The Noble Mercenary

by Patrick John Donahoe

  “The difficult work and hard life we’ve had in the Outremer desert have been good to us, Papa.”

  “Come, let us rejoice. My sons are home, all is well. We will have a glorious welcome home dinner tonight. You will be able to meet Rosemarie’s fiancé.”

  Rosemarie ran into the foyer and jumped up into Jacques’ arms almost knocking him down. Ian caught the two before Jacques fell backwards in his armor.

  “My brother, you look like the devil himself with that beard and mustache,” Rosemarie taunted.

  She jumped down and faced Ian, “I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you,” she said with her hands on her hips and a pout on her face. Then without warning she kissed Ian on the lips, a quick no commitment kiss.

  Behind her, a young man dressed like an officer of the law in leather breeches, straight cut shirt, string tie and leather vest, mumbled, “Ahem,” to attract Rosemarie’s attention.

  “I’m sorry,” Rosemarie said, mostly to Ian, “this is my fiancé, Jean Fontaine, the Deputy Sheriff of Toulon.”

  Ian offered his hand and Jean hesitated before returning a flaccid handshake. Ian looked into Jean’s eyes and detected something awry in Jean’s inability or unwillingness to return the eye contact. Jean did not present himself as a Deputy Sheriff, but as a snob, and a man with something to hide. Ian’s impression was that Jean had a dark side attributed to dishonesty, immorality or both. Ian’s first impressions were usually spot on.

  That evening at supper, Jacques studied the faces of the dinner group. He saw his father as the grand old man that he was, even though his health was failing. His mother doted on his father, obviously worried that she might lose him one day soon. She was not aging gracefully. She overdid her makeup and dress in an attempt to shave years off of her appearance. Rosemarie, his perky, intelligent, and witty sister, may be in peril of losing her soul with a knave like Jean Fontaine. Jean, a second son, had hired himself out to be the Deputy Sheriff in Toulon, but there was something shifty about his eyes and his attitude. Jacques couldn’t put his finger on the problem, but he did not trust Jean. He seemed to be helpful around the estate, but Jacques would have to ask Louis his opinion of the man. Louis was an excellent judge of character.

  Esmeralda seemed content with her husband, Peter Le Cuers, the only son of the Earl of Le Cuers and heir to his title. The Le Cuers family owned a small estate between Luc’s estate and Toulon. Peter was amiable enough, but his fortunes were slim. His father had felt that being an Earl was enough, and had not prepared for the future. It was beneath him, an Earl, to farm his estate, or operate any kind of business.

  Peter, fortunately, aspired to becoming the Bank President for the Bank of Toulon. Currently, he was on staff at the bank, and although he did not make a large salary, he could support Esmeralda with a few nice things and still live on the non-productive estate. Although his father had passed away a year ago, Peter eschewed the title of Earl as too haughty for a working man. A positive indication to Jacques that he might be worth Esmeralda’s hand.

  Peter took his carriage home so that he might retire early. He had a large loan to negotiate in the morning at the Bank, so he left Esmeralda to secure a ride home from Louis, or Jacques. Peter had no reason to be jealous of Jacques, the returned knight, since Esmeralda and Jacques had been only cordial to each other the entire evening, and Esmeralda had insisted on visiting the family for a while longer.

  On the way to the Le Cuers’ estate, Jacques said, “Esmeralda, you have become quite the woman these past four years. You are more beautiful now than when we left. How are you and the Earl doing?”

  “Peter does not like to be called ‘Earl.’ We get along fine, and I am pregnant with his child.”

  “And you already have one child.”

  “Yes, but Roland is not his.”

  “Whose then?”

  “Yours of course, you big buffoon. I knew I was pregnant with your child the last time we made love. A few days before you left.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “You had your heart set on being a knight Crusader. Had I kept you back you would have hated me and your child. This way Roland has a loving father and a good provider.”

  “And the Earl, I mean Peter, does not know, or suspect?”

  “No, he had been pursuing me for some time. You barely said goodbye the day you left, so I let Peter have his way with me that night.”

