Le Chevalier

by Mary Jean Adams

  Mont Trignon leveraged a number of sources to stay abreast of developments in the war. Everyone from farmers to shopkeepers to street urchins had a unique perspective, forming a nexus in his information web.

  At the moment, the farmers were the most useful source of information. Armies, both British and American, needed food and lots of it. With supply lines unreliable, most regiments took what they could from local farmers, whether given willingly, or not. In either case, it fueled discussions on market day. Mont Trignon struck up a friendship with more than one farmer’s wife based on his interest in their troubles.

  Depending on whose farm had been raided, as well as who had freely given supplies, he had achieved some success at tracking both armies’ movements and strength.

  However, the information he desired most in the world right now could not be so easily gathered. He would gladly pay double for some small bit of good news about the marquis.

  They reigned in their horses atop a rise overlooking a wide meandering river. In the valley, hundreds of tents sprouted like pale mushrooms in the dewy grass under the light of the moon.

  As they dismounted, a sentry in a wrinkled blue and white linen uniform and crumpled tricorn hat with a black cockade spotted them.

  “Who goes there? Be ye friend or be ye foe?” he demanded. With a wary glance at the four men surrounding him, he added with a faint tremor in his voice. “Speak up now, or I’ll shoot ye where ye stand.” He shook his rifle, emphasizing he could if he wanted to.

  “Friend, mon ami.” Mont Trignon held up his hands, palms facing the man, and replied in a clear voice, heavily accented for good measure. “I am a friend of the Marquis de Lafayette. I heard he was wounded, and I search for him.”

  “Friend of the general’s, are ye?” the man said, thumping the butt of his rifle on the ground as he stood down. “Then you’re a friend of ours. Come join us at our fire.”

  Mont Trignon considered suggesting the sentry not be so quick to trust but decided it would be better to have a word later with Lafayette about his lax security, assuming the marquis still lived, than to question his good fortune now.

  “Stay here and tend the horses,” he told Josh and Beau, and then waved for Reid to follow.

  Reaching the fire, a man of middling years with a lined face and grizzled beard offered Mont Trignon his flask.

  “Merci, mon ami,” Mont Trignon said, accepting the flask and taking a sip of the burning liquid.

  He handed the flask to Reid who gave it a dubious frown but then accepted it and took a swig. Grimacing and choking back a cough, he handed it back to Mont Trignon. The man at the fire chuckled as he accepted his flask again and raised it to his own lips.

  “The marquis, gentleman, do you know where he is?” Mont Trignon asked.

  “Brave man. Very brave man,” said a man sitting on a log on the opposite side of the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Ain’t that so, Joseph?” he asked, turning to the man beside him.

  “Bravest man I ever seen,” agreed Joseph, in a solemn, almost reverent, voice.

  Foreboding smothered Mont Trignon’s hopes.

  “He is here?” he asked, coaxing them toward the information he sought but did not necessarily want to hear.

  “He was shot,” said Joseph.

  “Shot?” Mont Trignon asked, the single word ringing in his head.

  He took a seat at the fire, leaving Reid standing a few paces behind him in the shadows, and accepted another much-needed swallow from the flask.

  “In the leg,” explained Joseph. “Isn’t that right, Isaac?”

  “That it is,” agreed Isaac, with a nod of his bald, flea-bitten head.

  “Does he live?” asked Mont Trignon.

  “You should have seen him,” Isaac said, his voice filled with awe. “Shot in the leg, he insisted his men help him back onto his horse.”

  Reid snorted and shuffled his boots in the dirt.

  “That’s right,” agreed a third man, who had been listening just outside the glow of their campfire. Isaac moved over on his log, so the new man could sit. “And he would have stayed on that saddle except the bleedin’ got worse, and the doctor bade him to withdraw.”

  “And does he live?” Mont Trignon repeated.

  His friend’s bravery did not concern him just now, and he hoped his question might help these men along to the conclusion of their tale.

  “It was something to see, sir,” said Isaac, shaking his head. “Gave us all the courage to keep fighting and give our lives if needs be.”

