The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress

by J. Robert Kennedy

Gaspard stared at him, his eyes narrowing. “What truce?”

  “Between France and Flanders. Could this have something to do with that?”

  Gaspard paused, his jaw dropping as if this possibility had never occurred to him. “What would make you say that?”

  “It’s been pointed out to me that those involved are all in favor of the treaty. Embarrassing you would perhaps sway the Court to change its opinion in favor of war.”

  Gaspard’s eyes widened. “But that would be insane! Who would possibly want war? The King certainly doesn’t seem to.”

  Marcus pressed on. “But the Court was split, was it not?”

  “Well, yes, many did want war, but myself and—” His eyes widened further. “And Lords Olivier and Jean, as well as Lord Charles, argued hard against rejecting the truce. We felt, in the end, it was in France’s best interest to agree to peace, rather than go to the expense of yet another war with little benefit, especially with the English involved.” He paled. “But with us out of the way, those who oppose peace could prevail, and sway the King to their way of thinking.” He shook his head. “But I can’t believe anyone could truly want such a thing.”

  Marcus decided to reveal the one thing he had been holding back. “What of King Adolf of Germany?”

  Gaspard’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you—?”

  “Sir, they’re here!” shouted someone down the hall, heavy footfalls getting nearer. The door opened and one of the servants entered, gasping for breath. “Sir, they’re here!”

  Marcus turned. “Who?”

  “The King’s Personal Guard. They say they have a warrant for the master’s arrest.”

  Gaspard rose, rounding his desk, then grabbed Marcus by the arm. “You believe I’m innocent?”

  Marcus nodded. “I do.”

  “Then you must do whatever you can to prove it, otherwise it could mean war.”

  41

  Durant Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  David took a deep breath as he peered through the boards at the man watching them. Jeremy should be on the roof by now, though he couldn’t risk going early. He had to wait for confirmation. Footsteps approaching from behind him delivered it.

  “He’s in position,” hissed Lady Joanne, who had climbed the back stairs with Jeremy, waiting for his signal.

  “Okay.” He turned and handed Tanya’s leash to her. “Keep a good grip on her, but if you have to, let her go. She probably outweighs you, and will just drag you if she’s so inclined.”

  “I understand.”

  “And if anything goes wrong, go out the back, get on our horses, and head to the Templar headquarters. You remember how to get there?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But nothing will go wrong. You’ll be okay.”

  He smiled at her. “I hope so. But be ready, understood?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a quick hug and he blushed, his heart hammering at what was his first since childhood.

  It felt good.

  He let go of the leash and pointed at Tanya. “You be good, or Sir Marcus will be cross with you, understood?”

  The dog barked, her tail wagging.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” David opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him. He strode toward the man across the street with purpose, though not at a run—even an innocent man would balk at that. He waved pleasantly. “Excuse me, sir, but can I ask what your business is here?”

  The man’s eyes bulged, and he opened his mouth, saying nothing, instead making a string of indecisive sounds as if searching for the words.

  “I only ask because you’ve been staring at my friend’s home for some time now, and you’re making him nervous.”

  The man’s eyes darted from left to right, then he reached for his sword as a roar erupted from within.

  I guess that’s an answer.

  David spun and raced back toward Thomas’ home, not bothering with a subtle signal for Jeremy as the man chased after him, his sword gripped in both hands over his head.

  The crisp sound of a well-loosed arrow whipped past him from overhead, the distinct thud followed by a gasped cry signaling success. He eased up then came to a stop, his pursuer now prone in the mud, his chest heaving out its last breaths as a large pool of blood spread, an artery obviously hit.

  A horse whinnied to his right and David spun to see another man racing away. David looked about and spotted a horse tied up across the street. He raced over and untied it, then swung into the saddle. “Jeremy!” He held up his hand as he urged the horse back toward Thomas’. Jeremy tossed down his bow and David easily caught it then the quiver filled with arrows. He sent his horse into a gallop after the man, still visible in the distance, as he slung the quiver over his shoulder, using his knees to control the steed until he got settled.

  He leaned forward, smacking the side of the unfamiliar horse, urging her onward as he closed the gap with the rider ahead of him, his adversary forced to deal with the crowds that filled the street, David taking advantage of the already parted souls. As he neared, he reached behind him and drew an arrow, continuing the chase. His heart hammered with excitement, an excitement he desperately missed, and as he neared, he could picture the enemy ahead in Saracen garb, the desert sand whipping about him, the dry air parching his mouth.

  Oh, Lord, how I wish I still served thee!

  Yet wasn’t he? He was protecting an innocent woman, and one not so innocent, from harm. He was helping his master care for three children back at the farm. Was this not the Lord’s work?

  It was.

  It just wasn’t as exciting, and that was selfish. Excitement was to satisfy the weaknesses of man, not the glory of God.

  And didn’t his heart yet beat with the thrill of the chase at this very moment? Life in the Holy Land was filled with battles, but they weren’t every day. Most of it was spent in prayer or drills. And during patrols, it was a life of being constantly on edge, of always wondering what lurked in the shadows, of what might attack you next.

