by K. T. Tomb
When he passed the waiter to pull out Chyna’s chair, Tony slipped him a ten pound note, which made the man beam with delight. They nodded courteously to the woman at the neighboring table as they exited the restaurant. She returned the gesture and promptly returned to sipping her glass of wine.
The Gulfstream G650 jet was certainly an extension of the immense luxury that Chyna and Tony had experienced in the departure lounge. The spacious eight passenger cabin was way more than the two of them could occupy and the clean, white leather interior just spoke of all kinds of opulence. After takeoff, the two curled up on the large couch and napped off their large meal, sleeping soundly until the pilot announced their descent into Bristol Airport.
Being a domestic flight, there was no airport bureaucracy to deal with, and the couple found themselves on the outside on the concourse in no time.
As if knowing they would have been suitably impressed up to that point, Sir Robert had a uniformed driver waiting at the curb holding a monogrammed sign with their names neatly printed on it. He was standing in front of a black Rolls Royce Phantom. Tony let out a low whistle and tried to contain his facial expression so as not to give his awe away to the chauffeur. He walked up to the man and extended his hand, introducing himself.
“Good evening. I’m Anthony Stewart and this is Chyna Stone.”
“Good evening, sir,” he said, shaking Tony’s hand, then turned to Chyna, took his cap from his head and bowed a little. “Good evening, madam.”
He put his hat back on before he continued to speak to them.
“My name is Ramsay and I’ll be driving you to Dordogne Estate this evening. Sir Robert is awaiting your arrival.”
Chyna chuckled as she imagined Tony fighting the urge to reply, ‘Very good, my dear chap. Drive on!’
As they drove through the scenic countryside toward Sir Robert’s ancestral estate, Chyna was overwhelmed by the spectacular scenery that went past the car window. Apparently, despite being the bustling center of industry that Bristol was, a particular care for the natural environment surrounding the town was evident. Lush, verdant fields rolled over the hillsides in every direction while spectacular hedgerows in full bloom lined the neighborhood roadways. The estates in the area were expansive. Still fenced, they were divided by the ancient, low cut stone walls that were probably placed there by the original landowners centuries ago.
It made Chyna feel nostalgic seeing the four foot tall embankments that ran in straight lines toward the horizon and parallel to the road. To her, they were beacons of a time when all one had to contain within or keep out of one’s property were the livestock; a time when there was nothing to fear of encroachment from one’s neighbor. She sighed loudly as she envisioned a simpler, kinder time in history.
“What’s wrong, Babe?” Tony asked, pulling her closer to him in the spacious back seat. “You still tired?”
“No, I’m fine, just reminiscing a little.”
“Really? About what? I thought this was your first time in Bristol.”
“It is certainly not my first time in England. In perfect honesty, Tony, as much as the towns and cities here may differ, the countryside is exactly the same everywhere in the country. Excepting maybe way north; but otherwise, exactly the same.”
Tony gave her a small smile and turned back to watching the road through the windscreen.
When they pulled up to the gates of Dordogne Estate, they were both sufficiently in awe. The double gate swung open automatically as the car approached and closed again behind them as it started up the long driveway. Tony chuckled and pointed down the driveway nudging Chyna on the arm.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“‘Run, Forrest. Run!’” Tony said, still pointing down the drive.
Chyna instantly joined Tony in the joke. The road leading up to the enormous manor house was straight and tree lined. On both sides there were ancient oak trees heavily hung with the gray lichen sometimes called Spanish moss or old man’s beard; it looked exactly like the ‘run’ scene in Forrest Gump.
The Rolls Royce pulled in silently under a large porte-cochère that stood as shelter over the front door. Sir Robert was uncharacteristically waiting for them at the door. Chyna got a bad feeling about that as they pulled up in front of him. He stepped back and allowed an older gentleman to open the car door for them and once they were out he stepped up and extended his hand, first to Tony and then to Chyna.
