Marcus smiled slightly. “I doubt I’ll be leaving.”
The man chuckled. “Of course, of course. But my purpose for delaying you today, is to let you know that what is happening here is far more dangerous than those previous events. You must be very careful. In fact, I fear for your lives.”
Marcus’ eyebrows rose slightly. “And why is that?”
“You are not familiar with the Court, are you?”
Marcus shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Evidently, or you would not have spoken as you did.” Victor lowered his voice, leaning in closer. “All of the women accused are wives to men who favor the truce that currently exists between us and Flanders.”
Marcus had no idea of what truce the man was speaking. “So, you are saying these accusations are politically motivated?”
The man nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. Should these men be embarrassed by the alleged actions of their wives, they will lose their influence in the Court, and those they sway. Should that happen, we could return to war, and that could have devastating consequences.”
Simon grunted. “Why would anyone want war?”
Victor shrugged. “There are many reasons. Should one be confident one will win, and play a pivotal role, one might seek war to increase one’s lands and holdings. While this is possible, it is my belief that something more is going on here.”
“What?” asked Marcus.
“I believe a foreign power is at work, seeking to weaken the Kingdom by forcing us into a war that we could lose, or could bankrupt us. Our finances are already on shaky grounds, as I’m sure you are aware. Another war, and it could be the end of us all.”
Marcus was aware of some of the money problems due to his involvement in the events of several weeks ago. Apparently, the King owed a massive amount to the Templars and the Jews. “Do you have any idea who it could be?”
Victor shook his head. “Unfortunately, we have many enemies. I frankly have no idea who it could be. But I must warn you. If whoever is behind this is willing to risk war and the lives of thousands, he won’t hesitate to eliminate a Templar knight and his faithful sergeant, should either get in his way.”
Marcus frowned. “I will need to think about this. I thank you for the warning, Lord Victor.” He motioned toward the cane. “May I ask why you require a cane?”
The man glanced at it, as if he had forgotten he had it. “Do you mean is it an affectation or a necessity?”
Marcus bowed slightly. “Forgive me for asking.”
The man chuckled. “No need, my good sir. It is, unfortunately, a necessity. At least for now. Several months ago, there was a terrible accident at the joust in honor of Louis IX’s canonization as a saint. The stage holding the King’s Court and their guests collapsed, injuring many, including myself. My leg was unfortunately shattered, and the doctor tells me I will likely never walk again without this infernal thing.”
Marcus’ heart rate ticked up a notch as a thought occurred to him. “I’m sorry to hear that. So, many were injured, some requiring a cane?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “I sense there is a reason for your question, beyond concern for my wellbeing.” He held up a hand as Marcus was about to explain. “I won’t ask you what, but I will answer your question. Yes, many required canes, and many still do.”
Marcus pursed his lips, his mind racing. “Would there be a guest list for this event?”
“For those sitting on that particular stand, absolutely.”
Marcus tried to control his excitement at the revelation. “And where might we find such a list?”
The man chuckled. “You won’t, but I can get it. Meet me at my home tonight. I will have it for you.”
Marcus bowed. “Thank you, sir, your assistance is appreciated.”
“Think nothing of it. But remember my warning. You are not safe, nor, I fear, am I for speaking with you.”
26
Approaching the Durant Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
David suppressed a smile at the plain clothes Lady Joanne now wore. Sir Matthew had been right. The nuns had been more than willing to help, and had even provided her with a change of clothing should her exile be longer than hoped. They had also extended an invitation for her to return should shelter not be found.
But as suspected, two men would not be welcome to stay.
David just hoped that not only did Thomas Durant still reside where Sir Matthew had said, but that he’d be willing to take them in. He had only met him once, several weeks ago, and knew nothing about him except that his father had been a forger of some skill, and had been murdered, leaving the young man all alone.
Other than that, and the fact Sir Marcus had extended an invitation to join them on the farm, he knew nothing.
Jeremy pointed ahead. “I think this is it.”
David frowned at the sight. If this had ever been a thriving business, it had to have been years ago, if not decades. Though that being said, the entire neighborhood appeared as if a good wind might take it down. He dismounted, tying his horse up, and pointed at Tanya to stay. The dog dropped her hindquarters onto the ground, panting rapidly, excited by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of Paris.
David knocked on the door and heard some shuffling inside, but no one answered. He frowned, noting the boards over the windows.
Perhaps he’s ignoring everyone.
He knocked again. “Master Thomas, my name is David. I’m a squire to Sir Marcus de Rancourt. We met—”
The door suddenly opened and the young man, appearing gaunt and tired, stared at him wide-eyed. “Come in!” he said, ushering them inside, quickly closing the door behind them. Though it appeared beyond humble from the outside, what David saw inside surprised him. A fire roared to his left, kicking out enough heat to warm the coldest of souls, a healthy-sized bird was roasting at the periphery, and a table was filled with food and drink, a well-dressed though indecently posed woman sitting at it, her legs spread, her mouth full.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” said David to Thomas, motioning toward Lady Joanne. “If it wouldn’t be too inconvenient, I’d like to leave Lady Joanne here with you, until we find Sir Marcus.”
