“I am not ashamed to admit I’ve had limited success. I take it as a matter of pride that I’ve been able to resist the temptations of the flesh.”
David snorted. “Easy to resist when you have no prospects.”
Tanya, the farm’s mastiff that had taken a liking to Marcus, the new alpha male of the homestead, growled, her nose pointing down the path leading to the farm. They all turned to see someone on horseback racing toward the property, half a dozen in pursuit several hundred paces behind.
“Is that a woman?” asked Simon, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun high in the western sky.
“Help!” cried the person on horseback, waving at them, answering the question.
Marcus bristled. “Weapons!”
The men scrambled toward the barracks as he rushed toward the home where he lived with the children. “Come!” he ordered Tanya, who dutifully followed. The last thing he needed was the eager beast frightening the horse upon which the lady in distress rode. “My sword!” he shouted, and Isabelle Leblanc, the young woman whose family was helping them during this transition period, appeared in the doorway for a moment, her eyes bulging at the approaching sight, before disappearing inside. She reemerged as he reached the doorway, tossing him his sword. He yanked it from its scabbard and raced down the path toward the woman, Tanya at his side, his men emerging from their unfinished quarters, Simon with his sword, David and Jeremy with their bows and arrows.
“Help me! You must help me!” cried the woman, dressed far finer than any he had seen in these parts. He reached up and grabbed the horse by the lead, steadying it as she came to a halt, her pursuers pounding nearer. “Is this the de Foix farm?”
Marcus nodded. “It is.”
The woman gasped in relief as her shoulders collapsed. “Then you must be my cousin, Sir Henri de Foix. I am Lady Joanne de Rohan. We met some ten years ago at my father’s estate. You must help me! I fear they intend to kill me!”
Marcus had no time to decide whether to believe her or not, nor correct her on the mistaken identity. He was not her cousin. Henri was his brother-in-law, dead two years. All that did matter was that this was a lady, and if a relation, she was aristocracy, and nothing could justify what now arrived on his property—six men, armed, with no sign of good intentions on their faces. He placed himself between her and the new arrivals as Simon joined him at his side, David and Jeremy taking up flanking positions to his left and right, a good hundred paces off.
“Identify yourself!”
One of their uninvited guests advanced. “I am Louis Forbin, captain of Lord Charles de Rohan’s guard.”
“And by what right do you intrude upon my property?” demanded Marcus, his sword casually over his shoulder as the men appeared content to remain upon their horses, but not on the attack.
“By right of this woman’s husband, Lord Charles. We are here to arrest her.”
Marcus concealed his surprise. “On what charge?”
“Adultery.”
This time Marcus failed as his eyebrows rose slightly.
Adultery?
He glanced back at the woman, vehemently shaking her head.
“I swear to you, I am innocent of these charges. I have never been unfaithful to my husband, in body or in spirit.”
Marcus turned back toward the men. “The lady claims she is innocent. What evidence do you have of her guilt?”
Captain Forbin sneered. “I require none. I have orders from my master to bring her back to Paris so she can be arrested, and I intend to fulfill my duty.”
Marcus tapped the hilt of his sword. “Do you know who I am?”
“It is of no concern of mine.”
“I am Sir Marcus de Rancourt, Templar knight, and sworn to protect the innocent. This is my sergeant”—Simon bowed slightly—“and my squires. We have decades of experience fighting the Saracen. I suggest if you intend to press the matter, you leave now and return with more men so that it can at least be a fair fight.”
Forbin drew his sword, quickly followed by the rest. “You’ll find I have little time for Templars.”
Marcus smiled. “Prepare to make the time.”
The man’s horse reared up on its hind legs then leaped forward, followed by the others. Marcus took a step back, preparing himself as an arrow embedded itself in the thigh of Forbin, another in the shoulder of the man to his right. Both cried out as they slumped forward, their momentum killed as their rides sought instructions no longer provided. Marcus surged forward, reaching up and grabbing Forbin by the arm and hauling him off his horse, booting him in the head as he hit the ground. Tanya lunged forward and Marcus pointed at the downed captain.
“Stay!”
Tanya stopped, growling at the man, but holding her position. A grunt on the other side of Forbin’s horse indicated Simon had taken his man down as the thuds of two more arrows finding their marks were heard, two more cries confirming success.
Marcus raised his left arm. “Halt!” he ordered, pressing the tip of his blade against the captain’s throat. “End this now, or he dies, then so do you!”
Those still on their horses stopped, uncertain of what to do, their swords slowly lowering as David and Jeremy closed the gap, ensuring their arrows would penetrate the chainmail even deeper should they loose them.
“Drop your swords.”
Swords clattered to the ground, and Marcus lifted his foot off the captain’s chest. “Tend to your wounded, and be off with you.”
The two uninjured men dismounted and helped their wounded comrades back onto their horses. Marcus grabbed the lead of Forbin’s horse, staring up at him. “Take this message to your master. I will be coming to Paris to find out the truth in this matter. He has my word as a Templar that should I be shown sufficient proof that she is indeed guilty, I will hand her over to the Court myself. Understood?”