“Welcome to Bristol and to Dordogne,” he announced ceremoniously.
“Thank you, Sir Robert,” Chyna replied as Tony went around to the back of the car to help the elderly driver and butler with the bags.
They both shot Tony a deathly look and he unwillingly backed off to leave them to it. Sir Robert laughed at the spectacle and invited them into the house.
“You look like you’re going somewhere, Sir Robert,” Chyna continued. “Or were you just very happy to see us?”
He gave her a rueful smile.
“You are very perceptive, Miss Stone. I have only just been called away to London on business. I was still hoping we could have dinner together, but should I delay, it would mean a very late night for Ramsay.”
“Oh, I see. But at the weekend?”
Robert laughed heartily at her concern and replied, “In London society, there is a great deal of business that gets done on the polo field in the summer, Miss Stone. Public relations firms such as mine thrive on the connections made at such events.”
She was visibly disappointed. Tony recognized her mood change and immediately volunteered his services.
“Well, if you’d allow me to, I don’t mind driving you to the airport after dinner, Sir Robert.”
The gesture was, in Robert’s mind, extremely generous. They had just made a ten hour trip from Istanbul and yet they would have his company so earnestly that they would leave the comforts of his home to take him to the airport.
“I would hate to impose so much on my own guests,” he started, but Tony stopped him.
“I won’t hear of it. You have been extremely generous to host us here and since you will now be away on business, we wouldn’t feel comfortable at all unless we at least had dinner together.”
“You have made it an offer I cannot refuse, Tony; at least, not without being terribly rude and an ungracious host at that. I promise to at least make it fun for you.”
“Really? How so, Sir Robert?”
“Just Robert, please, and that goes for you too, Miss Stone.”
Chyna laughed and replied, “Only if you call me Chyna.”
“Agreed,” he responded, then turned to Tony to finish what he had been saying. “Well, I won’t have you drive that boring monstrosity, that’s for sure. I’m positive we can find something a little, ummm, sportier in the garage when we’re ready to leave. I only have my briefcase with me, after all.”
With pictures of Maseratis and Bugattis running through his head, Tony grinned widely.
“Shall we go in for dinner?”
“Absolutely.”
***
“Ichita,” Keiko said into the phone as she stood at the window of the lounge, watching the jet taxi away from the gate.
“Moshi moshi, Keiko.”
“They are both on their way to Bristol. Robert Montgomery must be taking this business very seriously. He’s gone to great lengths to get Chyna Stone to Dordogne safely and quickly.”
“I take it that you were unable to intercept them then.”
“There was no way, Ichita. He’s clearly done his homework.”
“We have to know exactly how much he knows, Keiko. There’s much more to this story than meets the eye. You know how much I hate to be in the dark.”
“Yes, Ichita, I do. I’ll find out what’s going on. I doubt he knows that much since he’s brought her in to investigate, though. I mean, how much could she possibly find out? It’s already thirty-five years after the fact.”
“Keiko, I am sure that you have read everything that E
van sent over on this woman and her international feats. Take it from someone who has been underestimated his whole life, I am certain that the majority of her success has come from people consistently making the same mistake that you are right now.”
Keiko said nothing in response; she just listened, allowing him to continue speaking.
“She is a prolific researcher, Keiko. It seems that if it’s out there at all, she will certainly find it. It’s your job to make sure she doesn’t get within spitting distance of anything even remotely useful. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ichita.”
“By the way, you need to get to Hashimoto-san urgently.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Our systems were almost hacked into this morning. The team is still trying to find out what they were after and how much information they got. I think it’s just the formulas, but with everything that’s happening right now, I’d rather to err on the side of caution.”
“Understood.”
“It's not just the Montgomerys that my father and I have pissed off in our love for priceless acquisitions.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from Keiko before he ended the call. The less they said over the compromised network, the better. He knew she would contact him once she had picked up the package of new, secure equipment from Hashimoto’s shop in London.
