The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “Notes from Lord Charles. I’d like you to go through the list and indicate any of the men you remember being injured, who might have required a cane, and if they had any associations with foreign governments.”

  Denys took a seat behind his desk, grabbing a quill and dipping it in ink. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “We think the man involved required a cane after the accident, but no longer does.”

  “Huh. Give me a moment.” He quickly scanned the list, adding only two checks, and no notes. “It looks like Lord Charles’ was very thorough. I agree with everything he indicated, and I think he only missed a few, though I too could have missed some. It was a tragedy of immense proportions, I tell you. So many injured, and so many badly. I was lucky to escape with my life, what with being relegated to the back row with the highest possible drop. As soon as I felt it begin to collapse, I leaped to the ground and was able to roll out of the way. I still landed on my hip, bruising it horribly. I don’t think I walked properly for weeks.” He handed the pages back. “Was that all you required?”

  Marcus stuffed the pages out of sight, and retrieved the letter he had procured from Charles. “One more thing, if you would. Can you please read this, and tell me if you notice anything?” He handed Denys the letter, the man’s eyes widening as he read the contents. “So, this is what would have me condemned.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing seems unusual, though you will have noticed the writer is left-handed.”

  Marcus leaned forward, examining the letter. “Why, I suppose he is. Perhaps, though, he is trying to make us think he is.”

  Denys shook his head, pointing at the writing. “This is a practiced hand. It is difficult to fake writing with the other hand. I myself am left-handed, but my parents were fastidious about making sure I was cured of that ailment. Now, after much practice, I can write equally well with both hands.”

  Simon grunted. “Then perhaps you wrote this.”

  Denys laughed, holding out his arms, his wrists pressed together as if awaiting irons. “Yes, arrest me now! I revealed myself to the husband of my lover, who in fact wasn’t her husband at all!” Gloom replaced the laughter. “I’m sorry, but I still can’t believe what is happening. I just received word that the women have all confessed to their affairs, which means their situations are different than mine, since we all now agree that Lady Joanne is innocent, despite being named in the same breath as the others. Why should she alone be innocent, while none of the others were?”

  “Perhaps they were tortured into false confessions,” suggested Marcus.

  Denys paled slightly. “Unfortunately, a contact of mine has confirmed they were tortured. Thank God you were able to hide Lady Joanne, otherwise she too would have been.”

  Marcus nodded. “Do we know yet who their partners were in their adultery?”

  Denys leaped from his chair, tossing the letter back on his desk. “Yes, as a matter of fact!” He shook his head, pacing back and forth behind his desk. “And this is the most troubling thing! This morning, three young men, quite dashing and eloquent, if what I have been told is correct, presented themselves to the Court, claiming they had been paid by the husbands to seduce their wives, in the hopes they may produce male heirs! Can you believe such a thing!”

  Marcus had to admit he didn’t. It was a fantastic idea, though under French law, if a man died without a male heir, the consequences could be horrific for what remained of his family. “I must admit, Sir Denys, that this comes as quite the shock.”

  Denys’ head bobbed vigorously. “To me as well! It hadn’t occurred to me until I heard it, that these three men had no male heirs, only daughters, or no children at all! According to the message I received, their husbands had discussed it among themselves, after a friend had died at the stage collapse, leaving no male heir. His wife and daughters now have had to rely upon the charity of others since, much of their estate seized to pay debts, and with her husband’s title lost, so were his taxable estates. These men decided they didn’t want their wives to face such a fate, so embarked upon this unholy exercise in the hopes of avoiding any future horrors.”

  Denys dropped back into his chair, and Marcus took up the pacing in front of the desk, his jaw clenched, absorbing everything said. Could they have been wrong about everything? Was there no conspiracy involving the German King to force France and Flanders into war, but instead, this was all an exercise in dealing with the lack of male heirs to inherit the titles of their fathers?

  Though why just these three men? And why were they all in favor of the treaty? Was that just a coincidence?

  No, perhaps not. It would make sense that like-minded men would associate, and would be friends. They could discuss their shared problems, and the tragedy of the stage collapse could indeed have triggered such discussions. Yet to take it to the extreme of soliciting young men to bed their wives?

  He knew nothing of women, of marriage, or of love. Perhaps these things were possible, though he thought it preposterous. He looked at Denys. “Do you believe their story?”

  Denys shrugged. “I can see no reason for them to lie. These men are going to die horrible deaths should the King order it. They have committed a crime, and a sin. In fact, the husbands too could be punished. I think it is safe to say that their days as members of the Court are numbered. The very notion that one would engage in such an undertaking boggles the mind.”

  “I’m glad to see I’m not the only one shocked about this.” Marcus paused. “Does Lord Charles have a son?”

  Denys thought for a moment. “Not that I’m aware of, but if they wanted to implicate him in the same affair, why wouldn’t they just have a fourth man confess? Why employ an imposter and involve me?” He shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

  Marcus frowned. “I agree, it does make no sense, unless they are lying, which again, has dire consequences for them.”

