Unbroken in Time

by Sarah Woodbury

  “Do you want him to?”

  “Would he, if I asked?”

  “He would do it only if he thought it necessary or it became so.”

  Philippe gave a low laugh. “He sees himself as my equal. He sees Aquitaine as equal to France.”

  The trouble started when you began believing otherwise. Christopher wasn’t David, so he couldn’t say that. Maybe David wouldn’t have either, but he knew he was thinking it. What Philippe still didn’t seem to realize was that David had moved beyond ideas about who was king and who was duke.

  Things had gone too far in Aquitaine and the principles of democracy were too important for David ever to have given up the country to Philippe. What documents had or had not been signed mattered little in the end. As long as David occupied Aquitaine and could defend it, it was his. And the whole point was that, someday, nobody would be king.

  “Nogaret’s power lies in his influence over you. If that’s gone, you can reassert control over your own court. And it starts with taking charge of your men. You are still the King of France.”

  Philippe stopped cold. “In which case, I shouldn’t come with you after all.”

  Christopher had already stepped into the passageway, and now he turned back. “Why not?”

  Philippe stood with his hands on his hips, staring towards the fireplace, where coals burned low. “You’re sure they wore England’s colors?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mon Dieu.” His head came up, and now his expression was aghast. “They are there to kill the Jews.”

  Christopher didn’t reply, just stood very still. David had emphasized time and again that he wasn’t to be lulled into telling Philippe anything beyond what was necessary, and any conclusions about what might be going on had to be drawn by Philippe himself. Above all else, Christopher was not to reveal the relationship between David and the Templars.

  Now Philippe took a step towards Christopher, really looking at him for the first time. “You knew?”

  Christopher almost cursed at how his stupid face kept giving him away. “Nothing for sure.”

  Philippe turned away and began to pace back and forth across the floor by his bed. “Nogaret latched upon Brittany’s proposal to have the Templars evict the Jews from Paris so my personal guard wouldn’t be involved. But why did that matter?” He was talking to himself and answered his own question. “Because the citizenry of Paris might think badly of me. That can’t be right. Nobody likes Jews. We tolerate them for their money. They will thank the Templars when it’s over.”

  He was speaking very fast now. “Why the soldiers at Bobigny? Because Nogaret wants more than money. He wants them dead. Why? So they can’t reclaim their goods? Silly to think so, since their homes are already mine. Why else? So I wouldn’t be tempted to borrow from them again? So I would grow ever more dependent on him and the men he has arranged to lend to me?” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I already know he doesn’t want me borrowing from the Templars, because he has said so, and thinks they have grown too powerful. He doesn’t care if a few of them are killed too.” Philippe spun on his heel, his expression alight. “And David blamed for it all. If he hadn’t sent you to me, I would never have known.”

  Now Philippe’s expression turned fierce. “We have to warn Norris that his men are in danger. He told me he would empty the Temple for the task. He’ll lose a hundred men tonight and cripple the Templars in France. It may already be too late.”

  “I’ll go right now.” Christopher leapt at the task, unnecessary as it was. “The word on the right bank is that they’ve barely left the commandery. With so many people walking, they won’t have gone far.”

  “You’re a boy. Nobody will listen to you.” Philippe strode to his writing table, inked a pen, and scribbled on a scrap of paper. “Norris can put them on the western road to Rouen.” He melted wax and sealed the note.

  As Christopher accepted the paper, he wondered how Philippe thought five hundred people would manage the hundred-mile walk to Rouen. How would they eat? Where would they sleep? His detachment from the way real people lived had never been more obvious. Then again, Philippe genuinely might not care as long as he got their stuff and they weren’t actually slaughtered.

  “I’ll find them; I swear it. What about you?”

  “I must ... ride myself to Bobigny.” He seemed appalled by the thought. “But how? Who can I trust?”

