“No,” she said.
Oddly, though he’d been angry earlier—not at her but at the circumstances—now he felt laughter gurgling in his throat. He knew what it was: relief at having survived a near death experience.
But there was something more there that surprised him, a sense of peace. He didn’t know if it could last. He’d survived death before and felt not dissimilarly. But he was glad anyway to feel it again for the first time in a long while.
He put out his hand and watched it shake. As he did so, one of Aquitaine’s soldiers, who’d been limping up the road reached him and held out his own hand, which trembled too. “My lord.”
“Soldier,” Callum replied.
The soldier limped on by, but as he headed out of the gatehouse, Callum was pretty sure his spine was a little straighter.
Chapter Thirty-one
Day Two
David
“I’m concerned about the timing.” Ieuan studied the walls of Vincennes. “This plan was put together too quickly, with too many moving parts we can’t control.”
“The wine delivery happened right on schedule, but we can’t know if they opened the casks until we get inside. Regardless, whatever we do has to be done tonight,” David said. “We can’t risk Nogaret and Mornay getting desperate. After tonight, everything’s going to fall apart for them. If we don’t get Joana and her children out soon, they will get caught in the aftermath.”
As Ieuan had said, the timing of their endeavors had become very clear, even more so than over the last few weeks, or yesterday evening when David had arrived in Paris. There were more moving parts than ever too, but the value of accomplishing everything not only within a single night but almost within a single hour could not be understated. Philippe’s move to have the Templars expel the Jewish community from Paris was giving them an opportunity. David was still astounded that Nogaret would discuss their expulsion so casually at a communal table, but Nogaret, like his fellow advisers, never even considered the possibility that anyone would seriously object.
“I count four guards on the wall-walk.” Ieuan was still thinking about their target. “There will be more in the house. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I don’t like it.”
“We’ve infiltrated similar places before.” David was thinking of the few days after he met Lili.
Ieuan knew without asking the incident he was talking about. “We’ve escaped from similar places before, but you want to do this without killing anyone.”
“A farmer’s cart, a little fire, a disguise or two.” David clapped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “We’ve been living high for too long. You’re rusty.”
“I’m a grumpy old man, that’s what I am.” Together they retreated from their vantage point.
Vincennes wasn’t the imposing fourteenth century fortress that existed in Avalon. In 1295, it was more of a palace or large manor, surrounded by a twelve-foot high fortification made of wooden stakes called a palisade. A fence, in other words. They had enough men back at the Paris Temple for a full-on assault should it become necessary, but that would expose the fact that the Templars were working with David—something they’d managed up until now to keep a secret from everyone, even George. And even if that did get out, it would look a little too much like the war David was trying so hard to avert.
They returned to where the others waited. This included Cador and Constance, dressed as a merchant couple, and five Templars. Henri was the only knight among them. Despite the conversation on the way to the synagogue, he’d volunteered to come on this initial scouting trip. Vincennes was less than four miles as the crow flies from the Paris Temple. It had taken them a half-hour to get here at a trot. Backup wasn’t very far away, in medieval terms, though an hour round-trip could definitely make a difference between success and failure, life and death.
For this scouting mission, none of the Templars were wearing traditional garb. David was aware that the idea of putting off their robes and crosses had disturbed many, including Henri—though he, at least, had some experience with the craziness that often surrounded David, having ridden with him (in that instance dressed as a Templar) during Gilbert de Clare’s coup attempt.
After Ieuan explained what was facing them now, Henri said, “King Philippe put his trust in the wrong people.”
“He did. But I trusted Gilbert de Clare,” David said.
Henri bent his head. “You are very forgiving of Philippe, considering he’s put you in this position.”
“He got us out of the palace.”
“Only so you could save his family.” Henri gave a low grunt. “Nobody is forcing him to act against Jews.”
“Sadly, that does seem to be Philippe’s own preference,” David said, “but that’s why I came—to do something about all of it.”
“What are we going to do about this?” Constance asked.
“Now that I’ve seen it, I have a better idea of what might be possible.” David had actually already had an idea, and it was the reason he’d so steadfastly insisted on coming along. “But I suspect you aren’t going to like it.”
Ieuan had his arms folded across his chest. “Just tell us and get it over with, my lord. We’ve come with you this far.”
David nodded at his Templar companions. “You have your normal gear in your saddle bags, yes?”
To a man, they nodded.
“We can do this right now if you put it on again.”
The men stirred, and Henri said, “Are you sure, sire? We have accepted the Grand Master’s suspension of the restriction to wear it at all times.”
“I know you have, and I also know it chafes at you, even as you obey. But this plan of mine really requires you to wear it, because it involves another deception you probably are going to like even less: I want you to bring me into Vincennes as your prisoner.”
They were so shocked, nobody even had the voice to protest.
Ieuan looked sour and rolled his eyes. “In for a penny, in for a pound, is that it?”
