King Philip rose, the shocked Court falling still. “While a traitor would normally be tortured then executed, should you freely reveal your secrets, then we feel torture will not be necessary.” Charles stared up at the monarch, hope in his eyes. “However, your crimes cannot be forgiven. You are to be burned at the stake the day after we feel you are no longer of any use, and should satisfaction not be obtained from King Adolf, the German ambassador will be at your side, feeling the lick of the same flames that will consume you.”
Charles was shaking, his face pale at the sentence, but still managed to speak to the avoidance of what was certain to have been a brutal torture. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty, you are most wise and compassionate.”
King Philip ignored the man.
Charles turned to his wife, still on his knees. “Joanne, I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I hope you can—”
She glared at him. “You better not be asking me to forgive you! It would be I burning at the stake if it weren’t for Sir Marcus and my chambermaid. May you burn in Hell for what you have done!”
Charles’ shoulders slumped, and he was hauled to his feet by two guards and led away, along with the German ambassador and the three men already in chains.
Marcus was about to join his men when the King beckoned him. He strode over to the throne and took a knee. “Your Majesty?”
“It would seem we once again owe you our gratitude.”
Marcus bowed his head further. “I am humbled, Your Majesty, but I was merely doing my service to God and the truth.”
King Philip beckoned him closer, and Marcus rose, leaning in. The King put his lips to Marcus’ ear. “Don’t make a habit of it. We do not enjoy being indebted to Templars.” He waved him off, and Marcus quickly retreated several steps. The King rose with a flourish of robes, leaving the Court behind.
It erupted in animated discussion.
Marcus returned to his men, the tension of the past minutes slowly easing, and he unclenched his fist, unaware until this moment that he still gripped the coins.
Simon gestured toward the throne with his chin. “What was that about?”
“Just a message for his banker.”
“Huh?”
Marcus chuckled. “I’ll explain later.”
“Sir Marcus.” Joanne rushed up to him with a broad smile and tearstained cheeks. “Cousin.” She hugged him hard, and he returned it awkwardly. She mercifully let him go then stepped back, giving him his space. “I don’t know how I can possibly thank you.”
He dismissed her dilemma with a flick of his wrist. “There is no need. You are family, and I was merely doing my duty as a Templar.”
“You are a good man,” she sighed, echoing words apparently spoken by Isabelle. She stared toward the door her husband had been led out. “And now my next challenge begins.”
Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”
She looked up at him. “My husband is to be put to death. In France, that means his estate goes to his male heir. That will be his son from his first wife, who absolutely despises me, and will no doubt put me out of my own home.”
“Do you have any other family?”
She shook her head. “None that survive. In fact, your brother-in-law was the only one I thought still lived.” She frowned, and Beatrice took her hand. “I guess I will have to rely on the charity of others, though I fear that will not last, if it will be forthcoming at all.”
Marcus regarded her, her future prospects tragic. She had been innocent in the entire affair, yet in the end, would still be punished for the crimes of her husband, through a system of heredity that favored males above all else.
His eyebrows rose with a thought. “You are welcome to come to the farm and stay with us. Your chambermaid as well. You are, after all, family.” Her eyes widened at his words. “It won’t be the life you are accustomed to, but it will be a life, and you will never go hungry or cold.”
She threw herself into his arms once again, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “Oh, Cousin, the Lord truly did send you here to save me!”
She finally eased her grip on him, and he gently passed her back to Beatrice as Simon, David, and Jeremy grinned at him.
He ignored them, instead turning to Thomas. “And you, good sir, will you join us?”
Thomas’ eyes darted about, looking anywhere but at Marcus. “Umm, I was actually thinking I might take Mrs. Thibault up on her offer of employment.” Marcus tensed at the revelation. “I enjoy the city, and don’t want to abandon my home that my father worked so hard to maintain.”
Marcus’ head slowly bobbed at the explanation. Farming wasn’t for everyone, and in fact, he wasn’t certain yet if it was for him, and he could understand the appeal of remaining in one’s home, though he feared there might be more behind the decision than nostalgia. He regarded the gleeful Thibault for a moment, then put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “I understand. Just don’t do anything you’ll regret having to confess to God on your day of judgment.”
“Y-yes, sir.” He stole a glance at Marcus. “Don’t worry, you may yet see me at the farm.”
Marcus smiled warmly at the young man. “There will always be a place for you.”
59
De Rancourt Residence
Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France
“I don’t think she’s very pleased with you.”
Marcus looked up the path leading to the farm to see Isabelle standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her typical annoyed expression on her face.
There’s no way she has amorous feelings for me.
“It’s definitely love, hate like that.”
David and Jeremy snickered at Simon’s comment, and Marcus gave him a look, motioning slightly toward the two ladies riding behind them. “Mind the company we now keep.”