  “Nogaret is gone. Flote is gone,” Christopher said. “That leaves only Mornay, Burgundy—

  “—and that buffoon John, Duke of Brittany.” Philippe snapped his fingers, this time at Christopher. “What’s his son’s name?”

  “I believe he is also called John.”

  Philippe nodded. “Right. Him. He might do.”

  “What about the captain of your guard?”

  “He isn’t my captain. And besides, Nogaret took him to Vincennes, along with several other lackeys.” Philippe’s eyes blazed with passion. “Find me Brittany’s son. We will roust my so-called advisers and tell them there’s been a changing of the guard.”

  Christopher hurried away to do the king’s bidding, using the actual door to the room this time, since he no longer had to hide his presence. While he was pleased not to have been recognized, as insane as that might seem, and even more pleased to learn that John Jr. might become a trusted adviser of the King of France, Christopher was more worried now than when he’d come in.

  A changing of the guard had definitely been in order, but the fire in Philippe’s eyes had him wondering if that change really was going to be for the better.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Day Two

  Ieuan

  Ieuan cursed long and hard at the sight of Nogaret entering the palace on Dafydd’s heels. He put his head down for a moment, his hands clenched as he fought back his dread.

  “A shot from here is child’s play,” Constance said from beside him.

  Ieuan shook his head, knowing it was his job to stand in Dafydd’s stead, even if his first impulse was to tell her to let loose. “We can’t. Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dafydd wouldn’t want us to. He isn’t here to kill people, even those as offensive as Nogaret. The English crown can’t go around murdering members of the French court. If this were battle, it would be one thing, but we’re not in the business of assassination. Besides, Dafydd wants to do this with as little footprint as possible.”

  “Cador is set up in a tree with a clear view of the courtyard. That wall really isn’t all that high.”

  “If it looks like we’ve engaged them in battle, both of you are free to let loose at will. I’ll even join in. Until then, we stay where we are.”

  Constance shook her head. “I don’t understand these rules.”

  Ieuan looked at her with pity, since he’d once been in her shoes. “Enough that Dafydd does.”

  She harrumphed, but didn’t argue anymore.

  For Ieuan’s part, the conversation had allowed him to get his head on straight and focus on what lay before him. The lengthy conference they’d had back at the Paris Temple felt like three days ago rather than three hours.

  “The whole point,” Elisa had said to Dafydd in a very reasonable tone, “was for you to get out of the palace and city and be safe. Of all the things you could be doing, walking as a prisoner into Vincennes is not one of them!”

  “Does anyone have a better idea?” Dafydd said. “The end result has to be both that Joana is free and the Templars are trusted advisers to the king again, and I don’t see how either can be accomplished any other way.”

  Although Christopher had heard enough at the breakfast table to warrant immediate action, Nogaret had neglected to mention within his hearing this five miles outside the city nonsense. He hadn’t mentioned it to Norris either, once he’d come into the king’s presence, only directing him to lead the refugees to a village five miles northeast of Paris.

  Master Norris had returned from the palace not long after Chr
istopher had arrived with his new friend, Isabelle. With Christopher’s further discovery of the army at Bobigny, the pair of them had become heroes in their own right, not that such a designation was new to Christopher. Whatever was putting them in the right place at the right time to hear what needed to be heard needed to keep it up.

  “Likely Nogaret didn’t tell me the rest of what he’s planning, whatever that is, because he knew the Templars wouldn’t approve.” Norris had paced off to one side, his head down, thinking hard. Accommodating Dafydd and his companions had been a real test of his leadership. Here was another, and he knew it.

  From the very beginning, the watchword for their plan had been opportunity, one leading to another, which led to another. And even if, back in England when they’d started this process, Dafydd hadn’t predicted they’d end up here, somehow they’d continue to follow the links of opportunity until they had a full chain.

  Hiding in the trees within sight of the front gate of Vincennes, Ieuan had to trust the process which so far had worked.

  He was trying to, anyway.

  He nudged Constance. “We should get back to the road.”