  “Then how can you be so sure Roland is indeed my child?”

  “I know, and if you get to spend some time with him, you will know also, but you can never let on. The Earl might treat him differently if he found out. We’re a happy family and I want to keep it that way, unless, perhaps, you’re planning to remain here and not return to Jerusalem.”

  Ian studied Jean Fontaine’s speech and mannerisms during supper. He tried to convince himself that his negative impression of Jean was pure, and not biased because of jealousy. After supper, Ian approached Rosemarie for a private conversation, and asked, “Could you and Jean join me for a picnic in the meadow tomorrow. I would like to get better acquainted with your future potential fiancée.”

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you,” Rosemarie teased, hoping that was the case.

  “Of course I am, you delicious little dumpling,” he taunted back, “but seriously, I would like to get to know him better.”

  “So you can tell me why I shouldn’t consider him as a possibility?”

  “That, and so I can tell him I will lop off his manhood if he ever does anything to hurt you.”

  “You are such a knight, sir knight.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

  “And I always will be.”

  “The three of us can’t picnic tomorrow. He has an assignment tomorrow to guard a wine merchant coming to town to purchase wine for export. You and I could picnic though.”

  Ian considered his response. “I remember our picnics, and would love to, but I really should take care of another errand tomorrow. Another day?”

  Rosemarie’s countenance fell, but she restrained herself, and replied, “Yes. . . soon I hope.”

  Ian could tell she held back releasing tears.

  Jean approached the pair, and said, “Ian, you had your chance with Rosemarie and threw it away, so don’t try to steal my girl.”

  “Or?” Ian asked, not intimidated by the smug Jean.

  “Or, I’ll have you arrested.” Jean said with deviousness in his eyes and a smirk.

  Ian recognized Jean as a hateful foe; someone who would bully and try to control Rosemarie, if given half the chance.

  “Let’s go Rosemarie, this conversation is over.” Jean grabbed Rosemarie’s arm and pulled her away.

  “Rosemarie, do you want to go with him?”

  Rosemarie turned and said, “I’m fine. Don’t do anything rash.”

  If he wasn’t a guest in Luc’s home, Ian would take Jean to task, but he would not cause a scene just now, not right after his and Jacques’ welcome home dinner. He thought, Rosemarie must realize what a poor match Jean would make. She must not have counseled with Gabrielle and Luc before allowing the relationship to get this far, but now that I’m here, I’ll try to correct the situation.

  Ian approached Luc, who was enjoying a large glass of his favorite wine, and asked, “What can you tell me about the robbery last month?”

  “Why are you curious about a robbery?” Luc asked. He studied Ian’s face as he sipped his wine.

  “Just curiosity.”

  “I see. Once a knight, always a knight.”

  “Something like that.”

  Luc’s festive expression turned serious. In a low voice and confidential tone, he said, “Jean and one of his hired men were supposed to guard a merchantman carrying a large amount of cash, jewels, and precious metals to Toulon. Jean claimed that the merchantman provided him with the wrong date, so he did not guard the man as requested. The man had pressing business, so he traveled alone, and was robbed and killed.”

&
nbsp; “Did Jean, or the Sheriff, investigate the robbery? Were any suspects arrested?”

  “No, the robbers were never apprehended.”

  “Did Jean explain where he was at the time the merchantman was robbed?”

  “As the Deputy Sheriff, no one deemed it necessary to question Jean’s whereabouts. Why, do you think he was involved?”

  “Oh no, it just seems odd that he would confuse the dates, leaving the merchant unguarded, and the merchant was robbed and killed. Maybe just coincidence.”

  “Jean seems like a nice young man. No one would suspect him of being a highwayman and a murderer,” Luc replied as an affirmation, but not as though he believed what he said.

  “You’re right. Why would anyone suspect a Deputy Sheriff? We have had our run-ins with highwaymen in the past. Maybe Jacques and I could be of some help before we leave.”