Thomas shrugged, dropping into a chair and tearing off a piece of bread. “I should open a hostel.” He gestured at the woman. “Sir Marcus left her here earlier.”
Jeremy stepped forward, excitement on his face. “He was here?”
“Yes, only a few hours ago. I assume he’ll be back eventually.”
David smiled at his partner. “This is good news.”
The woman wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “So, you’re the lady in question, hey?”
Lady Joanne regarded her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Well, they wouldn’t tell me names, but you sort of look like Melanie. I don’t see why she had to die though for the likes of you.”
Joanne’s eyes widened. “I assure you, I have no idea of what you speak!”
“Oh, don’t get your knickers in a knot. You’re innocent, we all know it. Sir Denys was planting himself in my girl, not you.”
Joanne blushed, but moved closer to the woman. “You mean, you know I’m innocent? That I wasn’t having an affair?”
“Yeah.”
“Does my husband know?”
“I should think so.”
Joanne spun toward David. “Then I can go home! It’s over!”
David shook his head. “I think we should be cautious, M’Lady. We don’t know what’s actually happened. I suggest you stay here until we get confirmation from Sir Marcus.” He turned to Jeremy. “You stay here with her, and I’ll take Tanya to Lord Charles’ estate. He might know where we can find Sir Marcus and Simon.”
“Sounds good.” Jeremy eyed the food. “And smells good.” His stomach audibly rumbled, and Thomas chuckled, waving a hand at the spread.
“Please, eat. There’s more than enough for a change.”
Jeremy leaped at the bird, tea
ring off a leg then stood at the table, no chairs remaining. David’s own stomach demanded attention, and he joined in, deciding a few minutes wouldn’t change anything.
But not before satisfying an increasingly whining Tanya.
27
Approaching the de Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
Marcus held up a fist, bringing them to a halt as he cocked an ear, listening. He could have sworn he had heard a harsh whisper in the darkness of the alleys surrounding them, the sun low on the horizon, the shadows long and unrevealing.
Something wasn’t right.
He had the sense they had been followed for some time, but he had yet to spot anyone, whomever it might be, clearly an expert. Lord Victor had warned them they were in danger, and he had no doubt his warning wasn’t paranoia. Whatever was going on was serious. Four wives of prominent members of the King’s Court stood accused of heinous crimes, their husband’s reputations shattered, and perhaps a foreign government at play, though he had yet to see any evidence to suggest Victor’s theory had any validity to it.
But if it did, then a Templar knight and his sergeant would surely be forfeit if they threatened the plans of those who would involve themselves in such devious undertakings.
A sword drew from a scabbard in an alley to their right, confirming his suspicions. He drew his own, turning to engage the hidden enemy, Simon facing his horse in the opposite direction to cover their rear.
“And here I thought our pleasant day would end uneventfully.”
Marcus grunted. “Unfortunately, someone has different plans for us.” He glanced to his right, two men stepping from the shadows and into the street they had just passed. “I’ve got two on my right.”
“And I have two on my right. Looks like we’re fighting.”
Marcus listened, and two more came from the alleyway he now faced. “It looks that way.” His horse suddenly cried out, rearing up on its hind legs and tossing him from the saddle. It struggled forward several steps before its hindquarters gave out, an arrow embedded deep into the muscle. Simon’s steed whinnied in agony a moment later as an arrow pierced its neck, Simon jumping clear before it collapsed and crushed him.
“Looks like we’re on our feet then.” Marcus surged toward the alley, swinging his sword at the two blocking his path as he tried to escape the aim of the archer who had forced them to their feet. His blow was parried, as was his second, the man evidently skilled, though this fact failed to concern Marcus.
The Lord was on his side, and should he lose, his afterlife was secured.
He parried his opponent’s swing and advanced, grabbing the man’s arm and yanking him forward, plunging his sword into the man’s belly before kicking him off the blade. Simon was already battling the second man, and the fact the archer hadn’t taken either of them out of the battle suggested, at least for the moment, he had no angle.
Simon swung his sword upward from the right, carrying his opponent’s blade high and away, exposing his side. Marcus swung, cleaving a deep gash into the man’s torso, then spun toward the front of the alley, four more now silhouetted in the fading light.
An arrow zipped past Marcus’ ear and he glanced up, an archer now visible across the street, standing in plain view, knowing they had no way to challenge him. Marcus glanced around them, finding nowhere to hide, the darkness in which they found themselves the only thing saving them now.
But the archer would eventually find his mark, and if he didn’t, his friends would likely best at least one of them.
The archer cried out and fell from the roof, gripping his side, his compatriots spinning to witness his body slam into the cobblestone. One of the men cried out, an arrow visible in his neck, and Marcus smiled, thanking the good Lord for sending assistance, whoever it might be.
“Shall we?”
Simon grunted. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Marcus surged forward, Simon at his side, as their opponents, now only three, split their attention between them and the new arrival. A dog snarled, leaping into view, and Marcus smiled as he recognized Tanya. He lunged forward, dropping close to the ground as he swung low, removing the man’s leg below the knee, as Simon pressed forward, piercing the chest of his man. Another, occupied by Tanya’s jaws, dropped from an arrow.
