Joanne’s eyes widened. “You were followed?”
“Yes.”
“And they just let you take their purses?”
Simon chuckled. “After they were dead on the ground.”
Joanne gasped at the revelation, while Thibault reached for more wine.
Marcus shook the purses. “I was thinking their contents might prove useful to young Thomas here, to help him through these hard times.”
Thomas’ eyes widened slightly as he eyed the purses. “Surely you should keep them, sir. After all, it was you who fought and won.”
Marcus smiled at the lad, apparently not a greedy bone to be had in his body. “Actually, as a Templar, I’m forbidden to carry more than four deniers on my person at any time, unless on official business.” He emptied the contents from one of the purses into his hand, revealing almost a dozen silver coins. “And as you can see, this is far more than a knight sworn to poverty would ever need.” Something caught his eye. He picked out one of the coins and held it up to the firelight. “This is odd.” He tossed it to Simon. “Tell me what you see.”
“A very fine meal, is what I see.” He held it up and turned to put the fire behind him. “Who is that?” He handed the coin to Jeremy, he and David examining it.
“There’s some writing around the edges,” said Jeremy, squinting.
Thomas held out his hand. “May I?”
Jeremy handed it to Thomas who then rose, retrieving a magnifying glass from one of the drawers of the desk his father used to work at. He returned, sitting cross-legged. “It’s clearly King Adolf, it says so below his portrait.”
Simon shrugged. “So?”
Thibault huffed. “So? They don’t make these sergeants too smart, do they?”
Simon growled slightly at her and Marcus held him back with a smile. “Okay, oh wise one, what is so important about a coin with King Adolf on it?”
“You fool! Nobody in Paris would be carrying a coin from the King of Germany, not unless he had done some business with his representatives, or was working for the man himself!”
36
De Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
Marcus had avoided any mention of his encounter with Lord Victor when he had updated Lord Charles on their progress yesterday, but with Victor’s death, there was no longer any danger to the man, and should they be overheard, or the conversation shared, no more harm could be done.
It was unfortunate, though it did give him the opportunity to ask questions freely that might yield additional information.
“I was in the third row, so luckily only twisted my knee. Many were less fortunate, with many a bone fractured that day. Those responsible were flogged. They should have been hanged for their incompetence, but I suppose forgiveness is the Christian way.”
Marcus nodded, motioning at Charles’ legs. “And now?”
He gingerly raised his right leg slightly, bending it at the knee. “I find I favor it from time to time, but it’s almost completely healed.”
“Did you require a cane?”
“I should say so! For the first week I could barely get out of bed, the second I could barely put any pressure on it whatsoever.” He grunted. “I think cane sales went up in the city that first week. Half the Court required them, ladies as well.” He shook his head. “They should have been drawn and quartered,” he muttered. He raised his voice, jabbing at the air between them. “You know, this is what happens when you give the contract to the lowest bidder. Nobody thought to check if they were competent!” He growled. “And the embarrassment to the King! Do you realize how many foreign dignitaries were there? Many of them were injured as well! What message do you think they sent back to their lieges of French competence? A debacle if there ever was one!”
Marcus took the opportunity to pick up on something Charles said. “Speaking of foreign intrigue, what is your opinion of the truce between France and Flanders?”
Charles halted his rant, his eyebrows rising. “What has that to do with anything?”
Marcus shrugged. “Perhaps nothing, perhaps a great deal.”
Charles paused, regarding Marcus before answering. “Well, I support it, of course. Anything to avoid war.”
“Are there those in the Court who oppose it?”
Charles frowned. “Sadly, yes, there are some. Too many, in fact, though they have been silenced for the most part now that the truce has been signed and the King has indicated his full support.”
“How split would you say the Court was?”
Charles sat behind his desk, wincing slightly. “Fairly evenly, I’m disappointed to say.” His eyes widened. “Say, that is something, isn’t it?” He smiled, wagging a finger at Marcus. “You, my good sir, are far more clever than I have given you credit for. You’re suggesting that whoever is behind these accusations is trying to tip the balance of those who would advise the King, in favor of war?”
Marcus shrugged again, but remained silent, letting the man run with his thoughts.
“Yes, yes, that is an interesting idea. Those accused are all wives of men who supported the truce, including me. Should we lose status, those who supported our position because of our influence, may be convinced to change their opinion.” He batted his hand at the idea. “Preposterous. Who would go to so much trouble to provoke a war? I cannot believe a Frenchman could be behind this, and Flanders was handily defeated in our first encounters—there’s simply no way they could want war.” He shook his head. “This must just be a coincidence.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are right.” He retrieved the list of names Victor had died obtaining. “I was wondering if you could look at this list for me, and indicate who you remember might have been injured.” He handed the list to Charles, whose eyes widened as he scanned it.
“Where did you get this?”
“From Lord Victor.”
Charles paused, shaking his head. “A tragedy what happened to him. To think we aren’t even safe on Palace grounds now. Something has to be done about crime in this city.”