Simon grunted. “Soon the women will outnumber us, at the rate we’re taking in refugees.”
Marcus laughed. “And to make things worse, quarters for them will need to be built before they are for you lot.”
Jeremy groaned. “That’s it. I’m sleeping in the barn.”
Marcus chuckled. “I’m thinking perhaps we expand the house so that Lady Joanne and Beatrice have their own rooms, but I’m sure someone will have an opinion on that.”
He smiled at Isabelle, but she stared past him, her ire directed thankfully elsewhere.
“And just where did you two run off to? I came back here to find blood, arrows, a ransacked home, and none of you in sight!”
Marcus turned in his saddle for a better view of David and Jeremy, both who were crimson, their heads hung in shame.
“Umm, I, umm,” was all David could manage, which was better than Jeremy’s feeble shoulder shrug.
Joanne rose to their defense. “You’ll have to forgive them, my dear, I’m afraid we had to leave in a hurry.”
Isabelle glared at her for a moment, then shook her head, jabbing a finger at David then Jeremy. “Next time, you leave a note!”
David nodded, then stared at her, wide-eyed. “Umm, can you read?”
She rushed toward him, shaking a fist, causing David to pull his horse back several paces, the others laughing. Isabelle softened her expression, turning her attention to Joanne.
“I trust all is now resolved?”
Joanne dismounted. “Yes.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Unfortunately, the resolution meant destitution.”
“Oh, dear.” She took Joanne by the hand. “Let’s get you inside, and you can tell me all about it.”
Marcus watched the three women head toward their humble home, then smiled as three little ones bolted from the doorway the moment Isabelle, who had evidently told them to stay inside otherwise dire consequences would result, disappeared. He dismounted and gave them all big hugs.
“So, were you good?”
“Yes, sir,” replied his nephew, Jacques.
“And you didn’t pinch your sister?”
He shook his he
ad. “No, sir.”
Marcus looked at Angeline. “Is he telling the truth?”
“Yes, sir, he’s much better behaved now that you’re here.”
Marcus laughed, patting them both on the head. “And you, Pierre, how are you faring?”
“Quite well, sir.”
“Good, good. Now, why don’t you go inside while we get settled.”
“Yes, sir!” they cried, rushing back toward the humble home, Tanya following.
Marcus led his horse toward the barn, the others beside him, a smile on his face as the tension of the past several days slowly eased. He was home. It surprised him to think of this strange place in such a way, but nevertheless, it was indeed how he found himself thinking of this farm he had never seen a month ago.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”
Marcus glanced over at Simon. “What’s that?”
“How did you know it was Lord Charles? I mean, you already knew where you wanted me to send the Templar contingent to that night, and you had Sir Denys meet us at the very spot with the King’s Personal Guard.” He shook his head. “How could you have possibly known it was him?”
Marcus smiled. “Do you really want to know? You might feel the fool.”
Simon grunted. “I already feel the fool, why not confirm it?”
Marcus chuckled. “It was the captain of Lord Charles’ guard himself who revealed the truth that first day.”
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Because you’re a fool!”
Simon shook a fist at David, who hopped out of reach.
“Do you remember what he said when he was leaving, after we bested him and his men?”
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “He threatened you, I think. I can’t remember exactly what was said.”
“He said, ‘you have become involved in something far more dangerous than you can possibly imagine, and one lone knight will not be able to stop what has already begun.’”
Simon’s eyes widened. “That’s right!” They narrowed. “But what does that mean?”
“Think about it. At this point, all he should have known was that his master had ordered him to retrieve his wife, who had been accused of adultery. The formal charges weren’t even laid until the next day, and it wasn’t until then that we knew there were three others. Why would he describe this domestic issue as something far more dangerous than I could possibly imagine? I paid it little mind at the time, but once we met with Lord Charles, and I realized that all that was going on was a case of a wife being accused of adultery, his captain’s warning made no sense. And as the events unfolded, and what he said began to fit the new facts, I realized there was only one reason for him to say what he had—he knew about the conspiracy.
“Lord Charles must have brought him into his confidence, as he would have needed help from time to time over the months, help from someone he could trust to have his best interests at heart, as opposed to someone supplied by the German ambassador. In so doing, he ended up revealing he was involved the moment his captain’s loose tongue betrayed him in a display of false bravado aimed at trying to strike fear in the heart of an enemy who had humiliated him not moments before.”
Simon shook his head. “It’s a good thing you were here. If he had said that to me, I never would have remembered, and the plan could have succeeded.”
“Fortunately, we have only one fool in the group.”
Simon shoved David into Jeremy, sending him tumbling down the hill. Marcus laughed, turning toward his beet red squire, then staring down at the farmhouse, Lady Joanne’s chambermaid already outside, collecting dried laundry, her mistress visible through the window, her laughter and that of Isabelle’s carrying across the fields. He smiled then stared up at the heavens.