  By the time they arrived, his spirits lifted to find Michael and Darren waiting for them, along with the former prisoners, Samuel, Matha, Venny, Rhys, and Mathew, all none the worse for their night and day in prison.

  Venny was just finishing a sandwich of bread, cheese, and smoked meat. Matha took a big slug of water and passed on the pouch.

  “By God, it’s good to see you!” Ieuan hugged each in turn, all of them wearing grins to split their faces. He’d been worried about them, even if the saucy smile Venny gave him belied any concern on his part.

  “Everyone made it out,” Michael said. “Even Marco Polo, if you can believe that.” The reflected light from Vincennes was substantial enough to see Michael roll his eyes as he said the name.

  Ieuan himself didn’t quite understand Dafydd’s interest in the Italian, but as long as the coincidences kept trickling in, he wouldn’t argue. While Constance explained the situation inside Vincennes to the others, Ieuan walked a little way down the road. Soon Michael followed, since he knew most of it already. His chin jutted out, no happier about Dafydd’s predicament than Ieuan himself.

  “There’s eight of us now.” Venny joined them. “We came to help. I understand why you made the choices you have so far, even putting the king at risk again, but I remain unclear as to exactly how David intended to free Joana?”

  “The same way you did,” Michael said.

  “Dosed wine?”

  Ieuan nodded. “According to the Templar’s healer, there isn’t a vial of poppy juice left in Europe.”

  “But Nogaret?” Venny said.

  “A wrinkle we hadn’t anticipated. He drinks wine like everyone else, however,” Ieuan said. “We were going to dose Vincennes’ commander and all his men anyway.”

  Michael lifted his chin to point in the direction of the palace. “They should be well into their cups by now.”

  “Our friends are supposed to signal to us with a light in the window when the action has started,” Ieuan said. “It’ll come.”

  The others crowded around, everyone’s eyes on the palace. It was so dark where they were in comparison to the brightly lit gatehouse, they had no fear of being discovered, if anyone was even watching.

  Ranged along the road, they stared towards the imposing façade of the palace.

  It began to rain harder.

  No light showed.

  Chapter Forty

  Day Two

  David

  David needed to dawdle to give the poppy juice time to work. He did so, once they were outside the receiving room, by bending forward and retching. He saw the guards glance from one to the other, worried expressions on their faces. They hadn’t noticed him swallowing the emetic the Templar’s healer had prepared for him. The commandery was completely out of poppy juice, but they had plenty of wild ginger, a plant native to southern France.

  While the initial intent had been merely to deceive the steward of Vincennes, that Nogaret had come himself was, to David’s mind, icing on the cake. Honestly, it made the whole thing miles better.

  “Get me a chamber pot.” David staggered forward and leaned against a nearby door, which opened into a simple bedroom. He fell to his knees on the floor, heaving some more. He then spent the next fifteen minutes giving a reasonable impression of someone who had the stomach flu, vomiting up the last meal he ate and possibly the lining of his stomach.

  He had been promised a quick response to the ginger, and now that he’d vomited, he felt much better. He didn’t immediately let the guards know that, however, and, after what he hoped was long enough for Nogaret and Norris to be well into their meal, and thus well sauced, he allowed the guards to help him to his feet and set off for the chamber they intended to actually imprison him in.

  David’s guess that his guards wouldn’t know what to do with an ill prisoner had been right. Nogaret was not one to suffer fools, and he had the garrison thoroughly cowed. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell him something he didn’t want to hear.

  And that meant David wasn’t going to wait around for Nogaret to decide he wasn’t kidding anymore. Nor did he feel inclined to let George have his way with him on his terms, whenever he was going to arrive.

  David was freeing Joana now.

  The two guards took David to the top floor of the palace and then along a corridor to a room at the end. It was a similar configuration to where David and his family had been held in Philippe’s palace on the Île de la Cité. None of the rooms were guarded. David could understand the reasoning: the only prisoners up until now had been a woman and her children. They weren’t seen as a threat. Nor by now, given his apparent illness, was David.