  “Please don’t spend all your time being a hero. Spend your time with Gabrielle and Rosemarie, and myself.”

  “I will father. I will.” Ian hugged Luc almost causing him to spill the last of his wine, put his arm around Luc’s shoulder, and said, “Let’s refill your glass and get a fresh glass for me and talk of old times.”

  Later that evening Ian walked out to Louis’ cabin near the blacksmith shop, and knocked on the door.

  Louis opened the door already dressed in his nightgown and cap. “Come in, I’ve been expecting you.” He pointed to the quilt covered chair by the fireplace, and said, “Have a seat.”

  Ian sat and watched as Louis poured two fingers of brandy each for himself and Ian, and handed one of the goblets to Ian.

  “You want to ask me about Jean Fontaine.” Louis’ ability to size up a man was still uncannily perceptive. He swished the brandy in his goblet, sniffed the aroma, and quaffed an un-Frenchman-like swallow of the strong liquor.

  Undaunted by Louis’ prescience, Ian asked, “What’s your assessment of the man?”

  Louis settled back in his chair, and replied, “Finding a suitable husband for Rosemarie is a challenge, since you seem to be out of the picture,” Louis paused for effect, “the appropriate level of status, the matching of ages, and melding of holdings are all a tricky matter. Jean Fontaine, a second son, has chosen to become a Deputy Sheriff for Toulon with the hopes of higher political office, that is, Sheriff, then perhaps Deputy Mayor, then Mayor, and so forth up the ladder of respectability. Currently, his honest income will not support a grand life style, so he is sponging off his family until he can rise up enough politically and financially to stand on his own.”

  “There is a darkness to him. I don’t want him to court Rosemarie. I don’t say this as a suitor with romantic feelings for her, but as a family member who loves her as a brother, and am concerned for her happiness,” said Ian.

  “I see something wrong with his character as well. Having him as a Deputy Sheriff seems like hiring the fox to guard the henhouse,” added Louis.

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “Drink up.” Louis drained his brandy goblet and went to his liquor cabinet to refill his and Ian’s goblets.

  Ian and Louis finished the bottle of brandy between them and exchanged stories of the events of the previous four years, stories Ian felt comfortable sharing with Louis, but not the rest of the family. Ian learned that Luc had told Louis he could retire when Jacques finally returned from his adventures, and live on the estate for the rest of his days as one of the family. Louis agreed to stay on as part of the family, but refused to stop working. The two civilized gentlemen agreed to disagree. To Ian, Louis, who never held a high station, was ever as much of a gentleman as any gentleman he had ever met.

  Before daybreak the next day, Ian and Jacques rode to the place along the road to Toulon where the robbery had taken place the month before. Ian, suspecting that Jean was a liar and a thief, decided he and Jacques would stake out the previous robbery location from behind a large boulder. Shortly after sunrise they watched a wealthy merchant from Marseille approach with Jean, acting as Deputy Sheriff, and two hired guards.

  Two robbers raced hell bent from the cover of the trees and attacked the merchant’s party. Jacques started to rush to their aid, but Ian restrained him, and said, “Hold back, brother, I am curious to observe a moment longer.”

  As they continued to watch, instead of Jean interceding between the merchant and the robbers, Jean turned on one of his own hired guards and stabbed him in the chest with his sword.

  Confused by this turn of events, the merchant whipped his horse’s flanks and tried to escape. One of the robbers pursued the merchant. The other robber engaged the second hired guard.

  “Now!” Ian slapped his horse on the right flank and pursued the robber who was pursuing the frightened merchant at a full gallop.

  Jacques joined in the fray to help the second hired guard in his battle against his sister’s potential fiancé and the second robber.

  Ian spurred his horse on to run faster and faster, and closed the gap between himself and the first robber to within scimitar reach. Ian struck the robber one fell blow with the side of his sword on the back and knocked him off his horse. Ian stopped his horse and backed up to the robber, who had jumped to his feet. Ian rapped the robber on the head with the flat of his sword knocking him to the ground. “Stay down,” Ian ordered. The man lay still, unconscious, but not dead.