With a laugh, David realized for the first time where that phrase came from, though he’d heard it said, and said it himself, a thousand times before. Probably modern Americans were still wondering what pennies had to do with weight.
“We will be let in the gate—how could we not be?—and taken into the house. Meanwhile, Cador and Constance will wait outside.”
“But—” The first protest was from Constance, as it would be.
David put out a hand, telling her to wait. “When the guards are all dosed with poppy juice and nicely asleep, one of you—” he gestured somewhat grandly to the Templars who faced him, “—will simply open the gate to Cador and Constance, who will be driving that haycart we saw a half-mile back. With all the guards asleep, it will be easy for Cador and Constance to free me and Joana, and we will drive away with none the wiser.”
One of the Templars frowned. “What about us, my lord? If your plan is to keep our involvement a secret, when the guards wake and discover Joana is gone, they’ll blame us.”
“You misunderstand. The five of you will stay behind, dosed with poppy juice too, though I leave it to your discretion how much to drink.” David canted his head. “Probably we should leave everyone tied up as well. That way the guards will see you as allies—as will Philippe.”
Henri put up one finger. “Sire, not to criticize, and while I appreciate your desire to protect us, I am far more concerned about protecting you. A much better plan would be for you to stay here and the five of us simply arrive at Vincennes with orders to move Philippe’s family. None of those guards there will question us.” He snorted his derision.
David gave Henri a long look, trying to think how best to refuse. In the end, he simply put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “No. I can’t let you.”
Such was their friendship by now that Henri didn’t take offense. Rather, he said, “Do you ride at the command of the king?”
“You know I do.”
“If he
learns of our part in rescuing his family, how can that be a bad thing?”
David still shook his head. “We have come too far to let Philippe know the truth.”
“You still don’t trust him?”
David thought of all the reasons he couldn’t, none of which he wanted to speak of out loud, even to Henri. Not here. Though David’s intent had never been to drive a wedge between the Templars and the French court, he’d ended up telling Grand Master Molay everything he knew of the ending of the Templars as a means to convince him to support this endeavor. Molay hadn’t shared that information with anyone else, not even Matthew Norris, though he’d told him more than any other knight.
So David shook his head. “I appreciate your desire to make this easy, Henri. But I cannot let you take the risk. At the same time, I admit it isn’t entirely up to me. We will go back to the commandery to talk about it, but I think your master will agree with me that your plan won’t work the way we need it to. Which means we’re back to mine.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Day Two
Christopher
“I don’t like the look of that.” Huw had arrived in Paris that morning on the boats, which lay moored outside the city, waiting to be filled by the refugees from Paris. Or by now maybe a better word would be émigrés. The timing of his arrival had been a little tight, though he thought he’d been a day early.
Christopher almost laughed. “How many times have we done this? And how many times have you said that exact same thing?”
“Too many, by my count,” William said sourly from Christopher’s other side.
“Ireland, England, and now France.” Christopher ticked the countries off on his fingers, trying to lighten the dark moment.
Once again, he and his friends had been given a genuine scouting mission, and once again they were in the right place at the right time. He’d realized by now that some of that was lucky, but a lot of it was less arbitrary than it looked at first. Spies had to make their own luck, which meant, in this case, sending people out on what could be a useless task, but sending them anyway. It was why he’d been on the top floor of the palace yesterday to hear George betray them. In fact, it was the basis of most of the work he’d done for DG. Lots of times, all they did was stand around and watch, but if a person did that enough, eventually he was going to discover something useful.
Christopher checked the sky. They had about two hours until sunset. They wanted to be back at the Paris Temple well before then, ready for the next stage of the plan.
What lay before them, however, might put a bit of a spanner in the works, as Callum had been known to say—whatever a spanner was, which Christopher had no idea himself. He made a note to ask Callum the next time they saw each other—if they ever saw each other again. He ruthlessly put down the thought.
“How many men are down there do you think?” Robbie said. “Five hundred?”
“It’s a lot.” Christopher rolled onto his back and stared up at the trees above his head.
They’d found a vantage point to the west of the village of Bobigny. Nogaret’s plan, as related by Norris, was for the Templars to escort the community of Jews five miles northeast of the city, to this village. Not so ironically in Avalon, it was in Bobigny that Jews of the twentieth century had been put on trains and sent to die during World War II.
Because of what Isabelle had overheard, they knew about the rest of Nogaret’s plan, which the army below them looked prepared to fulfil. That army was precisely what Christopher and his friends had been sent this afternoon to find. And truly, five hundred men were a little hard to hide if you knew what to look for: horse tracks, smoke from cooking fires, and local people who could point a finger as to which way they went.
“None of you are going to say it, so I will,” William said, as they retreated off the rise they’d been spying from, back down to where they’d left their horses. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!”
The freaking was a new addition, encouraged by Bronwen (and others) because they loved hearing William say the phrase with such a posh accent.