  He waited weakly, head hanging and his shoulder pressed against the wall, while one of the guards unlocked the door, fumbling a bit with the oversized key. Just as he opened it, Henri appeared at the opposite end of the corridor they’d just come down and called out, “My friends! I have wine!” He held up a carafe.

  The first guard glanced at the second, who held David’s rope loosely at his side. “C’est bon?”

  “Oui.

  Nodding, a pleased smile on his face, the first guard took a few paces towards Henri while the one holding David’s rope tugged him into the room.

  David’s guards couldn’t have arranged themselves more vulnerably if he’d told them outright what he wanted. The original plan had been for David to wait for the Templars to dose all the guards before admitting his own men into the palace, but he decided there was no reason not to act now.

  Once fully inside the room, David dropped the rope and took two quick strides so he was right on the guard’s heels. By the time the guard noticed, David had him in a headlock, which he held while the man struggled until he lost consciousness. David had killed men before, but so far it hadn’t been necessary, and he would rather not murder some poor schmuck who hadn’t done anything wrong beyond obey Nogaret’s orders.

  For that reason, David wrapped his right arm around the guard’s neck in order to put pressure on both sides. This was not a matter of cutting off the guard’s air. Instead, it was to restrict blood flow to his brain, which resulted in him passing out five seconds later.

  Once the man sagged against him, David dragged him into the adjacent room, the one where Joana and her children slept. From the fact that she was still fully dressed, Joana hadn’t been asleep when they arrived. She watched him now, a hand to her mouth, but didn’t speak—or scream, which would have been much worse. Five years younger than Philippe (and David), she’d married at the age of eleven, and her eldest living child, Louis, was six, the same age as Arthur. Their middle boy, Philippe Jr., was two and a half, the same age as David’s son Alexander, and their third son, Charles, was one. And, to David’s surprise, she was heavily pregnant.

  David stripped the guard of his cloak and belt knife. Unfortunately, low-level
guards such as these didn’t carry swords or he would have taken that too. Next he ripped several lengths of decorative cord from the bed hangings and started tying the man up.

  Finally, when he was sure the man wasn’t going anywhere, he reached into his right boot, pulled out the ring Philippe had given him, and held it out to Joana. “Your husband sends his regards.”

  Joana still seemed to be in shock. “Who are you?”

  “David.” Having now arranged the unconscious guard on the far side of the bed, David spoke softly so as not to wake the sleeping boys who lay upon it, even though, like his own sons, they appeared to be able to sleep through anything. Two women, one similar in age to Joana and the other much older, lay on a pallet beside the bed. Wetnurse and nanny were his guess. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  “There are ten men between us and the front gate.”

  “More like twenty.” As he buckled on the knife belt, David took a moment to look through the window. The rain was still falling, and he couldn’t see anything beyond the palisade. His friends would be out there, however, so he picked up a nearby candle, waved it in front of the window twice, and then set it down. “It doesn’t matter how many. We’re leaving now. Wake your servants if you trust them and want them to come with us.”

  Leaving Joana to her task, David moved back to the door, which had remained ajar, took a breath, and peered around the frame. Henri had given the other guard a cup of wine, which he was currently downing, seemingly in one go. David made a motion with his hand, prompting Henri to laugh, throw his arm around the guard’s shoulder, and steer him into a nearby chamber.

  David didn’t want Joana to see what Henri was doing or even discover a Templar was helping them, so David returned to the bedroom. To his surprise, Joana had tied the hands and feet of the older woman with another length of the same cord David had used and stuffed a cloth into her mouth.

  Wordlessly, since he was hardly one to judge, David took Philippe Jr. from where he slept on the bed. The little boy fell right back to sleep on his shoulder. Baby Charles was being cradled by the younger woman, who was looking at her mistress with wide eyes. Joana held little Louis’ hand.