by Scott, B. J.
As the sun rose above the horizon, Franc began to pace. He’d hoped to hear from Finlay before they retired for the night, but so far there was no word as to the time and location of the meeting. He shuddered, a sudden sense of foreboding washing over him. While he had no way of knowing for certain what fate held, his gut told him there was trouble afoot.
“What’s on your mind?” Lazarus propped himself up on one elbow, then covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. “You are pacing like a cornered animal.”
“I am sorry if I awakened you,” Franc said.
“I have slept long enough, and it is time I got up anyway.” Lazarus rose and stretched, before approaching Franc. “Is something amiss?”
“I was thinking about the meeting tonight. I would feel a lot better if we knew the time and place.”
Lazarus brushed the leaves from his clothing. “Dinna fash. There is still lots of time and I am sure Finlay will send word soon,” he said. “I know you are anxious to get this over and done, but I would wager the meeting isna the only thing on your mind. I doubt she got much sleep last night either.”
“She?”
“Aye, Giselle.” Lazarus wiggled a brow.
“She has a new life and a family to dream about, not me. I just want to get this over with, and know that the chalice is on its way. I’ve had this responsibility weighing on me for a long time and will be glad to have the burden lifted.”
“You need to relax. We have na seen any sign of the Soldiers and—”
At the sound of a twig snapping, their discussion came to an abrupt halt. Both men spun around in the direction of the noise with their weapons drawn.
“Would either of you be Lord Francois de Valier?” A lad of about twelve summers stepped out of the shadows.
“Who wants to know?” As Franc glared at the lad, he spotted a piece of parchment in his hand.
“Lord Finlay asked me to deliver this missive. I am his squire.” He warily eyed the swords until both men sheathed their weapons.
“I am de Valier.” Franc took the parchment from the boy. “Thank you. Tell your master that the message was delivered.”
The lad bowed, then scurried off.
Franc unraveled the note and read it before stuffing it into a pouch at his side.
“What did it say?” Lazarus asked impatiently.
“The meeting will take place at midnight tonight. We are to go to the mill at the edge of the village, enter through the back, and Finlay will meet us there.”
“Good. Then mayhap you can rest for a while before we leave. You look exhausted,” Lazarus said. “You have scarcely slept a wink since you paid your visit to Finlay."
“I have slept with one eye open since the day I became a Templar knight, and will continue to do so until this is over.”
“Do you plan to talk to Giselle before we leave?”
“Now that I know she is alive, and I no longer need to feel guilty about her death, I am ready to move on. I think it best if we do not see each other again.” He didn’t honestly believe that, but loved her too much to disrupt her life again.
“Can you just walk away, na knowing if the lad is your son, and without telling her how much you love her?” Lazarus asked. “Do you na at least owe her that much, na to mention owe it to yourself?”
“Would you have me destroy a family to once again sate my selfish needs?” Franc snapped. “No. I will leave her alone to live her life. I do owe her that much.
Chapter 13
A full moon provided enough light for Lazarus and Franc to make their way to the mill. Relieved the meeting was finally going to take place, Franc couldn’t wait to honor his commitments, and be free to put the tribulations of the last three years behind him. Eagar to get this over and done, he dismounted, then tied his horse to a tree behind the mill beside Lazarus’s mount and out of plain sight.
“Have you given any thoughts to where you plan to settle once the chalice is on its way to Rosslyn Castle?” Lazarus asked as they strode toward the rear entrance of the mill.
Given his current situation, he wasn’t sure what he’d do or where he’d settle, but doubted he’d ever go back to France. Even though Pope Clement and King Philip IV were dead, the reigning king’s determination to locate the Templar treasure, and to bury the atrocities committed by his father meant that even after he relinquished the chalice, Franc would remain a fugitive, forever looking over his shoulder. “I have yet to decide.”
“You are welcome to stay at Fraser Castle,” Lazarus said. “We can always use a skilled swordsman, and the men could learn a lot from your expertise and experience on the battlefields in the Holy Land.”
“Your brothers may think differently,” Franc said.
“Let me worry about my brothers. Once they get to know you as I do, they will welcome you with open arms.”
“I will consider it.” Franc appreciated Lazarus’s offer, but he’d been on the move for so long, he wasn’t sure if he could settle in one place for any length of time, and without Giselle, he wasn’t certain he wanted to. Some of the knights who’d escaped to Scotland fought for King Robert the Bruce. Franc found the idea of taking up arms against a tyrannical English king reputed to be as harsh on his Templar brothers as Philip, appealing.
While in La Rochelle, he’d also heard tell of a newly discovered land across a great sea. A secret place known only to the Templars and Norsemen who had already ventured there. It certainly would put more than enough distance between him and those hunting for him, so was not out of the question as far as Franc was concerned.
When they reached the back of the mill, Lazarus whispered to Franc, “Are you ready?”