  “But lucky for us we didn’t need to,” added the man who had just joined. He stroked his bedraggled beard as he considered their good fortune.

  “There’s always tomorrow, Daniel. There’s always tomorrow,” said Isaac.

  All three men stared into the fire, as though it held the awful images of yesterday’s battle.

  Reid snorted and stepped forward. “Is the damned man alive or not?”

  “Oh, yes sir!” answered Daniel. “He’s alive, just not here.”

  “Where’d they take him?” Reid asked, no more polite than before.

  “To a doctor in Bristol, I think,” said Isaac.

  “That’s right, Bristol,” Daniel agreed, with a nod.

  “Thank you kindly, mon ami, for your time and for sharing your drink,” Mont Trignon said, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt and grass from his breeches.

  Before he could complete a formal bow, Reid grasped him by the elbow and pulled him back toward the copse of beech trees where Josh and Beau had tied the horses.

  “Your fancy manners don’t amount to nothin’ out here,” he muttered. “Least ways, not with them.”

  The horses snorted in protest as they remounted. Mont Trignon patted his mare on her tawny neck, and his hand came away covered in perspiration. They would need to change horses soon.

  “Just a little longer,” he whispered in her ear.

  The mare snuffled a response and shook her mane. Mont Trignon patted her again.

  “C’est une bonne fille, a good horse,” he cooed, before digging his heels into her side.

  At break neck speed, they rode through the night toward Bristol, stopping only to change horses. Less worthy, their new mounts lightened Mont Trignon’s purse every bit as much. Still, they were lucky to find a farmer willing to part with them, even at such an exorbitant price.

  They reached the hospital just as the horizon turned from velvet blue to steely gray.

  Despite Reid’s cynicism, Mont Trignon’s French accent and formal manners held considerable sway with the young lieutenant standing guard outside the marquis’s hospital room, and he admitted them with a formal salute.

  The pale-faced marquis lay in bed, his leg bandaged and propped on a mound of pillows. An older man in a powdered wig stood at his bedside. Several inches taller than Mont Trignon, he dwarfed the room in his buff uniform and navy coat. On his shoulders, he wore gold epaulettes, marking him a general. Laying one massive hand on the marquis’s shoulder, he spoke in Lafayette’s ear, setting the marquis to chuckling. The familiar laugh sent waves of relief rushing through Mont Trignon.

  “Mont Trignon!” the marquis exclaimed, meeting Mont Trignon’s gaze, a smile of delight curling his lips. “I am so happy you were able to come.”

  Lafayette winced as he pushed himself up further on the bed, but the look of pain passed, and his jovial face lit with good humor once more.

  “I will see to it you are taken care of,” the older man said, patting the marquis on the shoulder.

  “Merci, General, I am in your debt.”

  The man nodded and turned to take his leave.

  “Gentleman,” he uttered, as he passed them on his way out the door.

  Once the general had gone, Mont Trignon strode to the marquis’s bedside and grasped his elbows in his hands. “How are you, Lafayette?”

  His friend’s uniform hung on his frame, and he had a pronounced pallor made all the more ominous by the pu
rple stains beneath his eyes. But those eyes still shone with the same enthusiasm for life Mont Trignon remembered so well.

  “I am well, mon ami,” the marquis said. “They aimed a bullet at my horse, so I put my leg in the way to protect him.”

  Mont Trignon laughed. “That is so like you to think of others before yourself.”

  He turned to Reid and the Bandys. “Marquis, may I present my companions. Reid Turner, Josh Bandy, and Beau Bandy, all of Philadelphia. Gentlemen, the Marquis de Lafayette.”

  The marquis’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I am pleased to make your acquaintances, sirs.” He surveyed Reid. “Might you be the man who goes by the name of George Smythe?”

  Reid looked at him wide-eyed. “How did you know?”

  The marquis gave an enigmatic smile. “We know a great many things, sir, but your secret is safe with me. Know this too. I am a great fan of your writing. Many a recruit has been brought to our ranks through your efforts. From one patriot to another, I thank you.”