And then there were none.
Tanya was still yanking at her moaning opponent, threatening to tear his arm off.
Marcus saved him from any further suffering. “Tanya, sit!”
The dog immediately obeyed its master, and the man she had been holding scrambled away, helping his one-legged comrade down the street, the rest dead or dying. David emerged from around the corner, a smile on his face.
Marcus knelt down to give Tanya a good scratch. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your asses, apparently.”
Simon stared at one of those he had bested, the last gurgles of life heard. “I think we were just about to get the upper hand.”
“Of course you were.”
Marcus slapped David on the back. “I’m glad you showed up when you did. That archer almost had us.” He frowned. “But where is Lady Joanne? Is she safe?”
“Yes, she’s with Jeremy at Thomas Durant’s home.”
Marcus chuckled. “I’m happy to hear it. I assume there was a problem?”
“Yes. Several of the King’s guard came to arrest her. They tried to rape her, but we fought them off. I felt it was best to leave the farm, just in case.”
“The children?”
“They’re fine. I had sent them to stay with Isabelle and her mother, just in case anything happened.”
“Good thinking.”
David’s eyes widened. “Maybe not.”
“What?”
“I didn’t tell her we were leaving.”
Simon groaned. “There’ll be no living with her now.”
Marcus chuckled. “I’m sending you back first.”
“What did I ever do to you?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
David brought them back to the moment. “Lady Joanne asked of her husband. She wondered if it was safe for her to return.”
Marcus shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so. At the moment, her arrest warrant is probably still valid, and we don’t know yet who wishes her and her husband harm.” He motioned at Tanya. “Take her back to Thomas’, and protect Lady Joanne and Mrs. Thibault. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Yes, sir.”
28
Durant Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“I find that interesting.”
Thomas Durant eyed the wine sitting on the floor beside him, the feast having moved to a blanket laid out before the fire, now that there were four of them and only two chairs left. Mrs. Thibault had been pestering him with questions, and had just learned that not only did he know how to read and write, his late father was a forger.
The non-stop interrogation was giving him the urge to down every drop of alcohol within reach, then seek out more.
But that wouldn’t solve his problems.
“Wait a minute. Durant! Is your father Max Durant?”
His chest ached at the mention of his father, and by someone as loathsome as this woman. He nodded.
“Oh, he had skills, let me tell you. You should be proud to be his son. I employed him on many an occasion. He spoke of you often. Very proud indeed.”
Thomas stared at her as her words sank in. “You knew my father?”
“Yes! Why, we were practically friends, at least as close a friend as business relations can be. My late husband especially took a liking to him, using him whenever he could. I guess you could say I continued the tradition.” She wagged a finger at him. “Never let someone get away who has skills you might need.” She winked at Lady Joanne. “And a tight tongue!” She howled with laughter, and Thomas and Joanne exchanged an awkward glance.
Thibault finally settled down, taking
a drink of her wine. “So, do you have any of his skills?”
Thomas shook his head. “Just reading and writing.”
“So, you’re not an expert forger like your father?”
“I could never draw a steady line. I guess I took after my mother.”
The woman nodded, scratching under her armpit. “No shame in that, boy. Reading and writing is no small thing in these parts. Tell me, how did you feel about your father’s line of work? I mean, being a criminal and all?”
Thomas’ chest tightened, and a surge of anger rushed through him at her words, but she was right. He was a criminal. And it was what had got him killed. He inhaled slowly, calming himself. “He did what was necessary to provide for his family.”
“And you didn’t mind that he was a criminal?”
“I would rather he not have been, but I loved my father, and I miss him dearly. I won’t have anyone speak ill of him.”
Thibault leaned over and patted him on the leg. “Of course, dear.” She paused, eyeing him for a moment. “You know, a young man of your skills could go far if he were willing to bend a rule or two.”
“And break a lot more,” said Sir Marcus’ squire, Jeremy. He gestured toward Thibault while leaning closer to Thomas. “Be careful with this one, Master Thomas. I have a feeling she isn’t the sort your late parents would want you consorting with.”
“Yes,” added Joanne. “Leave the poor boy alone. You’re a terrible influence.”
Thibault frowned, turning her attention to the only lady in the room. “You barely know me, yet you judge me.”
“I know the type.”
Thibault chuckled. “I doubt it, M’Lady. The likes of me rarely frequent the ivory towers the likes of you call home.”
“I’d hardly call it an ivory tower.”
Thibault waved her hand at their surroundings. “Compared to this, I think any in this neighborhood would.”
Joanne frowned, dipping her head slightly. “I will give you that.”
“As you should. When you grow up orphaned in these parts, you find you sometimes are forced to do things you never thought possible.” Thibault sighed. “My late husband and I had no parents. It was how we met. We became a team, picking the pockets of the rich when we had the opportunity. It kept us fed and warm enough. As we got older, my husband organized the street children, and we made a good life for ourselves and the little ones.”
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 9