  Denys shifted in his chair. “I can’t see why they would. They face certain death. And even if they are, why drag Lord Charles into it?” He paused, raising a finger. “Wait. We’re forgetting that I met my Lady Joanne two months ago, and the stage collapse was only three months ago. Is it even possible for someone to have caught wind of this plan, and moved that quickly to try and implicate Lord Charles? The timing doesn’t seem to make sense to me.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “That’s true, sir. And Mrs. Thibault said that she had been hired to train Miss Girard three months ago. They can’t be related. There’s just not enough time.”

  Marcus agreed with his sergeant’s assessment. “Yes, though perhaps someone caught wind of what these men were up to, and decided to take advantage of it after the fact.” He looked at Denys. “Have the husbands responded yet to these accusations?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, however, I suspect they’ll be arrested soon.”

  “Do you know them well enough that they might take a meeting with you?”

  Denys tapped his chin for a moment. “On any other day, I would say yes, but today? With all that is happening? I’d be surprised.” He eyed Marcus, a smile spreading. “But with you at my side, I hardly think any would say no.”

  Marcus headed for the door. “Then with all due haste, we must meet with at least one of these men before they are arrested, and perhaps silenced permanently.”

  39

  Durant Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  Someone knocked on the door, silencing those gathered in Thomas Durant’s father’s storefront. David rose, drawing his sword, as Jeremy did the same, taking a hold of Tanya’s collar as she growled.

  “Who could that be?” asked David of no one in particular.

  “Is that you, Enzo?” called Simone Thibault, struggling to her feet.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Let him in, let him in!”

  David glared at her. “Who the hell is that?”

  “One of my men. He’s harmless. Let him in before he raises a fuss and draws attention
.”

  Rage raced through David, but he had no choice, Enzo, whoever he was, pounding on the door again. He opened it, his eyes bulging at the massive wall of muscle filling the doorway.

  “Get inside, get inside!” urged Thibault, clearly pleased to see the man. He crouched, entering, as David quickly closed the door, peering out through the cracks in one of the boarded-up windows. “How did you find us?”

  “I got the mistress’ message.”

  David’s jaw dropped as the room erupted in anger, all of it aimed at Thibault. “What is he talking about?”

  Thibault seemed unconcerned with the vitriol aimed her way. “I sent for him this morning.”

  “When?”

  “When I went to the bathroom.”

  David stared at a horrified Jeremy. “I-I’m sorry, she tricked me!”

  But there was no time for blame. David stared at Enzo. “Were you followed?”

  “Of course not.”

  David peered out the window, examining the crowds passing, and spotted a man across the street, lurking in the shadows, staring at their hideout. “You were.” He cursed, throwing up his hands. “Now what are we going to do?”

  Jeremy rushed forward, looking out the window himself. “If it’s only him, then he won’t report back until he’s confirmed she’s here.”

  David agreed. “Right, but how long will he wait? Eventually, he’s going to report back and at least relay his suspicions.” He jabbed a finger at Thibault. “Thanks to you, we’re no longer safe here, and we have nowhere to go! Why would you do such a thing? Why would you send for him?”

  Thibault shrugged. “I’m sick and tired of living like a prisoner and a peasant. I wanted him to fetch some of my things.”

  Lady Joanne gasped. “Of all the selfish things! I’m not used to living like this either, but do you see me complaining? One must make due under such circumstances! Sir Marcus and Simon are out there risking their lives for us, and they trusted all of us to do nothing that could put us at risk!”

  David took another look, the man still across the street, still staring at the shop. “He’s still there, and he’s definitely watching the place.” He frowned. “We have no choice but to try and eliminate him, but if he gets away, or has an accomplice, or has already sent word back to his master, our time here is finished.”

  Joanne rose. “I don’t think we have a choice. We have to go to my husband, and pray he’ll take us in. He knows I’m innocent. I can’t see him saying no.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Sir Marcus didn’t want us to do that, but I don’t see that we have a choice either. At least there, we should be able to get word to Sir Marcus for instructions.”

  David’s chest was tight, not used to having such decisions thrust upon him, but he had been left in charge, and now he had to manage the situation. He looked around the room, shaking his head. “There are six of us, and we have three horses. We’ll have to double-up.”

  “That’ll make for a sight,” muttered Jeremy.

  Thomas shook his head. “Not in these parts, but you’re right, once we enter your part of the city, M’Lady, we will stand out.”

  Jeremy started gathering their things. “At that point, we can dismount and walk the horses with the ladies.”

  David shook his head. “Then it would be open season on us. We must make all haste.” He pointed at Thibault. “This is your doing. Give Master Thomas some money so he can hire us three more horses.”

  She glared at him for a moment before finally acquiescing, fishing several coins from her purse and handing them to Thomas.

  “Make it quick!” said David, and Thomas bolted toward the front door. David caught him before he could open it. “Go out the back, and bring them there. We don’t want whoever’s watching to see anything in the front.”

  Thomas nodded. “Y-yes.” He headed out the back, the door slamming shut a moment later.

  Thibault sat in one of the two chairs. “There, problem solved. We’ll have six horses, and we can move swiftly to safety.”

