“The Congregation’s official pedigree contains no mention of Benjamin. What Phoebe and Marcus have discovered are only family copies,” Ysabeau said. “Philippe said there was no need to share Matthew’s . . . indiscretion. When Benjamin was made, the Congregation’s pedigrees were in Constantinople. We were in far away Outremer, struggling to hold our territory in the Holy Land. Who would know if we left him out?”
“But surely other vampires in the Crusader colonies knew about Benjamin?” Hamish asked.
“Very few of those vampires survive. Even fewer would dare to question Philippe’s official story,”
Matthew said. Hamish looked skeptical.
“Hamish is right to worry. When Matthew’s marriage to Diana becomes common knowledge—not to mention Philippe’s blood vow and the existence of the twins—some who have remained silent about my past may not be willing to do so any longer,” Ysabeau said.
This time it was Sarah who repeated the name we were all thinking. “Gerbert.”
Ysabeau nodded. “Someone will remember Louisa’s escapades. And then another vampire may recall what happened among Marcus’s children in New Orleans. Gerbert might remind the Congregation that once, long ago, Matthew showed signs of madness, though he seemed to grow out of them. The de Clermonts will be vulnerable as they have never been before.”
“And one or both of the twins might have the disease,” Hamish said. “A six-month-old killer is a terrifying prospect. No creature would blame the Congregation for taking action.”
“Perhaps a witch’s blood will somehow prevent the disease from taking root,” Ysabeau said.
“Wait.” Marcus’s face was still as he concentrated. “When exactly was Benjamin made?”
“In the early twelfth century,” Matthew replied, frowning. “After the First Crusade.”
“And when did the witch in Jerusalem give birth to a vampire baby?”
“What vampire baby?” Matthew’s voice echoed through the room like a gunshot.
“The one that Ysabeau told us about in January,” Sarah said. “It turns out you and Diana aren’t the only special creatures in the world. This has all happened before.”
“I’ve always thought it was nothing more than a rumor spread to turn creatures against one another,” Ysabeau said, her voice shaking. “But Philippe believed the tale. And now Diana has come home pregnant. . . .”
“Tell me, Maman,” Matthew said. “Everything.”
“A vampire raped a witch in Jerusalem. She conceived his child,” Ysabeau said, the words coming out in a rush. “We never knew who the vampire was. The witch refused to identify him.”
Only weavers could carry a vampire’s child—not ordinary witches. Goody Alsop had told me as much in London.
“When?” Matthew’s tone was hushed.
“After the First Crusade.” Ysabeau looked thoughtful. “Just before the Congregation was formed and the covenant was signed.”
“Just after I made Benjamin,” Matthew said.
“Perhaps Benjamin inherited more than blood rage from you,” Hamish said.
“And the child?” Matthew asked.
“Died of starvation,” Ysabeau whispered. “The babe refused his mother’s breast.”
Matthew shot to his feet.
“Many newborns will not take their mother’s milk,” Ysabeau protested.
“Did the baby drink blood?” Matthew demanded. “The mother claimed she did.” Ysabeau winced when Matthew’s fist struck the table. “But Philippe was not sure. By the time he held the child, she was on the brink of death and would not take any nourishment at all.”
“Philippe should have told me about this when he met Diana.” Matthew pointed an accusatory finger at Ysabeau. “Failing that, you should have told me when I first brought her home.”
“And if we all did what we should, we would wake to find ourselves in paradise,” Ysabeau said, her temper rising.
“Stop it. Both of you. You can’t hate your father or Ysabeau for something you’ve done yourself, Matthew,” Sarah observed quietly. “Besides, we have enough problems in the present without worrying about what happened in the past.”
Sarah’s words immediately lowered the tension in the room.
“What are we going to do?” Marcus asked his father.
Matthew seemed surprised by the question.
“We’re a family,” Marcus said, “whether the Congregation recognizes us or not, just as you and Diana are husband and wife no matter what those idiots in Venice think.”
“We’ll let Baldwin have his way—for now,” Matthew replied after thinking for a moment. “I’ll take Sarah and Diana to Oxford. If what you say is true, and another vampire—possibly Benjamin— fathered a child on a witch, we need to know how and why some witches and some vampires can reproduce.”
“I’ll let Miriam know,” Marcus said. “She’ll be glad to have you back in the lab again. While you’re there, you can try to figure out how blood rage works.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing all these years?” Matthew asked softly.
“Your research,” I said, thinking of Matthew’s study of creature evolution and genetics. “You haven’t been looking solely for creature origins. You’ve been trying to figure out how blood rage is contracted and how to cure it.”
“No matter what else Miriam and I are doing in the lab, we’re always hoping to make some discovery that will lead to a cure,” Matthew admitted.
“What can I do?” Hamish asked, capturing Matthew’s attention.
“You’ll have to leave Sept-Tours, too. I need you to study the covenant—whatever you can find out about early Congregation debates, anything that might shed light on what happened in Jerusalem between the end of the First Crusade and the date the covenant became law.” Matthew looked about the Round Tower. “It’s too bad you can’t work here.”
“I’ll help with that research if you’d like,” said Phoebe.
“Surely you’ll go back to London,” Hamish said.
“I will stay here, with Marcus,” Phoebe said, her chin rising. “I’m not a witch or a daemon. There’s no Congregation rule that bars me from remaining at Sept-Tours.”
“These restrictions are only temporary,” Matthew said. “Once the members of the Congregation satisfy themselves that all is as it should be at Sept-Tours, Gerbert will take Ysabeau to his house in the Cantal. After that drama Baldwin will soon grow bored and return to New York. Then we can all meet back here. Hopefully by then we’ll know more and can make a better plan.”
Marcus nodded, though he didn’t look pleased. “Of course, if you formed a scion . . .”
“Impossible,” Matthew said.
“‘Impossible’ n’est pas fran?ais,” Ysabeau said, her tone as tart as vinegar. “And it certainly was not a word in your father’s vocabulary.”
“The only thing that sounds out of the question to me is remaining within Baldwin’s clan and under his direct control,” Marcus said, nodding at his grandmother.
“After all the secrets that have been exposed today, you still think my name and blood are something you should be proud to possess?” Matthew asked Marcus.
“Rather you than Baldwin,” Marcus said, meeting his father’s gaze.
“I don’t know how you can bear to have me in your presence,” Matthew said softly, turning away, “never mind forgive me.”
“I haven’t forgiven you,” Marcus said evenly. “Find the cure for blood rage. Fight to have the covenant repealed, and refuse to support a Congregation that upholds such unjust laws. Form a scion, so that we can live without Baldwin breathing down our necks.”
“And then?” Matthew said, a sardonic lift to his eyebrow.
“Then not only will I forgive you, I’ll be the first to offer you my allegiance,” Marcus said, “not only as my father but as my sire.”