"Did St Andre lead his men personally?"
"No." She hesitated, reluctant to share the final piece of information, knowing what it would provoke. "He gave Edouard de Chamfort the command." She saw the Chancellor's face change, the moment of excitement.
"But this is what we have been waiting for," said Basile. "We must take this information to the King. The suggestion that Chamfort is engaged in some perfidy will be enough to convince Ferdinand to investigate. Our hands will no longer be tied. We will have the mandate we need to expose this evil."
"No."
"Why not?" Basile was leaning forward his thin face avid. "This is what we need, a safe way to persuade the King to act."
"But, you must see, if he acts it will not be for the right reason. It will be to bring Rupert and Chamfort down. Those we hunt will likely escape unnoticed in the storm that follows and we will have achieved nothing."
Mariette spoke sharply, afraid of Basile's enthusiasm. "Whatever his son has done, there is nothing to link Prince Rupert to this, but Ferdinand will not care." She saw that he disagreed and insisted. He had not been at court during the years of tension between the King and Prince Rupert. "We must have evidence against St Andre, and we must find the truth behind these attacks. Or all we will achieve is to provide a scapegoat that will, at best, let the evil behind this go free. At worst, it could provoke civil war. Perhaps that is just what the shadow seeks?"
Basile was silent for a moment, his gaze on the papers he held. "Are you so certain the Prince is innocent? I have reports that his meetings with St Andre went well. They seemed to reach an understanding."
She did not ask how he knew this, but the knowledge, and the slant of it, chilled her. He must have spies at Chamfort. Did this mean he shared Ferdinand's distrust in Rupert? She supposed it was natural he would do so.
She spoke quickly, "Of course he has meetings with St Andre. The Marechal is at Chamfort as the King's envoy. It is in Rupert's interest to get on with him."
"That is true." Basile sipped wine and then said softly, "And the instructions St Andre carries will not please the Prince. It might be that Chamfort, threatened by the King, will welcome a powerful ally. Who better than St Andre?"
"The King has moved against Chamfort?" This was terrible news. "What has Ferdinand done?"
"What he has longed to do. He has found a way to reduce Chamfort's strength. He has decided to claim Chamfort's best knights for his own household."
However such a request was couched, it would be seen as a slight to Chamfort and a slur on the Prince. Some would believe the King was uncertain of his brother's loyalty.
Basile continued, "The King has also decided that Rupert's youngest boys, the twins, Louis and Henri, should be fostered at Etrives. Away from Chamfort, the boys will become pawns." He leaned forward and his gaze was intense. "Add to that the rumor Duke Lorenzo is pushing for a marriage between his eldest son and Eloise de Chamfort, you might see why Prince Rupert would be vulnerable now."
She wondered what part Basile had played in these plans. "But he is not stupid. What could St Andre offer that would be worth the risk of outright treason?"
Basile shrugged. "I don't know, but these reports suggest a growing sympathy between the Prince and the Marechal."
"In the circumstances that means nothing. Rupert can hardly afford to antagonize St Andre." She glanced toward the door, knowing the secretary would return soon. Basile was a clever young man, but his ambitions and obsessions might be dangerous. She spoke quickly. "When my Captain returns we will know more. He may even bring proof. Until then you will keep silent about Edouard de Chamfort." She made it a command and saw he did not like it.
"And in the meantime, the slaughter continues?"
"Mathieu is on the way to meet up with the men the Compact has been training. Soon we will be able to send them where they may offer help and protection."
Frowning, Basile stared into his glass. "And do you think it is wise, a band of armed men moving openly in the area where there has been trouble. It is likely they will attract attention. Dangerous attention. They could be suspected, or become the excuse for our enemy's actions."
"Mathieu is aware of the dangers. You can be sure he will not move carelessly and, if necessary, the men can be quartered at Montmercy or Broudogne. But if there is a chance to help then we must be ready."
"But how likely is it they will come across such a chance? The attacks are seemingly random, the knights move fast. They strike and disappear."