  Here, in France, on the farm, he felt at peace for the first time in over a decade, and he was enjoying it. He was sure that as time went on, and they planted then harvested crops, he would reap the satisfaction of hard work paying off, and if the past few weeks were any indication, he might still get the adventure he craved.

  After all, they were still Templars, and couldn’t simply sit back and watch injustice go unpunished around them.

  Now you’re mine.

  He was finally close enough to make the kill without harming those still in the streets. The man glanced over his shoulder at him, and David kept leaning forward, not revealing the bow at his side. The man faced forward again, unsuspecting, and David swiftly took aim and fired, the arrow sailing through the air, perfectly loosed.

  It impacted his opponent square in the back. He threw his arms out in agony as his neck bent backward. A cry erupted before he slumped forward in his saddle, his horse slowing. David quickly reached him, taking the horse by the lead, bringing it to a stop. He grabbed the man by the chin, a weak moan escaping before David noticed with satisfaction that the arrow had pierced the man’s chest, the tip visible through what was merely a tunic.

  No armor?

  The other man hadn’t worn any either. These men were clearly meant to blend in, and armor would have prevented that.

  The decision had doomed them.

  He turned his horse back toward Thomas’ as a crowd gathered, fear growing in him at the thought there might have been a third man.

  Thomas led the three horses down the alleyway behind his home. There had been a lot of surprised looks when he had handed over the coins to pay for the beasts, those in the neighborhood knowing that he was destitute. But when he had explained they weren’t for him, the questions had been satisfied, and the despair he was consumed by was renewed.

  Of course they weren’t for him.

  What would he, a starving peasant, need with three hor
ses? And where would he get such money?

  It had felt good, though, if for only a moment. Money in his palm was something he wasn’t used to, and should he live out his life working a farm with Sir Marcus, he would probably never feel it again.

  But with Mrs. Thibault? He might feel it all the time. His heart fluttered with the thought. Enough money never to go wanting again. Though could he live with himself? She was clearly an unsavory sort—a criminal. What crimes would she involve him in should he fall under her employ?

  He couldn’t imagine anything too sordid. After all, she wanted him for his brains, not his brawn. He looked down at his emaciated frame.

  Definitely not his brawn.

  And how much trouble could he get in, merely reading and writing?

  His father had been a forger. A criminal. And he had never done anything as untoward as killing or maiming. He had probably never even met any of his victims, as they weren’t his. They were the victims of those who hired him. He merely provided a service. If others got hurt, it wasn’t his father’s fault, it was that of the man who had hired him.

  As it would be with Mrs. Thibault. If he were merely reading and writing for her, and she then used his skills to hurt others, he wasn’t responsible, she was. He was only a tool. Did one blame the sword that killed the man, or the person who wielded it? What about the sword’s maker?

  The answer was obvious.

  Yet for some reason, he still felt guilty even contemplating working for her, especially with Sir Marcus’ offer there for the taking. An honest life of hard labor. And as the man had said, he could just go to the farm for a while until back on his feet. It would give him time to think, to figure out what he wanted to do with his life. There was still the possibility of joining the Templars. He couldn’t be a knight, of course, as he had no royal lineage, but the Order was in need of skilled people to help administer their vast holdings, and with his ability to read and write, he would probably be welcomed into the fold.

  Though it would be a poor life. Yes, it would be rewarding in that he would be serving God and something bigger than himself, but it would be merely the existence of an employed peasant.

  He wanted more.

  He sighed as his dilapidated home came into sight.

  Then frowned as he saw the flurry of activity behind it, as the three horses already there were quickly prepared.

  He urged his three forward, coming to a halt to see Jeremy and Enzo at work. “What’s happened?”

  “He was watching the place as we suspected.” Jeremy tightened the saddle. “I took him down, but there was another. David took after him and isn’t back yet. We need to be ready to go at once.” He glanced at the three new horses. “Double-check them. We will be riding hard and fast, and can’t risk anyone falling off from a loose saddle.”

  Thomas nodded, climbing off his horse and getting to work, when pounding hoofs approached from the opposite direction. Jeremy stepped into the alley, drawing his sword, before sheathing it with a sigh of relief.

  “David! I feared the worst!”

  David brought his horse to a halt. “As did I, but I got him. We must leave now, there’s no time to lose. I fear there may be others.”

  “Why?”

  “If there were two, then why both wait? Wouldn’t one go and tell the others where they were, so reinforcements could be fetched?”

  Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying they did send someone, so there was at least a third. Others could be arriving at any moment, and we can’t be here.” He pointed at the door. “Get the others. I’m going to return this horse. I’ll be back in a moment.” He turned his horse around and rushed back down the alley, out of sight a moment later.

  Thomas finished checking his three horses as Jeremy disappeared inside. The two ladies, along with the dog Tanya, appeared shortly after, and Thomas helped Lady Joanne onto one of the new horses as Enzo helped his mistress onto another. Thomas, Jeremy, and Enzo mounted as David tore around the corner at a sprint, leaping onto the back of the lone remaining horse.