Robbie rested his head on his horse’s neck. “They’re wearing David’s colors and fly dragon banners.” He looked up. “Do you realize what that means?
“It means Nogaret is more devious than we hoped, and he is working to stay one step ahead of us, even as we are trying to stay one step ahead of him,” Huw said.
“It means,” Christopher said, “that we have to get the hell back to the Temple, because this changes everything.”
William frowned. “How so? The Templars already know not to come here. This army is going to sit in this village all night waiting, and by the time they figure out that nobody is coming, we’ll have everyone on the river.”
“Yes,” Christopher said, trying to keep his temper, since it wasn’t William’s fault that everything had just gone bananas, “but what else does what we see here tell us?”
Robbie had already figured it out. “Nogaret intends for England to take the blame for the death of the Jews.”
“Kind of ironic, since he blamed them for David’s escape in the first place,” Christopher said.
“Those five hundred men would cut through them like a hot knife through butter,” William said. “Even if a Templar is worth four regular troopers, they still wouldn’t have enough.”
“Especially if they were taken by surprise,” Robbie said.
William was looking pensive. “I’m confused. Nogaret has an army here, waiting, dressed like English soldiers. That wasn’t something he came up with in the last few hours. He had to have been planning something with them for weeks. Was he always intending to expel Jews from Paris today?”
Christopher waved a hand for them to mount. The last thing they wanted was to get caught here. “We know that Nogaret always planned for Philippe to keep Aquitaine. He’s also been planning for weeks to trade Arthur for weapons from George. David wasn’t to know about George at all, but to think that Philippe was holding Arthur as hostage to his good behavior—and as leverage against Callum down in Aquitaine. I don’t see where Jews or these soldiers fit into this at all.”
“If David hadn’t escaped, what could Jews have been blamed for?” Robbie said.
Christopher’s stomach sank into his boots. “His death?”
William waggled his head back and forth. “What if those soldiers weren’t originally supposed to be massacring Jewish citizens at all but marauding through the countryside, so the people of Paris would demand David’s head.”
Robbie frowned. “Nogaret would kill his own people?”
William, the child of a Marcher lord, knew better. “It would be nothing to him.”
Christopher looked back towards the encampment, though he couldn’t see it from where he sat in the saddle. He felt pressure building behind his eyes. He’d thought working for DG had taught him to think like a spy, but Nogaret’s mind was proving to be above his pay grade.
Huw shook his head. “It might not matter anymore what he was thinking. Nogaret’s plan isn’t just to murder Jews, it’s to eliminate a bunch of Templars too—and maybe all of them eventually—just as David told Molay he would.”
“Three for one,” Christopher said, “because Nogaret would get to blame England for it all.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Day Two
Philippe
Philippe hadn’t told David the truth about what happened to those who’d worked on the palace because he would have been appalled to learn that the workers had been killed rather than risk knowledge of the secret passages getting out into the world. At that point, they would have been rendered useless, if not a liability, because even the king himself would not have known who might be listening.
Though David wasn’t as weak as Nogaret thought—Philippe himself had witnessed David’s strength—he thought honor, uprightness, and truthfulness were more important than power. And when one was a king, that was a weakness that others could exploit.
/> Because the French crown was pragmatic, no word of the secret passages had ever spread beyond those same palace walls.
Until now.
It was Philippe’s own fault, of course, for rescuing David and his family through them. Then again, since David was the only one who could save Philippe’s family and get him out from under Nogaret’s yoke, it felt at the time like a trade Philippe could live with. David had honor, and Philippe was perfectly willing to use it against him.
But now ...
He crouched in order to run his fingers through the dust that had accumulated on the floor of his secret passage. Two distinct footprints were revealed at the spot where an eyehole had been installed to look into one of the many guest rooms in this wing.
He lowered his lantern so it would shine on the floor and put his own foot next to the mark. It appeared to be made from a boot rather than a slipper like he wore, soft-soled so as to make as little noise as possible. The foot was smaller than his too, that of a woman or a small man. He rubbed his chin as he studied it. He’d never noticed footprints other than his own in the passage before, and he sent a grateful prayer to his father for telling him to leave the dust in the passages to accumulate—for just this very reason.
Then voices came from the other side of the wall, one with the mid-range clarity of Nogaret.
Philippe doused the lantern so no light would shine from this side of the wall when he pulled the cork from the eyehole, which he then proceeded to do with great delicacy. Flote, Nogaret, and the Avalonian from David’s court, the one named George, stood in the middle of the room, arguing.
“You. Owe. Me.” With his index finger, George poked Nogaret in the chest to punctuate each word.
“The situation is not irretrievable,” Nogaret said, speaking mildly in that annoying way he had.
“How is it not irretrievable? David is gone. You let him get away.”
“He hasn’t left the city.”
Unbroken in Time Page 19