"Jai and Bruno have been watching Chamfort. If the attacks continue in the woods around Chamfort, they will be close enough to act. You can trust Mathieu." She heard a noise from the next room and knew there was no more time.
Basile heard it too. He rose and moved towards the door.
She blocked his way. "Basile, I must have your word that you will not use what I have told you. Not yet. If he is guilty, I will give you Edouard de Chamfort, and through him St Andre, I swear, but you must wait." After a moment, he nodded, reluctantly.
Leaving him, she thought he would honor his promise, for now.
Chapter 40
Remy hunched down in the saddle and shivered, trying to escape the bitter wind. There was ice in the wind, even beneath the trees. It lashed through the forest, and the trees creaked and moaned before it like damned souls. His horse flattened its ears and crabbed sideways, unsettled. The snow was nearly gone, but it had left huge, icy puddles and turned the forest roads to deep mud. Shivering, Remy wished for a place by a warm fire away from all his troubles.
In front of him, Mathieu and Jaime rode side by side. They appeared relaxed, but their eyes were constantly scanning the trees and the road ahead. Bruno brought up the rear, equally alert. Remy did not know what trouble they expected, and he supposed their watchfulness should make him feel safe, but he did not think he would ever feel safe again. He had no reason to doubt Mathieu and his men. They had done all they promised, making plans to get him away from Chamfort town, keeping him safe from the men hunting him. They had promised to see him home as soon as their business was done, and he believed they would. Still, it was hard to trust.
His gaze lingered on Jaime's back. His rescuer was the least friendly of the three, and there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. Remy could not recall the memory. Over the days, he had come to be a little afraid of Jaime. He always seemed so angry, and often Remy felt that anger was directed at him. After the steely efficiency of his rescue, Jaime had treated him with contempt, clearly unwilling to accept his continued silence.
Remy did feel bad about that. He owed them something for their help and kindness. But he would not risk telling his story, however much that angered Jaime. He guessed it was only Mathieu's presence that prevented Jaime from badgering him to reveal what he had witnessed at Chamfort. That was the worst of it; they knew he had secrets. Indeed, they seemed to know a lot about him.
Remy thought he might have trusted Mathieu with what he had seen. But there was too much he did not understand, and he had learned that it was dangerous to place your trust in others. His thoughts turned to Simon. The old man's death had been his fault, and he felt the familiar ache of regret.
He was jerked back to the present as his horse barged in to the back of Jaime's. His inattention earned him a scowl. Looking up, he saw they had reached a crossroads. To the north, the road crossed a small, swift-flowing river. Mathieu came to a halt at the top of the riverbank. He stood in his stirrups to scan the roads before urging his horse off the road beneath the trees.
"He will be along soon. We'll wait here."
Remy followed, wondering who they were waiting for. No one offered to explain, and for a while, the three men sat their horses in silence. It was not long before Jaime began to stir and look around impatiently.
"Where is the damn man, he should be waiting for us," he grumbled.
"He'll be coming from the south. Go look for him if you like, Jai," Mathieu said easily.
; Jaime didn't answer; he spurred his horse through the ford and cantered off along the road. He was soon lost to sight, hidden by the trees, and there was only the distant sound of hooves. Mathieu sighed and looked round.
"You can dismount for a while, Remy, and have a bite to eat if you like." He gave a tired smile. "Tonight, with luck, we should have cooked food and a warm, dry bed."
Aware he was being dismissed; Remy dismounted and moved a little way off to find a place to sit. The men discussed very little in front of him. He could hardly blame then for keeping their secrets. He watered and tethered his horse, and then settled on a fallen branch with his pack. After two nights in a barn, the thought of a bed and hot food was enough to cheer him. He found apples and bread in his pack. Mathieu and Bruno had moved a little way off, but if he listened hard, he could just make out what they were saying.
"Jai's strung tight since Chamfort," Mathieu said, uncapping his water flask.
"Aye, I know," Bruno did not glance towards Remy, but he seemed to choose his words. "She said something to upset him, but he won't say anything about what happened."
"It will be the old trouble," said Mathieu. "I could wish she had more care for what she says to him."