***
Chyna and Tony had been at the expansive estates of Dordogne in Bristol, luxuriating in the opulent hospitality of Sir Robert Montgomery for the entire weekend. It had been the sort of peaceful vacation that they had needed after their dealings with the UNESCO hostage situation in Iraq. Sufficiently relaxed after three whole days of not doing much, Chyna was ready to get working on what they had actually come to England to do.
The morning Tony left to go hunting with Sir Robert’s valet, Marcus, Chyna took a leisurely walk down to the business end of the estate to search out Angus McKinley, the estate’s ancient caretaker. He had lived at Dordogne his whole life of seventy-two years and had been the property’s caretaker for fifty of them. He knew everything there was to know about the place; even more that Robert himself.
She found the old man sitting under a big oak tree in the garden of the caretaker’s cottage sipping a mug of hot English tea.
“Mr. McKinley?” Chyna said as she stood at the garden gate.
“It’s Angus, lass,” he replied without looking up from his steaming cup. “Mr. McKinley was me da’ and he been dead now for thirty years.”
He waved her into the garden and stood as she approached, as any proper gentleman would. They sat together and Angus immediately started asking questions.
“You the lass Sir Monty said would be coming to chat with me about the stolen armor?”
“Yes, sir… I mean… Angus,” Chyna stuttered.
“Very well, it’s a good day and a good time for a chat. There isn’t much left to do around here this time of year. All the crops are in the ground, the orchards aren’t ready with anything yet and the boys are out from school to deal with the livestock. It’s downright boring now. You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would ya?”
Marcus had told Chyna that if she ever wanted to tap Angus McKinley for information, all she had to do was bring a pack of Embassy Kings and a lighter along with her. The old man had claimed to have given up smoking a few years prior, but Marcus was convinced he’d only given up buying them. Chyna rarely smoked anymore, but she could sympathize with him.
She took the open pack from her pocket and offered it to Angus with the lighter. He smiled at her as he put the cigarette to his lips and lit it, savoring the first draw and blowing the smoke out slowly. He handed them back to her and continued.
“Cupper?”
“What?” Chyna asked.
Angus laughed at the look of bewilderment on her face as he remembered she was American.
“Would you like a cup of tea, lass?”
“Certainly.”
Angus went into the kitchen and emerged with a clean, white mug which he filled from his tea pot and handed to her.
“So what do you know about the place?”
“Not much, I’ll admit. All I really know is that Robert and his family members are descendants of the Plantagenets and that the stolen armor belonged to Eleanor of Aquitaine.”
“Quite right,” Angus agreed. “Do you know much about her then?”
“Just the basics, I’m afraid, but I’m completely fascinated. She was such a powerful woman and for her to have survived and remained so formidable in such a strange and perilous time for women who dared to grasp at power and wealth is absolutely amazing,” Chyna said, intrigued. “But tell me, Angus, tell me what you know. Robert says you’re quite the expert. I especially want to know why they called her ‘The Eagle’.”
“How much time ‘ave ya got?” the old man asked her, with a cheeky look in his eye.
“As long as it takes for you to tell me everything you know, Angus,” Chyna said, with a smile.
She reached into her pocket and took out the pack of Embassy cigarettes again, placing them on the stump between them and dropping the lighter beside it before leaning back in the garden chair and repeating, “As long as it takes.”
The old man smiled as he took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. Chyna joined him this time; she had decided to settle in to listen to his story.
“Alright then, missy. We might as well start at the very beginning. I can only tell you how I remember the story. It’s no joke that Sir Robert and the Barons Dordogne before him came down from the Plantagenet line. All of that history is still at Châtellerault Castle in Winchester. They’ve got a library there that dates back to Matilda the Empress. It was sacked in 1141 during the rout of Winchester, but a monk locked himself in the library so the soldiers couldn’t burn the manuscripts. When you go to the estate, you’ll get to read it all for yourself in the original copy.