  David shook his head. “We’ll be followed, and perhaps intercepted.”

  She batted her hand at his statement. “We’ll ride hard and fast.”

  David laughed. “Forgive me, but other than myself and David, none of you are experienced enough on a horse to ride in such a way.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Yes, I would be. We’ve been riding for over a decade in battle, you haven’t. Racing a horse through the streets of a city, with people in the way, is no easy task, especially when one’s attention is divided by the road ahead, and possible pursuers behind.”

  Jeremy stared out the window. “We need to deal with our problem first, and before Thomas returns.”

  David looked at him. “What do you propose?”

  Jeremy sighed. “I can think of only one thing, but if we’re wrong, and this is just some innocent man waiting for someone, it would be murder.”

  Joanne stepped forward, wringing her hands. “Is there any way we can be sure?”

  David shrugged. “Challenge him?”

  Jeremy eyed him. “What do you mean?”

  David pointed at his bow on the table. “You get on the roof, and I’ll go outside and ask what his business is. If he has a reasonable answer, I’ll return. If he doesn’t, I’ll signal you.”

  Jeremy pursed his lips then nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Then let’s make haste, there isn’t a moment to lose.”

  40

  En Route to Lord Gaspard de Laval’s Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  Marcus, Simon, and Sir Denys rode swiftly to the home of the nearest husband now accused of involvement in the troubling plot of ensuring a male heir. The very notion disgusted Marcus, and he still couldn’t believe what he had been told. Denys had shown him the letter as they waited for his horse to be fetched, confirming all the sordid details.

  It was stunning.

  Yet still didn’t explain why Lord Charles and his wife Joanne, along with her purported lover, Sir Denys, were involved.

  There were three men who had come forward, not four, and the wives had confessed to the affairs, apparently under torture.

  He was convinced something else was going on, perhaps having attached itself to another scandal out of convenience.

  Denys pointed ahead. “This is it!”

  They slowed as they approached the gate, and after a few moments, were allowed entry and led to Lord Gaspard’s office. They were announced, then barely acknowledged by the man who appeared to be in a near panic as he searched his desk for something.

  Denys stepped forward. “Lord Gaspard, I’m sorry to disturb you at this desperate time, however these men have questions for you that could help them resolve this situation in your favor.”

  This brought Gaspard to a halt, and he finally looked up at them, his eyes coming to rest on the bright red of the cross emblazoned on Marcus’ surcoat. “A Templar knight.” He shook his head. “You’re the only reason I agreed to see you. Make it quick, they’ll be here any minute.” He dropped back into his chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Have you heard what these heathens have accused me of?”

  Marcus stepped forward. “Then it isn’t true?”

  “Of course it isn’t!” Gaspard stared at Marcus, his eyes narrowing. “What business is this of the Templars?”

  Marcus bowed. “I am Sir Marcus de Rancourt, cousin of the Lady Joanne de Rohan. She has asked me to act on her behalf in these matters.”

  Gaspard nodded slowly. “That’s right, she’s mixed up in this thing too.” He bolted forward in his chair, jabbing a finger at his desk. “This entire thing is nonsense! I have a male heir!”

  Denys’ eyebrows shot up. “You do? I thought you had no children.”

  “I don’t, but I have a younger brother. He’ll inherit if I die, and we are on excellent terms. There’s no risk to my wife of losing her standing. He will inherit my title, and he has thre
e sons of his own to continue the family line and care for my wife and daughters. This entire thing is preposterous!”

  Marcus processed this new information. Surely if someone were indeed manipulating this affair, they would have known this fact. “Was this publicly known?”

  Gaspard shrugged. “I don’t know. He lives up north, and we rarely see each other, though we correspond regularly. It’s not a secret, though not really discussed, so perhaps not.”

  “And what of the others? Do they have heirs?”

  Gaspard paused. “Well, Lord Olivier, I’m not sure. I know both he and Lord Jean have no sons, but I think Lord Jean has a brother, though I can’t be certain.” He threw up his hands. “These things aren’t exactly a topic of conversation. When we converse, it is of the affairs of state, not who would inherit our estates should we meet an untimely demise!”

  Marcus nodded. “What will you do?”

  Gaspard grabbed at the back of his neck with his hand, squeezing. “Throw myself on the mercy of the Court, I suppose. I can think of nothing else.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t telling them what you just told us clear your good name?”

  Gaspard exploded, his cheeks burning red. “You daft fool! Don’t you realize what is going on here? We’re being set up by someone! They’ve manufactured evidence against us to destroy us. Just this morning I received word that my wife has already signed a confession, admitting to the affair, and that it was sanctioned by me in the hopes of having a son, so it would be my lineage that would continue the family name, and not my brother’s! They’ve thought of everything!”

  Marcus frowned at this revelation. It would appear that those involved did know Gaspard had a male heir, and were using the excuse of lineage instead. Yet none of this explained Lady Joanne’s involvement.

  Denys rubbed his chin. “Yes, but who are they?”

  “If I knew, do you not think I’d tell you?”

  Marcus returned to Lord Victor’s theory. “What about the truce?”