"He said something to provoke her no doubt." Bruno bit into an apple. " I don't think she realizes the guilt he carries. If she could just find a kind word for him…"
Mathieu was silent for a moment as he fed the apple core to his horse. "Keep an eye on him, if there's trouble to be found, in this mood he'll find it, and we have the boy to think of now."
Feeling their eyes on him, Remy dropped his head and concentrated on his food. He did not have a chance to ponder the strange conversation, beyond wondering why Jaime should be so upset by a girl.
The drum of hoofbeats announced Jaime's return, and following him a small convoy of carts. Jaime came through the ford fast, splashing water high into the air. He drew his horse to a plunging halt alongside Mathieu. The horse pranced and sidled. Not waiting for the carts and riders to arrive, Jaime spoke urgently.
"We have news. Edouard de Chamfort has ridden out from Chamfort with St Andre's men. We must go after him."
"Is there any other news?" Mathieu asked, frowning, and clearly refusing to be caught up in Jaime's wild excitement.
"Nothing else of much interest." Jaime shrugged impatiently. "He says it is hard to get anything out of the Prince's people now. Not so surprising, traitors keep their secrets close."
"We have no proof against anyone at Chamfort," Mathieu said sharply. He sounded annoyed.
"That's why we need to follow Edouard de Chamfort. Then we will have the proof."
His appetite lost at the mention of Sieur Edouard, Remy folded the rest of his food away and pushed it back into his pack. He untied his horse and checked the girth, keeping his head down. When he turned back, the wagons, a small merchant train, had crossed the ford. The merchant, a wiry, wrinkled man, halted his horse alongside Mathieu and nodded an abrupt greeting. He looked uneasy.
"Jaime will have told you," he said. "I've little news. Most of the Prince's noble guests have left Chamfort now. The Marechal St Andre and Baron Joachim are gone too. I don't know where they're headed, but his men have gone north with Edouard de Chamfort. The town remains unsettled since the Mayor's death and the other murders."
"Have there been more murders since we left?" Bruno asked.
The man shook his head. "No more, but rumor has it that Charles de Chamfort was attacked at the chateau and badly hurt."
"By whom?"
"No one knows, and no one from the chateau will talk about it. It's caused quite a stir." The merchant looked anxiously towards his departing wagons. "It's a bad time to be around Chamfort. If you want my advice, your best bet is to see if you can pick up the trail of the Marechal's men and de Chamfort. See where they lead you. Word is they are clearing outlaws for the King. But bad tales are reaching the town. It's hard to pin down where the rumors come from, word filters back from all over, and people are growing leery that bands of knights are marauding through the woods. There must be people from the villages who can tell you more." The wagons were out of sight now, and he raised a hand in farewell. "Sorry, I have nothing more for you."
They watched him go. Jaime was ripping a piece of bread with his teeth and spoke with his mouth full. "Forget the villagers, if we find them, they won't speak. They never do. We spent months searching for answers at Montmercy. We need to go after de Chamfort, prove St Andre's men are behind the attacks, that they are the shadow knights."
"You know it's not that simple. St Andre's men were not at Montmercy. And what proof will we have if we do find them in the Chamfort woods? They have the King's mandate."
"Not if they are burning innocent villages. Anyway, with St Andre gone, likely this will be the moment the knights become less cautious. If the past is anything to go by, they'll not be content with terrorizing a few small villages."
Mathieu shook his head. "Without the men Robert has gathered, there will be nothing we can do to stop the knights doing just what they please to these people. You want us to stand by and watch?"
"No." Tension and anger made Jaime's voice break slightly. "You ride to fetch Robert and the Compact's men and bring them here. We'll track de Chamfort and the shadow knights and send word."
"We don't know they are the shadow knights," Mathieu said, but his resistance seemed to be fading. He glanced round. "What of the boy?"
"He can ride with Bruno and me. We'll be tracking them, nothing more. Anyway, as he is so fond of telling us, the boy knows nothing of Sieur Edouard." Jaime glanced round, and Remy struggled to meet his gaze.