  The merchant continued to run away.

  Ian rode back to where Jacques and the second guard were now battling the second robber, and Jean. The second robber slashed the second guard’s arm and knocked him to the ground. The second robber reared up his horse to have it tromp the second guard with his hooves, but Ian charged the second robber.

  The second robber turned to face Ian, but too late, Ian cut him down with one swift brutal slash of his scimitar. Ian jumped down off his horse to tend to the second guard. He examined the man and found his neck had been broken when he fell from his horse. He remounted and observed Jacque’s one on one battle with Jean.

  Jacques, meanwhile, was furiously engaged with Jean, their swords ringing and scraping with each clashing blow. Jacques was the better swordsman, but he knew if he killed Jean, Rosemarie would never forgive him, even if he was an evil man, so Jacques held his ground against Jean hoping to wear him down enough for Jean to give up.

  Ian had no concern about killing Jean, but since he had the opportunity to approach Jean from behind, he opted to whack Jean on the head with the flat of his scimitar. Jean fell to the ground unconscious, but not dead.

  “Was the Deputy a robber, too?” Ian heard a voice behind him. Ian turned his horse to see the merchant watching from behind a tree.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. He had us all fooled.”

  Jacques dismounted and strode over to Jean. He knelt down beside him. There was a small trickle of blood dripping down the side of Jean’s face. “Throw me a length of rope,” he called out to Ian.

  Ian extracted a short length of rope from his saddle pouch. He handed the rope to Jacques and Jacques tied Jean’s hands behind his back, tight, and slapped him in the face.

  Jean came around, groggy from the whack on the head. “What are you doing?”

  “I should be bashing your skull in, but instead I’m arresting you for robbery and murder,” Jacques stated with venom in his voice.

  “You can’t arrest me. I’m the Deputy Sheriff.”

  “Yes I can. You and your henchmen were going to rob this merchant. We saw you kill one of your own guards, and attempt to kill your other guard. The merchant you were supposed to protect saw everything, and will testify against you in court. We will see you guillotined in Toulon Square within the month.”

  Ian and Jacques trussed Jean and the semi-conscious robber up with lengths of rope and tied them down like sacks of meal to their own horses. Ian also tied the two dead guards, who were not involved in the robbery, and the dead robber to their horses.

  Ian addressed the merchant, “We need you to accompany us to Toulo
n where you can make a statement to the local magistrate.”

  “Will you escort me to the bank first? The Deputy and his men were supposed to escort me to the bank, not rob me.”

  “Yes, sir, then you can submit your statement.”

  “I will be obliged to do so.”

  “By the way, what is your name?”

  “I am Johannes Kamp, sir. I thank you for saving my life today.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  Ian and Jacques rode into Toulon leading the prisoners’ and dead men’s horses, with the merchant following. The bank was preparing to close for the day, but the banker, Peter Cuers, Esmeralda’s husband, made an exception for Mr. Kamp. Once the merchant’s bank business was concluded, the group rode to the Sheriff’s office. Ian and Jacques turned the two prisoners and the three dead men over to the Sheriff.

  Mr. Kamp told the Sheriff what happened and wrote out his statement, then Ian and Jacques appended their witness to Kamp’s statement.

  On the road back to the estate, Ian asked, “What are you going to tell Rosemarie?”

  “The truth. Her fiancé is a rascal, and will probably go under the guillotine in short order.”

  “I sensed something was not right when I first laid eyes on him.”

  “You should always trust your instincts, my brother. They’re seldom wrong.”

  Ian and Jacques tried to make their arrival at the estate as low key as possible, hoping they could tell Luc what had transpired before they encountered Rosemarie. But, bad news travels fast. Rosemarie was awaiting their arrival. No sooner had they entered the stables, still mounted on their horses, when Rosemarie ran up to them and demanded, “What happened on the road this morning!”

  Jacques dismounted, and replied, “I’m sorry sister, but Jean Fontaine is a highwayman pretending to be a Deputy Sheriff.”