  A blush Mont Trignon did not think possible crept up Reid’s cheeks. The marquis had not lost his power to enchant man and beast.

  Mont Trignon lay a gentle hand on the marquis’s shoulder. “Lafayette, our time is short, and we must return to Philadelphia soon. Tell me, where does the situation stand?”

  “Yes, by all means, return at once. The general still stands between Philadelphia and Howe’s army, although our numbers are greatly reduced, and our supplies are low.” He searched Mont Trignon’s face. “Will you not go back to France and convince His Majesty this is a cause he must support?”

  “Soon, mon ami. I am confident the king will support our friends in America, but there are things I must complete here first.”

  Mont Trignon’s companions regarded him with wide eyes and a look of newfound respect. Lafayette, ever cognizant of the importance of image, had made it appear Mont Trignon had King Louis’ ear. It would be more precise to say Mont Trignon’s father had the King’s ear, and he had his father’s.

  “I have sent word to my father, letting him know what I have learned. Even as we speak, I am certain he is making our case to the King.”

  “Très bon. I am confident in the persuasive skills of your father. Aid may already be on its way.” He lay back against the pillows, a mischievous smile on his lips. “But this thing you speak of that you must still do…Does it have anything to do with the challenge you set for yourself our first evening in Philadelphia?”

  “Oui.” Mont Trignon could not hide his grin.

  His friend would always find a way to return the topic to women. Aside from a grand cause, it was the thing he loved the most.

  “Then I wish you every success, and may I add, it brings my heart joy to hear you have found the goal worthy.”

  The marquis and Mont Trignon had years of practice speaking in code, and they understood each other with little effort. But judging by Reid Turner’s placid face, he had no idea his sister was the goal to which they referred.

  “But keep your eyes and ears open,” the marquis said, turning serious. “There are spies everywhere. We had the superior position, and Howe could not have bested us without information.

  “And above all else, be ready to flee with those you love if we are unable to hold the line.” He wrinkled his nose. “I do not trust what those swine will do to the city should she fall into their hands.”

  Mont Trignon turned to his companions. “I would like a moment alone with the marquis.”

  It would have been easy for their discussion to lapse into French, and the idea that Reid, Josh or Beau might be a British agent was almost as ridiculous as the idea that any of them spoke French. Still, his training as a spy had taught him to take every precaution available.

  “How is Adrienne?” he asked, as the men filed out the door.

  The marquis gave a heartfelt sigh. “My dear wife. How I miss her. I have written to her of this new country and how much she would love it here. She is a saint, and I do not deserve her.”

  Mont Trignon laughed. He had met Adrienne many times, and he knew the marquis was right on both counts. He also knew the marquis loved his young wife, and despite his reputation as an incorrigible flirt, he sometimes wondered if the marquis had not remained faithful.

  “Now what have you not told me, mon ami?” he asked the marquis, as soon as they were alone.

  “I have told you all I can be assured of.” He ran a covert gaze about the room before leaning closer. “But there is much we suspect. I wonder if we might prevail upon you to keep watch over a Colonel Montgomery? He and his troops are stationed in Philadelphia. You might remember the man from the assembly we attended our first night in the city.”

  “I do indeed. As a matter of fact, I have endeavored to learn what more I could about him. He struck me as having an unusual bearing from the first.”

  A doctor dressed from head to toe in white linen came in bearing a tray with a bowl and several sharp instruments. The marquis waved the man off with a grimace.

  “At least he didn’t have his leeches this time,” he said, when the man closed the door behind him. Then he lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Have you discovered anything significant about the colonel?”

  “No, nothing that raised an alarm. However, now that I know he is under suspicion, I shall take steps to see what more I can discover. Why do you suspect him?”

  “There are very few who knew of our plans. He was one. I can personally vouch for the rest, so…” He shifted on the bed, fatigue showing on his face. “The cleverest men sometimes wear a foolish mask.”

  “Bien sûr,” Mont Trignon agreed.