Mathieu's face creased in a frown, etching lines around his mouth and eyes deeper. "I'm not sure. What if you come across trouble?"
"We can hardly take the shadow knights on with just two of us," said Jaime, reasonably. "We'll be tracking them, nothing more. You're not afraid are you, boy?"
They were all looking at him now. Stung by Jaime's contempt, he shook his head. "No." It was not like he had a choice, not really. If he made a fuss, they would know there was something between him and Sieur Edouard. Jaime would never let that lie.
Mathieu turned to Bruno. "What do you think?"
"I think we have to take a risk. We've a chance to find the proof we need, and a chance to help. If we all ride to fetch the men, likely it will be too late."
Jaime's horse fidgeted. "We need to get moving," he said. "We'll meet you at Alain's, or leave word for you there."
Mathieu nodded. He reached down to tighten his horse's girth. When he straightened, he looked to Jaime, holding his gaze. "Take care of the boy. We gave him a promise." He turned to smile at Remy. "I'll see you soon." Then he wheeled his horse and headed west.
It had all happened so fast. Remy stared after him, already feeling uneasy. It was too late, but he wished he had spoken up and asked to go with Mathieu. He guessed it was not that simple. Mathieu had accepted the plan too easily. Likely it was because there were other secrets they wanted to keep from him. Jaime's impatient shout dragged him back to the present.
"Come on, boy, enough daydreaming. We need to ride."
The afternoon and evening passed in a blur. Remy had never ridden so far or fast in such a short time. It was dark when Bruno finally called a halt, against Jaime's objections. They made camp among the damp trees, deep in the woods away from any road. Remy thought resentfully of the warm bed and food he had been promised. Thanks to Jaime, they would spend another night cold and wet. Sent to find firewood, he was not inclined to go far and returned quickly with a bundle of damp sticks.
Jaime looked at this meager offering and glared at him. "That rubbish won't even get a fire started."
For a moment too cross to care, Remy scowled back at him and stood firm. He had done what was asked, and there was nothing wrong with the wood he had collected. They glared at each other across the fallen twigs. As the silence lengthened, Remy's courage faded, and he began
to feel anxious. He looked for Bruno, hoping that he had returned from watering the horses. There was no sign of Bruno. He felt a stab of anxiety as Jaime took a menacing step towards him.
"Get on with it, boy. We're not here to wait on you."
Remy wanted to answer back, to say no one had ever waited on him. Instead, he turned his back and trudged off to find more wood, making do with muttering under his breath. For a while, he kicked aimlessly through the leaves. High above, beyond the treetops, he could glimpse the night sky, bright with stars. It was going to be a cold night. Not looking where he was going he walked into something hard and unforgiving. He struggled to get away, but his coat was held. It felt like a hand gripped him. He staggered back, the grip loosened and he half fell. As he scrambled to his feet, something large moved among the trees close by. His scream came out as a croak and he cowered back.
Bruno stepped from the shadows. "Remy, are you all right?"
He nodded, unable to find his voice. Then he realized that Bruno could hardly see him in the dark. "Yes, just looking for firewood," he said.
"I'll help." The big man came closer. With his scarred face hidden by the darkness, his voice seemed kinder. He started to collect an armful of wood. "Don't take any notice of Jaime. He doesn't mean to be hard you. He just doesn't think."
Remy said nothing, he was quite sure Jaime meant to be nasty.
Bruno continued. "You're not with us for long. Stay out of his way and it'll be fine."
"I try to." After a day of silence, it was nice to talk to someone, and Bruno seemed friendly. "What's wrong with him?"
Bruno seemed to consider this. He came to a halt, resting the pile of wood on his hip. "Jaime's hard driven. Some men are like that, driven by things that happened in their past. Things they'd like to change. Perhaps you can understand that?" After a moment he continued. "And he thinks you know something that can help us."
"I don't." Remy stopped a few paces away, clutching the pile of sticks protectively. "I never asked for his help," he said, hating that it sounded ungrateful, but he was determined to make the point and too scared to say it direct to Jaime.
Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3) Page 37