Franc nodded, but as he watched his friend shove open the door, then disappear into the darkness, a shiver of trepidation ran down his spine. “Be careful,” he whispered. “I suddenly have a bad feeling that something might go wrong.” Franc slipped inside, then made his way down a narrow passageway, stopping at a large oak door. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened.
“What are you waiting for?” Lazarus asked and reached for the latch.
“Wait!” Franc grasped his friend’s wrist and lowered his voice to a whisper. “There is something amiss.” He listened again to be sure that what he’d heard was correct. “French agents are on the other side of this door and if I am not mistaken, they have Finlay.”
“Damnation.” Lazarus dragged his fingers through his hair, then shook his head. “I should have known when there were no Frenchmen skulking around the village that there was something wrong.”
“They just warned Finlay that if he refuses to inform them where they can find the missing pieces of the treasure and the fugitive knights, they will cut out his heart, and feed it to the dogs. They also threatened to go after his family and kill them too.”
After being on the receiving end of their wrath many times, Franc knew these merciless blackguards did not make empty threats. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do to help Finlay, and he feared the worst. Not only were he and Lazarus no match for undetermined odds, but Finlay was a former Templar and bargaining with these blackguards was not something he would consider. His gut clenched when his thoughts turned to Giselle and her son. Certain the wretches would make good on their threats and head for town once they finished here, he vowed to warn them and see them safe before it was too late.
“We must find Giselle and advise her of the impending danger,” Franc whispered. “There is naught we can do for her uncle, and we will have to take the chalice to Rosslyn Castle ourselves.” He hurried down the passageway toward the door, uncertain what awaited them on the other side.
Lazarus followed and grasped Franc’s arm as he was about to exit. “Hold. If they knew about this place and the meeting, there could be men waiting to jump us.” He drew his sword.
Franc freed his blade as well, then squared his shoulders. If Lazarus was right, and they were walking into a trap, their chances of escape were slim-to-none. But his need to warn Giselle outweighed the personal risk, so he prepared to forge ahead. “We will never know until we look,” he said and pushed the door open.
They stepped into the moonlight and were pleasantly surprised to find themselves alone. The French were obviously confident that they’d catch their prey with ease, or perhaps they did not know about the entrance at the rear of the building. Relieved that their presence appeared to go undetected, and their mounts remained tied in the bushes behind the mill where they’d left them, he raced toward the animals with one thing on his mind. Franc had to save Giselle.
“We must make haste,” Franc said in a hushed voice and climbed atop his destrier. “We need to get to the village before the French do. I’ll not run the risk of her being captured and tortured.”
“Do you know where she lives?” Lazarus asked as he hauled himself into the saddle.
“We will start at her uncle’s place and go from there.” Franc turned his horse toward the village and sped off.
Upon entering Kinloch, they slowed their mounts to a walk. The last thing they needed was to draw any attention to themselves. Aside from some activity at the tavern, the streets were empty, and all appeared quiet. Franc searched the area, thankful when he saw no sign of French agents. But that didn’t mean they were not lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce, so he refused to let down his guard until they’d found Giselle and he knew she was safe.
They entered through the rear of Finlay’s building and crept through the storage room, being careful not to make a sound. When they reached the door leading into the shop, Franc opened it a crack and listened before going any farther. “Wait here,” he said to Lazarus and slipped into the room. Certain they were alone, he motioned for his friend to join him. “No one is here. There appears to be two other rooms and a loft, we need to see if Giselle is in any of them. If you can search down here, I will go above.”
While Lazarus checked the rooms on the main floor, Franc climbed the ladder to the loft, then crept toward the bed where he saw a woman sleeping. He carefully slid his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, then whispered in her ear when she began to thrash about. “Shhh, do not be afraid. I mean you no harm, m’lady.”
The woman struggled to break free of his grasp and tried to bite his hand, but she was no match for Franc’s strength and finally settled.
In the dark room it was difficult to see the woman’s face, and he was uncertain if Finlay had a wife. But as rays of moonlight filtered through the window, Franc realized it was Giselle. “It is Francois. Promise me you will not shout, and I will uncover your mouth.” When she nodded, he released her and helped her to sit up.
With a hand clutched to her throat, Giselle glared at him. “What are you doing in my bedchamber?” She tugged the covers under her chin.”
While he could hardly consider a small loft above a boot shop a chamber, he understood her surprise. “I’ve come to warn you.”
“About what? It is the middle of the night.”
“Your uncle was captured by members of the French Guard tonight and I fear if you stay here, they will come for you as well.”
“They have my uncle?” she squeaked.
“Franc lowered his gaze. He detested the idea of relaying the rest of the sad news, and couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. “We were supposed to meet with him at the mill, and when we arrived, he was being interrogated.”
“Could you not do something to help him?” she asked. “What makes you think they will come here?”
“I’m sorry, but there was naught we could do. We were seriously outnumbered, and feared any attempt to rescue him would force his attacker’s hand,” Franc said. “As it stood, they threatened to kill him if he did not tell them what they want to know about the Templar activity in Scotland.” He saw no point in relaying the gory details of how they planned to kill him, but he hoped she understood the severity of the situation. “They said if he did not surrender the information they requested, they would kill him first, then slaughter his family.”