“So, you think it was random?”
Charles’ eyes widened slightly as he stared up from the list. “Wasn’t it? Somebody must have sneaked over the walls and accosted him. His purse was found missing, as was a ring his wife swore he never removed.”
Marcus nodded in agreement, though he didn’t share the theory. “Perhaps.”
Charles returned his attention to the list, running his finger down the names, pausing on many of them. He sighed. “I’m afraid so many were injured, I can’t say for certain if I would remember with any level of accuracy.” He looked up. “Why is this important?”
“From our questioning, we have determined that a man who required a cane several months ago, but no longer does, may be involved.”
Charles rolled his eyes. “If that’s your only lead, I’ll surrender to you now.” He chuckled as he grabbed a quill, dipping it in ink before running down the list again, checking off several names. “Wait, you’re sure it’s a man?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll leave off the women, then. And they must have used a cane?”
Marcus nodded. “Yes.”
Charles shook his head. “No. They may not have wanted to use one in the Court, lest they be perceived as weak. I’ll include any I thought might have had trouble walking but were attempting to hide it.” At least several dozen names were checked off.
Marcus pointed at the abridged list. “Are any of these men foreign, by chance, or have any dealings with foreign governments?”
Charles grunted. “So, we’re back to your theory that someone, perhaps a foreign power, is trying to trigger a war between France and Flanders?”
“Lord Victor’s theory, a theory for which he died.”
“Assuming it wasn’t a random attack.” Charles waved his hand, dismissing any response, instead reviewing the list again, jotting down several notes. He handed the pages back to Marcus. “Hopefully this will assi
st you.”
Marcus bowed. “Hopefully, though as you say, it is probably just coincidence.” He stuffed the pages under his chainmail. “Has there been any word from your staff on who might have given the chambermaid the note you received?”
Charles leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “None. As you may have noticed upon your arrival, security is now much tighter than it was just this morning, and certainly tighter than when the note arrived.” He drew a deep breath then exhaled loudly. “I fear someone must have gained entry under false pretenses, and delivered the message to my wife’s chambermaid.”
“It’s the likeliest explanation,” agreed Marcus. “May I have it?”
Charles’ eyebrows climbed his forehead. “For what purpose?”
“It’s a piece of evidence and should be protected, in case you have a traitor in your midst.”
Charles considered his explanation, his head slowly bobbing, then opened a drawer in his desk, retrieving a folded piece of paper. “Here you go. And when this matter is over, destroy it. I don’t want any reminder of the affair.” He sighed, staring up at Marcus. “And I suppose you still will not tell me where my wife is?”
“She is safe, M’Lord, I assure you.”
“How can you be certain?”
“We were followed last night, and the threat was eliminated.”
Charles leaned forward, concern on his face. “Really? And what of next time? What if you don’t spot your pursuers?”
Marcus shook his head. “There won’t be a next time. I have no intention of seeing your wife until this matter is settled. And as no one knows where she is beyond my sergeant and I, there is no risk of her being discovered. Rest assured, M’Lord, she is secure, and will be returned to you as soon as it is safe to do so.”
Charles frowned. “I see I have no choice but to trust in you, though I will say the captain of my guard seems to think you are her greatest threat.”
Marcus allowed himself a slight smile, far slighter than Simon’s grin. “And did I have the pleasure of his company at my home the other day?”
“Yes, you did.”
Marcus bowed slightly. “I am pleased to hear he’s still alive. And the others? I trust they are recovering?”
Charles smiled slightly. “Yes.”
“That is indeed good news. As I’m sure you’re aware, we maimed, rather than killed, as we weren’t clear on the situation. Now that we are, I can assure you, should anyone attempt to take your wife, they will be shown no quarter.”
Charles grunted. “Of course, I would expect no less.”
Marcus motioned toward the door. “Now, sir, if you’ll excuse us, we have a busy day.”
Charles rose. “Where does your investigation lead you now?”
“Back to Sir Denys’.”
Charles frowned at the mention of the man’s name. “Why? Is he now a suspect?”
Marcus shook his head, tapping where he had placed the papers. “No, but his name is on the list, and perhaps his recollection of things will fill in some of the blanks you warned may be in your memory.”
Charles nodded. “You know, he opposed the treaty.”
Marcus’ eyes widened slightly. “Did he, now?”
Charles shrugged. “Perhaps merely a coincidence.”
“Perhaps.”
“But if it isn’t, and this scandal is indeed designed to break the truce, he would be someone who might be behind it.”
Marcus bowed. “Thank you for your counsel. We will be careful what we say in his presence.”
37
Durant Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
Simone Thibault tiptoed toward the rear entrance of her decrepit accommodations, noting with a snort that the two men supposedly guarding them were asleep at their posts.
Though the annoying dog wasn’t.
It growled at her, waking Jeremy.
Perhaps that’s why he felt he could sleep.