Forbin nodded, and Marcus released his horse, the man flicking the reins and heading back down the path with the others. He paused, turning back slightly. “Templar Knight, I would say something to you.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “Proceed.”
“You know not what you have done here, this day. I fear you will not live to regret it.”
“Is that a threat?”
David and Jeremy stretched their bows.
“No, it is merely a warning. You have become involved in something far more dangerous than you can possibly imagine, and one lone knight will not be able to stop what has already begun.”
Marcus smiled. “Fortunately, I am not alone.”
Simon growled beside him, Tanya joining in. Forbin turned again, leading his failed band off the farm. Marcus watched until they were out of sight, then motioned toward Jeremy. “Make sure they leave town.”
“Yes, sir.” Jeremy sprinted for the barn to retrieve a horse as Marcus turned his attention to their new arrival.
“I’m sorry, M’Lady, but what was your name again?”
“I am Lady Joanne de Rohan, your cousin on your mother’s side. Third cousin, I believe.”
Marcus bowed slightly. “I am Sir Marcus de Rancourt, and I regret to inform you that I am not your cousin. Sir Henri, sadly, died two years ago after saving his daughter from drowning.”
Her shoulders slumped as Isabelle raced from the house, Angeline, Jacques, and Pierre remaining in the doorway, their tear-stained cheeks revealing they had seen too much of what had just happened.
“What is going on here?” demanded Isabelle.
Marcus shrugged. “I’m not entirely certain. This is Lady Joanne de Rohan, cousin to my late brother-in-law, Henri.”
Lady Joanne’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “Then we are related, through marriage!”
Marcus grunted. “I suppose we are.”
“Then you must help me!” She stared at Isabelle. “Are you my cousin’s wife?”
Isabelle laughed. “He should be so lucky!” She motioned toward the children. “Two of these are your cousin’s children. I’m merely
helping out around here until these men can learn to take care of themselves.” She gave Marcus a scowl, the others grinning, Marcus not entirely convinced they were correct in their belief she secretly harbored feelings toward him, her displays of hatred the proof. “Come, let’s get you inside and settled, then you can tell us what is going on.”
Marcus had to admit having Isabelle around was convenient. She was an excellent cook, took care of their domestic needs—though through bitter complaints of neglecting her own chores at her home—and was remarkably efficient and wise in handling the unexpected.
Like today.
Marcus would have merely grilled the new arrival for answers, though Isabelle’s method would probably prove more effective. He watched as the two disappeared inside, Jeremy returning.
“They stopped outside of town to tend to their wounds, but I overheard the captain say they would return to Paris for instructions.”
“Good.” He gestured toward the barn. “I’ll be heading in the same direction. Prepare my horse for the journey.”
“Yes, sir.”
Simon held out a hand, halting Jeremy. “Sir, you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I can’t leave the women alone, not if these men intend to return.”
David stepped forward. “Sir, Jeremy and I can manage. You should take Simon with you. You’ll need someone to watch your back.”
Marcus stared at David. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I usually am.” David bowed deeply. “With all due respect, of course.”
Marcus chuckled. “Very well. Prepare both our horses.” He headed toward the house. “Let’s find out what is really going on, shall we?”
3
Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France
Isabelle Leblanc served the clearly terrified woman a tisane, a pot of which she always had at the ready, a habit her mother had ingrained in her since her earliest memories. She wasn’t sure why she was still here, taking care of these foolish men, neglecting her duties to her family and her aging mother. She kept telling herself it was for the children, and it was, but she knew, deep down, it was really Sir Marcus that kept her here.
And it was heartbreaking, because nothing could ever come of it.
A Templar knight, sworn to celibacy, could never take a wife, not while still a member of the Order. His men, any of whom would make a reasonable mate in these parts, were intensely loyal to him, and she doubted would ever leave his side, even with all she had to offer a man.
Yet none of them interested her.
It’s hopeless.
She served the tisane with a smile, and the woman took a sip with shaking hands, closing her eyes as she tried to regain control. “Don’t you worry, M’Lady, Sir Marcus is a good man and will take care of everything, I’m sure.”
Lady Joanne smiled weakly. “I-I hope so. I was hoping to find my cousin. Family, you understand.”
Isabelle patted Joanne’s hand. “While your cousin’s death was a tragedy, in these circumstances, I think Sir Marcus will be better able to assist you. He is a rather remarkable man, with the resources of the Templars behind him.”
Joanne took another sip of her drink, then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.” She looked up as Marcus and Simon entered.
“They’re gone, at least for now.” Marcus took a seat at the table, Simon standing watch at the door. “Now, Lady Joanne, why don’t you tell me everything, from the beginning.”
The woman put her cup down, her hand still shaking. “It-it all happened so suddenly, there isn’t much to tell. A letter was delivered to our home this morning, from whom, I do not know. The letter was presented to my chambermaid who was to take it to my husband. The seal had cracked, so her curiosity won out. She read the letter on her way to deliver it, and immediately realized the danger it posed.”
Marcus interrupted her. “Your chambermaid can read?”