  ****

  Mont Trignon found Beau and Josh leaning against a maple tree while Reid stood a few feet away, wearing a sullen frown.

  “We should be going.” Mont Trignon untied the reins of his dappled gelding.

  The horse whinnied in protest as Mont Trignon pulled him from the tufts of dry grass he had been enjoying.

  Reid and Beau eyed Josh.

  Josh gave them a defiant glance before turning to Mont Trignon. “Well, sir, I don’t think I will be coming back with you.” He looked down at the toes of his scuffed boots. “I’m going to stay here and enlist.”

  “I see,” replied Mont Trignon, unsurprised.

  The marquis often had that effect on men, so it was not a surprise when three minutes in his presence had ignited the young man’s patriotic passions.

  “Beau, I need you take care of Molly for me.” He grasped his brother’s shoulder. “But don’t steal her from me, you hear!”

  Beau shook his shoulder loose. “I can’t take care of her. I’m staying too.”

  Josh’s slack jaw told Mont Trignon Beau’s decision came as a surprise.

  The two brothers exchanged glances, a whirlwind of unspoken words passing between them. When they turned their eyes on him, he knew an understanding had been reached.

  “I promise you, gentlemen, I will see to her safety. She will be heartbroken, but she will be well taken care of.” Mont Trignon shook each of their hands in turn.

  “She won’t be heart-broken when I come back a man worthy of her affections.” Josh stood just a little bit straighter than before.

  “Of that I am certain,” Mont Trignon said, hiding his smile.

  Nobility often came in the most unlikely guise.

  ****

  By the time Reid and Mont Trignon bid farewell to the Bandys, the morning sun had risen above distant hills, turning the mist in the valley below to silver. An early chill nipped at cheek and nose as they remounted and left the army camp behind.

  Mont Trignon reached behind him to take his gloves out of his saddlebag and rubbed his hands together to warm them before he put them on.

  He and Reid set a more moderate pace as they rode in silence along the trail back to Philadelphia. Mont Trignon led the way, reflecting on how he and the marquis had held the same mistrust of Colonel Montgomery.

  But, unlike the m
arquis, Mont Trignon had discounted the colonel as an effective spy. The man seemed loyal to his country and, more to the point, not very clever. But, the marquis had been correct. In the history of warfare, more than one spy disguised himself as a fool.

  The sun rose higher, wrapping them in golden light. It soaked through his blue jacket, warming his shoulders and lulling Mont Trignon until awareness of his surroundings faded.

  The horse trail meandered through a copse of trees already shedding their leaves. Morning light filtered through a canopy alive with colors from russet to scarlet red. Their horses’ hooves crunched and churned fallen, dew covered leaves, kicking up an earthy smell reminiscent of Mont Trignon’s early morning rides on the trails of his parents’ estate.

  A pang of homesickness hit him, and he forced his thoughts back to his discussion with the marquis.

  Colonel Montgomery made an unlikely traitor, but if not him, then who?

  Angelina’s regal face with her dark, almond-shaped eyes came to mind. Angelina, whose exotic beauty and elegance were wasted on a man like Montgomery. She tried to make others believe she loved him for his money, but from their first meeting, Mont Trignon knew more cunning than greed lay behind those dark eyes.

  Of course, the people of Philadelphia believed it easily enough. Women often assumed the worst of her, spreading their venomous gossip to husbands who had more sense than to dispute their wives’ opinion of a beautiful woman.

  Mont Trignon knew Angelina had heard the rumors. He had seen Madame Montgomery herself speak of her dislike for her son’s lady friend, while pretending not to realize Angelina was within earshot.

  He scowled. More than once he had caught a brief flash of pain in Angelina’s eyes before her mask of haughty indifference fell again.

  His heart went out to her for whatever circumstance had forced her to pretend to enjoy the attentions of a dullard like Montgomery, especially when she loved another.

  Mont Trignon lifted a low hanging branch as he passed underneath. He let it drop behind him, and it sprung back and misted Reid with droplets of cold morning dew.