“Before her birth, Eleanor's life had been prophesized about. History doesn’t say by whom, but the prophecy itself was recorded. Eleanor was the eagle, the broken bond was the annulment of her marriage to Louis and the third nestling was Eleanor's favorite son, Richard.
“She was born into the ruling family of the duchy of Aquitaine, a cultural center, much ahead of its time compared to the other French duchies and cities, who still lived in a medieval world. Aquitaine was also the largest of the French duchies, the prize of Western Europe. Eleanor's family had ruled Aquitaine for centuries, first gaining power in the year 841.
“William was born in 1099 to Duke William the ninth of Aquitaine and his second wife, Philipa de Rouerque. His father was famous across the continent for his scandalous behavior and turned Aquitaine into a land of culture and beauty. The court of his Aquitanian duchy became a center for artists, poets, musicians, singers, and writers. He married Philipa after her husband, the King of Aragon, died, but it wasn’t long before he discarded Philipa and took on a mistress, a woman named Dangereuse de Chatellerault. She had a daughter named Aenor, who William decided to marry to his son.
“Although William refused, the marriage took place, probably around 1120, when Aenor was only seventeen. They had three children; two daughters came first Eleanor and Petronilla, and then a son they called William Aigret. Sadly, tragedy struck the family in 1130. Aenor of Châtellerault died at the age of twenty-seven, as did William Aigret, at the age of four. William was left with only his two daughters and this brought up talk of a possible female succession. William decided to name Eleanor as his heir, to become the Duchess of Aquitaine, the first and only woman to rule the duchy in her own right.
“In the summer of 1137, Eleanor received news that her father was dead, having suffered from food poisoning, and that she was the Duchess of Aquitaine. Before he had died, William had declared King Louis VI of France Eleanor's protector should the event of William's death arise. Eleanor was being urged to marry quickly to protect her own interest and so she could take control of Aquitaine. She
married King Louis' son, the Dauphin, Louis, in the summer of 1137 in Bordeaux and the agreement was that Eleanor would remain the sole ruler of Aquitaine, Louis as her consort, and in the event of her death, he would inherit it. A week after their marriage, on August 1, 1137, King Louis VI died of dysentery so that left Louis as King Louis VII of France. Eleanor was now a queen.
“When Louis wrote to the German emperor, Conrad III, and convinced him to join the French troops on the expedition, that became known as the Second Crusade. Eleanor had no intention to sit at home in Paris. Although reluctant, Eleanor convinced Louis to let her join him on the crusade. In 1147, Eleanor and Louis reached the Holy Land and their French and German troops reached Constantinople to a royal greeting.
“While in Antioch, Eleanor’s uncle, Prince Raymond, pleaded with her to aid him in defense of Antioch against the Muslim invaders. Eleanor brought the matter before Louis who declined, and decided it was best to leave Antioch, for his sake and Eleanor's. He forced Eleanor to come with him and Prince Raymond was killed in 1149 while in combat, his severed head sent to the caliph of Baghdad.
“In 1152, Eleanor had had enough of Louis; he was a weak man, controlled by his friend, Thierry of Galeran, who poisoned his mind with lies about Eleanor. Barely two months after Eleanor and Louis annulled their marriage, she remarried. This time to the Duke of Anjou, Henry, a member of the Plantagenet family. Henry's grandfather was Henry the first, King of England. His mother was the famous Matilda, the former empress of Germany and the Duchess of Normandy. The marriage shocked the people of France. Eleanor was eleven years older than Henry; nonetheless, she had found a man she loved more than Louis.
“In 1154, her husband became King Henry II of England, following the disastrous reign of King Stephen of England. Eleanor was now the Queen of England. Before his marriage to Eleanor, Henry had controlled Anjou and Normandy, and now he controlled in addition not only England but Gascony, Touraine, and Aquitaine. As powerful a nation as England had become, they soon felt the need to relaunch the Crusades to the Holy Land. Again Eleanor accompanied her husband and their troops.