Joanne nodded. “Yes, I’ve been teaching her for years. Something to occupy my time, as we have no children.”
“I understand. Please, continue.”
“Well, she knew she had to deliver it, otherwise she may get in serious trouble, but instead of delivering it into my husband’s hands, she placed it under the tray used to serve his morning meal.”
Isabelle nodded in appreciation. “Clever girl.”
Joanne agreed. “Yes, and faithful to a fault.”
Marcus shifted in his chair. “And what did this letter say?”
“I’m not sure exactly what was said, my girl only giving me the highlights to make me understand the urgency, but in summary, it accused me of committing adultery with another man, that there were witnesses, and proof would be forthcoming.”
Simon grunted, avoiding eye contact. “And you…”
“I’m innocent, of course.”
Simon bowed. “Of course.”
Marcus dismissed the question with the flick of his wrist. “Of course you are, M’Lady. How did you make your escape?”
“Well, my girl warned me, and while I debated what to do, she arranged a horse and provisions with the stable boy. She returned, my husband having since found the letter, and compelled me to leave rather than discuss the matter with him. I dare say she was correct to force me to leave, as I fear I’d be in a dungeon now if it weren’t for her. She remembered my cousin living here, and I made my way. Obviously, he must have forced my girl to talk, as he wouldn’t have known where to find me. He sent men after me, who caught up with me just as I reached this town.” She paled slightly and clasped a hand to her chest. “Oh no, I hope Beatrice is okay!”
Marcus didn’t say anything, but if he was thinking what Isabelle was, it couldn’t have been good. A woman as loyal to her mistress as Beatrice sounded, would have only given up what she knew through torture or threat of death.
“Did your girl say who you supposedly had this affair with?” asked Marcus.
Joanne shook her head. “No, though like I said, she only gave me a brief description of what the letter contained.”
Marcus rose, Simon immediately straightening. “M’Lady—Cousin, you will remain here with two of my trusted men. My sergeant and I will travel to Paris immediately, and meet with your husband. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find out the truth behind this, before it is too late.”
Tears poured from Joanne’s eyes as she clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, thank you, Cousin, thank you! Your mistress here was right. You are a good man.”
Marcus glanced at Isabelle, her eyes quickly darting to the floor as her cheeks flushed. “I hesitate to ask—”
Isabelle steeled herself then glared at him, throwing her hands up in the air. “Of course, of course. I’ll help watch the children, and take care of your cousin.”
Marcus bowed. “I appreciate your sacrifice.”
Isabelle was about to snap an annoyed response when she spotted Simon grinning at her. “And what has you all smiles?”
Simon’s eyes widened. “Umm, nothing.” He beat a hasty retreat out the door and Marcus chuckled.
“Cousin, I’ll get you to write down for me your husband’s name, how to get to your home, and the name of your chambermaid. I shall look out for her personally.”
Isabelle grabbed a quill and paper, placing it in front of their guest. Marcus stepped toward the doorway, watching as his squires brought two fresh horses from the stables, provisioned for the short journey to Paris. She found her eyes roaming his body, imagining what magnificence was hidden by the soiled clothes he now wore from his toils in the field.
I wonder what it looks like.
She had never seen one. She had never been with a man. She had kissed a boy when she was barely ten, though it was an innocent, experimental thing that was at once exciting and disgusting.
But with Marcus?
She had dreamed of kissing him from the moment she had first laid eyes upon him. If there was someone in this world to lose her precious gift to, it was this man standing in front of her. But her infatuation went fa
r beyond their first meeting less than a month ago. It ran back years. Marcus was twice her age, if not more, and it was his sister Nicoline that had spoken of him for years, since she had first found herself expressing any interest in boys. He was always described in such idealistic terms, she had built up an image of him in her mind that she had fallen in love with. When she had finally met him, he had been such a disappointment in some ways, that it had angered her, until she finally realized that her only real disappointment was that he hadn’t immediately declared his own love for her, and they weren’t already planning their wedding.
It wasn’t his fault. He was a celibate Templar, and she was merely a young woman in his eyes, something to be tolerated more than anything else. She had little doubt that once one of his men took on a wife, they would continue to live at the farm and this new addition would replace her, relegating her back to her own home. She would have to take a husband soon, and God knew there were enough suitors in the village that would have her, but she didn’t want them.
She wanted Marcus.
And she could never have him.
“Here’s everything I can think of that you might need.”
Marcus turned, catching Isabelle’s stare before she had a chance to turn away. He took the paper from Joanne and quickly read it. “Excellent. My squires, David and Jeremy, will remain here with you. Hopefully I will return with good news within a couple of days.”
Joanne frowned. “And should you not?”
“M’Lady, I must confess that I made a commitment to uphold justice, no matter what that might be. If I find that you have lied to me, then, relation or not, I will hand you over to the authorities.”
“Sir Marcus!” cried Isabelle, her eyes flaring as she spun on him. “How could you say such a thing!”
Marcus raised a finger, silencing her. “But I will also say this. I believe you, M’Lady, and I will do everything in my power to find out the truth, and bring to justice those who would do you harm.”
4
De Rohan Residence
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 2