This wasn’t the path I would have chosen for myself, Lord, but I think it will be a good one.
Simon stared up at the sky. “What are you looking at?”
Marcus laughed. “Nothing my friend, nothing. Just enjoying the fresh air of our new home.”
Simon kicked the dirt then stopped, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey, I just thought of a perk to farming, over the Holy Land.”
Marcus turned to him. “Really? What?”
“There’s not a stinking fish in sight.”
THE END
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Acknowledgments
The idea for this book came to me while working on the first book in this series. While doing some research, I stumbled upon the account of the Tour de Nesle Affair, and was enthralled by what had happened. In fact, when I sat down to write this book, I had intended to use it as the basis for my story, but was halted by one inconvenient fact.
It happened in 1314, and the events of our heroes take place in 1297.
No problem. This is, after all, a work of fiction, and I instead used the true story of this affair as inspiration. And while the idea of men hiring others to impregnate their wives to produce a male heir might seem repugnant to us, heredity was so important during this time, that such things did occur, and the Tour de Nesle aftermath was the proof it could sometimes be necessary.
A 340-year dynasty collapsed as a result.
As usual, there are people to thank. My dad, as always, for the research, Susan “Miss Boss” Turnbull for some grammar help, as well as Isabelle Laprise-Enright and Chris Leroux for some French help. And, of course, my wife, daughter, mother, and friends, for their continued support, and a special thanks to the proofreading and launch teams!
To those who have not already done so, please visit my website at www.jrobertkennedy.com, then sign up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of new book releases. Your email address will never be shared or sold, and you’ll only receive the occasional email from me, as I don’t have time to spam you!
Thank you once again for reading.
THE TEMPLAR DETECTIVE IS BACK!
Sir Marcus returns in the international bestseller The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret, now available everywhere!
HAS ONE TEMPLAR’S LOYALTY FALTERED, OR IS SOMETHING MORE SINISTER AT PLAY?
When Templar Knight Sir Marcus de Rancourt’s sergeant and best friend, Simon Chastain, expresses doubts about the new life they have undertaken, Marcus urges him to seek out the family he hasn’t seen in over thirty years, then choose his own path to follow.
But when his trusted sergeant doesn’t return, Marcus knows something must be wrong, for he refuses to believe decades of loyalty and service would be abandoned without any word.
From USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy comes The Templar Detective and the Sergeant’s Secret, a pulse-pounding tale of historical intrigue, packed with mystery, suspense, and humor, perfect for fans of edge-of-your-seat thrillers.
Get your copy of The Templar Detective and the Sergeant’s Secret today, and discover whether a forgotten childhood tragedy ends one man’s life of honorable service to his Lord and the Knights Templar.
To sample or purchase, please visit Kobo, or click here for additional purchase options.
READ A SAMPLE FROM THE TEMPLAR DETECTIVE AND THE SERGEANT'S SECRET ON THE NEXT PAGE!
Sample from The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret
Kingdom of France
1297 AD
Simon Chastain roared in agony as his entire body jerked off the table, his arms and legs stretched to their limits by ropes attached to ratchets that left his naked body racked with pain as his torturer cranked the wheel yet another turn.
It was unlike anything he could have imagined, even at the hands of the Saracens.
But these weren’t Saracens.
These were fellow Frenchmen.
And they weren’t his brothers.
He was a Templar sergeant, and had fought
in the Holy Land for the better part of two decades, but recent events had changed all that. With the death of his master’s sister, he and two trusted squires had followed Sir Marcus de Rancourt back to his childhood home, and a decision had been made.
To stay and raise the orphaned children.
It had been a decision he initially supported, then doubt had set in.
Doubt that had led him here, in some unknown prison, tortured daily, for weeks on end. The pain he could endure, as it would end eventually, though for now, they were keeping him alive for some reason.
It was the solitude between these torturous sessions that would be the death of him.
His faith had prepared him for what was eventually to come, and he didn’t fear it. In fact, he would welcome it after these past weeks, and if it weren’t for his master and friend, he would have given up long ago.
But he couldn’t let go.
Not yet.
For he had to somehow survive, so his master, his friend, Sir Marcus, would know he hadn’t betrayed him. He had to make certain his master knew he had done everything he could to return to his side, his decision made.
He somehow had to get home, home to a farm only weeks ago he had cursed.
A farm that held everything he loved in the world, and worse, everything that loved him.
De Rancourt Residence
Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France
One month earlier
“It’s makeshift, but it will have to do.”
Sir Marcus de Rancourt let his eyes wander around the nearly finished barracks on the farm he now called home. With the death of his sister, several months ago he and his trusted men, Sergeant Simon Chastain, and squires David and Jeremy, had all agreed to remain, giving up the life of brotherhood in the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon—the Knights Templar.
The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress Page 20