He groaned as he stretched, then finally took notice of her as her hand reached the door. “Where are you going?”
“To take care of my business.”
His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“To drop my knickers and rid myself of last night’s feast!”
Jeremy blushed. “Oh, umm, I’m sorry.”
“Go back to sleep, I’ll be a while.”
He grinned. “I’ve been there, but I should get up.”
“Nonsense. You were up all night keeping us safe. Let us keep watch during the day.”
Jeremy nodded, getting comfortable again, his eyes already drooping. She stepped outside, the outhouse to the left, attached to the rear of the building. She opened the door and stepped inside, making quick work of it, then left as quietly as she could, closing the door gently. She rushed down the alleyway and into the main street that passed in front of Thomas’ home, spotting a boy of a questionable sort.
“Lad, come here.”
The boy approached with the wariness of one with experience on the streets. “What do you want?”
“I have a job for you, if you’re interested.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If there’s money in it, I am.”
“There is.” She dropped a coin into his palm, and his eyes widened. “I need you to go to the Swan tavern. Do you know where it is?”
The boy’s head bobbed vigorously, his eyes still glued to the coin. “I used to live near there before my grandmother died.”
“Excellent. Go to the bartender, and tell him Mrs. Thibault sent you, and that I need Enzo to come back with you.” She pointed at the ground floor of Thomas’ building. “I need you to bring him to that old shop, understood?”
The boy nodded. “Tell the bartender at the Swan that Mrs. Thibault needs Mr. Enzo to come back with me.”
“Perfect! And when you return, there will be two more of those,” she said, pointing at his clenched fist containing his down payment.
His eyes shot wide like saucers. “Yes, ma’am!” He sprinted in the opposite direction, and she hurried back to her uncomfortable prison before someone checked on her, a smile spreading across her face.
As soon as Enzo arrives, things will change.
38
En Route to the de Montfort Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“I noticed you didn’t mention the German coins we found.”
Marcus glanced over at Simon, riding beside him on his borrowed horse. “No, I think we should keep that to ourselves. He might repeat our suspicions to someone else, and word could spread. We don’t want whoever is behind this to disappear before we can have them arrested.”
Simon nodded, a frown spreading. “And what if the King is behind this?”
Marcus sighed, the thought having occurred to him as well. He didn’t trust the man at all, not after his experiences of a few weeks ago, and not with his open hostility toward the Order Marcus had dedicated his life to. “Then I fear there is little we can do, though in this case, I still think that he isn’t. If he wanted to end the truce, he would simply do it.”
Simon grunted. “True. Do you think Denys could be the one?”
Marcus chuckled. “Well, Lord Charles certainly seemed eager to let us know he was opposed to the truce, though if he were, how does carrying on an affair with someone help him? He too is committing a crime in so doing, not just Lady Joanne.”
“Do you think they have arrested him?”
Marcus urged his horse forward a little quicker with the suggestion. “The men with whom the wives were accused of having the affairs weren’t named when the charges were read in the Court, which I found odd. It was as if they were only concerned with one side of the crime.”
“To discredit their husbands?”
“That’s my thinking. If a man can’t control his wife, he can’t be relied upon in matters of true importance.” He stared at Sir Denys’ estate as they rounded a bend in the road. “Can you ever imagine living in such a place?”
Simon laughed. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I think I’d be ashamed. To have so much, when so many have so little?”
Marcus agreed. “I wonder if these men have any idea how easy their lives are compared to the masses that surround them.”
Simon tossed his head back, laughing even harder. “They probably think they’re doing good by the poor, in having such large staffs.”
Marcus smiled. “True, and I guess in a way they are. Gainful employment in a safe environment is charitable in a way, I suppose, but seeing this”—he waved his hand at the large estate—“makes me thankful I took a vow of poverty when joining the Templars. Because of it, I’ll never have to face such choices.”
“Or worry about your wife committing adultery.”
Marcus laughed. “Nor that!”
They approached the open gate and the guard waved them through, their Templar surcoats all that was needed. They approached the large home and dismounted, their horses taken by a stable boy.
“When will you be needing them back, sir?”
“In short order. We won’t be here very long.”
“Okay, sir, I’ll tend to them quickly.”
“Thank you, son.”
Sir Denys appeared on the steps, waving at them, a broad smile greeting them. “Ahh, Sir Marcus, so good to see you. Do you have news?”
Marcus bowed. “Little, though I do have questions, if you have the time.”
Denys motioned toward the entrance. “I do, though even if I didn’t, one must make the time for events such as these. How may I help you?”
Marcus and Simon followed him inside. “I have a list I would like you to look at for me.” He pulled out the pages, handing them to Denys. “It is a list of guests at the jousting tournament, on August ninth.”
Denys shook his head, glancing through the pages as he led them to his office. “Now that was a day! I nearly broke my neck!” He pointed at some of Charles’ notes. “What are these?”
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 12