  “Let’s go!” They moved forward, and David turned in his saddle, looking at Joanne. “M’Lady, you will have to guide us, so stay just behind me.”

  “Okay.”

  They turned out of the alleyway, making for the main street that ran in front of Thomas’ home, then turned left. Six horses and an excited dog made for quite the entourage, and the noise of the hooves served as an alarm to those in their path, the crowds parting for them, allowing them to keep a good pace the entire way. It felt like hours, his heart hammering the entire time, his hands gripping the reins tighter than they should, as every rider was suspect, every angry eye a threat—but it was half an hour at best.

  The city might have been big, but it was nothing compared to the vast lands that surrounded it, lands Thomas could say he had barely seen. They quickly left his neighborhood far behind, and after crossing a bridge, he found his mouth agape at the estates that lined the road, memories returning of his youth when he visited here from time to time to see his forbidden childhood friend.

  His chest tightened at the memories.

  At the betrayal.

  “Behind us!”

  Thomas snapped out of his reverie, turning to see Jeremy falling back, David slowing to join him, pointing at Lady Joanne.

  “Keep going!”

  “We’re almost there!” she replied, urging her horse back to a full gallop. Thomas hesitated to join her and the others, his horse continuing to slow, when David made the decision for him.

  “Go, Master Thomas! Defend them if needed!”

  Thomas drew in a deep breath, nodding, then urged his steed after the others, a few moments passing before he realized he had no sword in which to defend anyone.

  He said it to save your life.

  He turned back to see David and Jeremy, high in their saddles, arrows fired in rapid succession at a group of riders charging toward them. One after the other they fell, yet they kept coming, and Thomas lost sight of them as he rounded a bend in the road. His chest ached at how useless he felt, how if only he were trained, he might have been able to remain behind and help those brave men.

  But he was nothing.

  Not even a dreamer.

  He had to do better. He had to make a better life for himself.

  “Open the gates!” cried Lady Joanne ahead of them, and he looked up to see the gates of a large estate swing open, Joanne surging through to safety followed by the others. He cleared the walls and the gates began to swing shut when he stopped his horse and leaped off, rushing back.

  “Wait! There are still two more!” He ran back onto the road, peering into the distance, his heart hammering from the ride and the fear, then breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Jeremy round the bend, galloping hard, David a short distance behind him. He waved at them, urging them on, his heart nearly stopping when he saw two men in pursuit. He slowly stepped back toward the gates as they neared. “Hurry!” he cried, then turned on his heel to run back inside as David and Jeremy blew past him, the guards closing the gates as the riders in pursuit slowed then turned.

  “That was close!” laughed David as he dismounted, Joanne and the others rushing over.

  “Oh, thank God you’re all right!” she cried, giving him a quick hug. “You saved us!”

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Umm, I think we saved us.”

  Joanne laughed, giving him a hug as well, leaving the two squires with flushed cheeks.

  “Is that my wife?” cried a voice, and Thomas spun to see a man running down the steps toward them, his arms outstretched.

  “Oh, Charles!” cried Joanne, rushing forward and throwing herself into his arms, tears flowing freely.

  “Are you okay, my love? Were you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No, these good men saved us all.” She pressed a hand against her husband’s chest. “You know about the letter?”

  “Yes, yes. It was all lies. I
know now that you would never betray me like that.”

  She collapsed in his arms. “Oh thank God it’s over.”

  Her husband patted her on the back then gently pushed her away, staring into her eyes. “I’m afraid it is anything but over, my dear. We must find out who is behind this, for they may yet succeed in destroying us.”

  David stepped forward. “M’Lord, I’m sorry to interrupt this most joyous reunion, however, is our master here?”

  Charles shook his head. “No, he is not, though I know where he was going. I’ll have word sent at once that you have arrived.” He motioned toward the house, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Now let’s get inside where it is safe. I don’t want anything happening to you now that I have you back.”

  42

  De Laval Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  “What now?”

  Marcus shook his head as they watched Lord Gaspard led away in irons, no dignity permitted by the King’s Personal Guard, the intention clearly to humiliate. Whatever came of the charges, Gaspard’s reputation would be sullied, perhaps permanently, convincing Marcus even more that this entire exercise was to remove four barriers to war from the King’s Court.

  And his only proof was several German coins found in the possession of men who could never tell their stories.

  He turned to Simon. “I suggest we dismiss this ridiculous notion of male heirs, and return to our previous theory that someone is trying to end the truce with Flanders.”

  Sir Denys turned his back to the humiliation, clearly flustered by what he had just witnessed, the sobbing staff gathered in the courtyard not helping. “I want to know why I’ve been drawn into this. We still have no explanation for why someone went to all the trouble to hire and train an imposter, seduce me, then accuse Lady Joanne falsely of the same crime as these others. No imposters were involved there, as far as we know.”

  Marcus agreed. “No, in fact, I doubt any crime actually occurred there.”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”