Soon."

Unflinching, Annja stared across the barrel of the pistol. Lesauvage's men shifted uneasily behind him.

"Choose one of them," Lesauvage ordered. "Save one. I will kill the other."

"I need a shovel," Annja said.

Lesauvage blinked at her. "What?"

"I think I know what the charm referred to," she said.

"Tell me."

Annja pointed to the depressions in front of the smaller caves. "These were traps at one time."

Surveying the ground, Lesauvage nodded. "So?"

"I think at least one of them is more than that." Excitement filled Annja as she thought about the clue her subconscious mind had given her. "You and I have been speaking English. Avery spoke in French."

"How has that any bearing?"

"Because it made me think of what these traps were originally called. Have you heard of the word loophole?"

"As in a legal maneuver?" Lesauvage sounded impatient.

"As in the origin of the word," Annja said.

Lesauvage glared at her. "I don't care for a lesson in wordplay."

"You should. Two hundred and forty years ago, wordplay was everything in entertainment. Puzzles, limericks, jokes and brainteasers took the place of television and video games. When I work a dig site, I have to keep that in mind. Words can have several meanings, not just the superficial ones. The hanged wolf on the charm was a clue, and it was an icon. A picture of the word Benoit perhaps didn't know how to write."

"A loophole was an opening in a defensive wall on a structure or a cave in the forest," Roux said, smiling as if he knew where Annja was going. "A way a traveler might check for wolves lying in wait outside the wall. Or, as they were known in French, loupes."

"That's right," Annja said. She gestured toward the trap. "Pits like these were used back in the days of Julius Caesar. He wrote about them in his Commentaries on the Gallic Wars.But do you know what they're called in French?"

Lesauvage shook his head.

"Trou de loup."

"Wolf trap," Lesauvage said.

"Yes. The charm had a picture of a hanged wolf on it," Annja said. "But maybe it wasn't a hanged wolf. I think it was a trapped wolf."

Lesauvage looked down at the trou de loupbeneath Annja's feet. "Get her a shovel," he ordered. "Get them all shovels."

Annja dug. The effort brought a warm burn to her arm, shoulder and back muscles. The chill of the cave left her.

The work went easily. Someone had filled in the wolf traps a long time ago, but the earth wasn't solidly packed. The shovel blade bit down deeply each time. Roux and Avery dug out the other two pits.

Annja reached the bottom of her pit first. Stakes had impaled a victim hundreds of years ago. Bones and a few scraps of fabric testified to that. She knew the time frame from the few Roman coins and a copper bracelet she dug up on the way to the bottom. The coins, bracelet and the bones were all that were left. The stakes had splintered long ago. When they had been placed all those centuries ago, the Romans had hammered the stakes into bedrock.

Lifting the shovel in both hands, Annja drove the blade down against the bedrock. Satisfied it was solid, she tossed the shovel out and climbed from the pit.

Lesauvage looked at her.

"It's solid," she replied.

"If you're wrong about all three," Lesauvage taunted, "at least you'll have your graves dug."

Annja ignored the comment. They had freed her from the handcuffs. In her mind she had reached out and touched the sword. It was there, waiting.

"How are you doing?" she asked Roux.

"Almost there." Grime stained Roux's face as he worked by lantern light. He turned another shovelful of dirt from the wolf trap. "You do realize that simply losing the treasure wasn't enough to keep the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain in hiding. They were, and still are, one supposes, being punished."

"I know. I have a theory about that, as well. They weren't ostracized by the church for their failure to protect the gold and silver they lost," Annja said.

"It was because of La Bête." Roux took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face.

"Yes."

"Then they did give the beast shelter."

Annja nodded. "They did."

"But whatever on earth for?" Roux asked.

"The clue to that is in the lozenge," Annja said. "In the heraldry that was almost marked for the shadowy figure on the charm."

"Do you know who that figure was?"

"I think I do."

Lesauvage stepped forward and cursed. "Enough talk. More digging."

Annja tapped on Avery's shoulder. The young man's wounded hand had bled through the bandages and formed a crust of dirt.

"What?" Avery asked.

"Let me do it," Annja said.

He scowled at her. "I can do it." Stubbornly, he pushed the shovel back into the dirt.

"You'll be lucky if you don't bleed to death at the rate you're going," she pointed out.