“Like you, my uncle was once a Templar knight and does not know the meaning of the word surrender.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stifled a sob with the back of her hand.
“You know firsthand what evil King Philip’s henchmen are capable of.” It broke his heart to be so blunt, and he hated to remind her of the past and her father’s death, but needed to impress upon her the importance of leaving. “We must get your family out of here before the buggers show up. Where is your husband?” He quickly glanced around the room.
“My husband?”
“You are married, are you not?” Franc asked.
“I was wed, but Fergus died more than two summers ago in a battle with the English. He fought under King Robert the Bruce.”
“I overheard the boy ask to go see his papa today when you were in the street, so I naturally assumed you were still wed,” Franc whispered.
“He likes to visit Fergus’s grave.” She wiped a tear from her cheeks, then sniffled. “He believes his papa’s spirit is there, and he will sit for hours babbling on about his days. I do not have the heart to tell him Fergus is gone and cannot hear him, but see no harm in letting him believe a little longer.”
“What is wrong, Mama? Why are you crying?” The lad sat up and scrubbed his eyes with a balled fist. “Why is this man in our room?”
“Do not worry, mon amour. This is my friend Francois, and he means us no harm,” she cooed to the boy. She stroked her fingertips along his cheek, then cupped his chin. “I need you to do something for me. Get up and put on your tunic, trews, and boots. We are going on a wee adventure.”
The lad cocked his head and stared up at his mother. “It is dark outside. Is Uncle Harold coming too?”
“Not this time.” Her voice cracked with emotion, but she managed to hold her tears at bay.
“Will he na fash if we leave without telling him?”
“He will understand,” she replied, then cast a wary glance at Franc before returning her attention to the boy. “I know it is dark outside, but now is when we must go. I want you to be a brave lad and make me proud. Can you do that?”
The boy bobbed his head, then hopped out of bed and did as his mother requested. “Can I bring my sword with me?” He wielded the wooden toy in the air. “I want to kill the English like my da.”
“Oui, you can bring it along,” she said as she slid from the bed and began to don her gown and slippers. “Where are we going, Francois?”
“That has yet to be determined. I only know we must get you out of here as swiftly as possible. Once we are away, we will decide how best to proceed,” Franc replied.
“Did you find anyone?” Lazarus called from below.
“Giselle and her son are here. They are getting dressed and we will be right down,” Franc said.
Giselle’s eyes widened. “Who is in the shop?”
“A friend,” Franc answered simply. He couldn’t waste time explaining now, so the introductions would have to wait until after they got away.
“Tell them to make haste. French soldiers are in the village and headed this way, and we mustna dally.” Lazarus didn’t bother to hide the urgency in his voice.
“You heard him, we must be away.” Franc scooped up the boy, clasped Giselle’s wrist, and tugged her toward the ladder. “When your father and cousin were captured, I was not there to intervene, but I am here now and will not let them take you.”
“No.” Giselle planted her feet and refused to move. “What about our things? All we have in this world is here.”
Franc stifled the urge to chuckle. This was certainly not a time for levity, but he f
ound it amusing that she wanted to take time to pack when the French guard were breathing down their necks. He tightened his grip when she tried to break free. “You will have no need of material things if captured. Come. We must be away before it is too late.”
Giselle cast a wary glance around the room, then nodded. “You are right. But may we at least bring Fergus’s sword and my mother’s emerald brooch?”
“Oui, but you must hurry. We have tarried long enough.” He released her wrist, then handed the lad over to Lazarus. “Take him to the horses. I will bring Giselle.”
“I want my mama,” the lad squealed and began to kick and squirm.
“She will be along, boy,” Franc said. “Go with Lazarus, and dinna give him any trouble.”
“You fash about the lass, Franc, I can manage a wee snip of a lad.” He smiled at the boy. “Your mam is coming with us. Be a good laddie and I will take you for a ride on my horse.” Lazarus carried the child across the shop and into the storeroom.
Franc turned to Giselle. “Do you have what you need?”
After pinning the brooch to her arisaidh and handing Franc her husband’s weapon, she headed toward the ladder. “I am ready to go.”
Franc climbed down ahead of her, then waited for Giselle to follow. As they reached the main floor, someone began pounding on the front door. “Open up, or we will break it down.”
“Hurry!” Franc snagged her hand, then dragged her through the storage room and out the back door of the shop—just as he heard the wood of the front door splintering. He plunked her atop of his horse, quickly mounted behind her, then nodded to Lazarus who had the lad tucked securely on his lap. “Ride!”
Chapter 14
They rode hard through the night and didn’t spare the horses until they had put several miles behind them, and the sun rose above the horizon. Convinced no one followed, Franc reined in his destrier and dismounted. He wrapped his hands around Giselle’s waist and lifted her from the saddle. “We’ll take a short rest, break our morning fast, then be off again.”
