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Day Two
Philippe
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Philippe hadn’t told David the truth about what happened to those who’d worked on the palace because he would have been appalled to learn that the workers had been killed rather than risk knowledge of the secret passages getting out into the world. At that point, they would have been rendered useless, if not a liability, because even the king himself would not have known who might be listening.
Though David wasn’t as weak as Nogaret thought—Philippe himself had witnessed David’s strength—he thought honor, uprightness, and truthfulness were more important than power. And when one was a king, that was a weakness that others could exploit.
Because the French crown was pragmatic, no word of the secret passages had ever spread beyond those same palace walls.
Until now.
It was Philippe’s own fault, of course, for rescuing David and his family through them. Then again, since David was the only one who could save Philippe’s family and get him out from under Nogaret’s yoke, it felt at the time like a trade Philippe could live with. David had honor, and Philippe was perfectly willing to use it against him.
But now ...
He crouched in order to run his fingers through the dust that had accumulated on the floor of his secret passage. Two distinct footprints were revealed at the spot where an eyehole had been installed to look into one of the many guest rooms in this wing.
He lowered his lantern so it would shine on the floor and put his own foot next to the mark. It appeared to be made from a boot rather than a slipper like he wore, soft-soled so as to make as little noise as possible. The foot was smaller than his too, that of a woman or a small man. He rubbed his chin as he studied it. He’d never noticed footprints other than his own in the passage before, and he sent a grateful prayer to his father for telling him to leave the dust in the passages to accumulate—for just this very reason.
Then voices came from the other side of the wall, one with the mid-range clarity of Nogaret.
Philippe doused the lantern so no light would shine from this side of the wall when he pulled the cork from the eyehole, which he then proceeded to do with great delicacy. Flote, Nogaret, and the Avalonian from David’s court, the one named George, stood in the middle of the room, arguing.
“You. Owe. Me.” With his index finger, George poked Nogaret in the chest to punctuate each word.
“The situation is not irretrievable,” Nogaret said, speaking mildly in that annoying way he had.
“How is it not irretrievable? David is gone. You let him get away.”
“He hasn’t left the city.”
George guffawed. “How could you possibly know that?”
Nogaret gestured to Flote. “Pierre questioned the guards at all the gates. It would be one thing if David were alone, but he is accompanied by three women, two men, and four children. No party that large left the city before we knew he was gone.”
George flung out a hand. “He could have floated downriver from the palace. He could have been out of the city like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“Only one small boat is moored near the palace, and it is still there.”
George threw up his hands. “So he had help!”
Philippe was relieved to hear the boat was where it was supposed to be. It was one piece of his escape plan he hadn’t entirely thought through. At the same time, George was right that its return—and David’s ability to remain free—meant he did have help. It had probably been ridiculous for any of them to have thought David wouldn’t. And yet, it was a bit chilling to think there were pieces in play Philippe did not know about.
Of course, there were things he hadn’t told David either, beyond the true fate of the castle workers.
“We began a house to house search of the city immediately after we realized he was missing.” Flote was undeterred. “Someone will have seen something. That was too many people too late at night, to hide forever. We think we may have found some link to him in a house on the riverfront on the left bank. The neighbors say it was occupied for several months and had many visitors, but was abandoned this morning.”
George scoffed. “It was a brothel.”
“They say no.”
George’s expression then turned to one of curiosity, and he said musingly, “It could have been a safe house.”
“A what?” Nogaret said.
Philippe didn’t know what a safe house was either, but maybe he could guess.
“Never mind.” George made a dismissive motion. “You took my weapons, and so far, I have received nothing for them.”
“I can get you money.” That was Nogaret, always spending. That said, the Avalonian weapons George had given them in exchange for Arthur were worth their weight in gold. Philippe had known he was foiling that deal when he’d released David and his family. But he was the King of France. It was his prerogative to break deals when it became necessary.
“I don’t want your money. Money cannot replace Arthur.” George snorted his derision. “Tell me you at least found the plane.”
Flote bobbed a nod. “It’s near Vincennes, on abbey grounds.”
Nogaret turned on his underling. “You didn’t tell me that!”
“It slipped my mind until now. I didn’t know you cared about its location.”
Nogaret slapped the back of his hand on Flote’s chest. “It flies, you idiot. Why wouldn’t I want to know?”
“It’s probably already gone,” George said in disgust, “with David and Arthur in it.”
“I was going to Vincennes tonight anyway to check in with the guards,” Nogaret said. “I want to know if the plane is still there. If it is, perhaps David hasn’t left yet.”
“Or perhaps he has another way out of France,” George said.
“Do you really want to take that chance?” Nogaret asked.
“No,” George said, somewhat grudgingly.
“Send word to me at Vincennes when you know more, and if I have news, I will reach you through one of the abbey lay workers, who is one of mine.” Without waiting for a reply, expecting his order to be obeyed, Nogaret left the room.
Philippe wanted to shout leave my family alone! But, of course, he couldn’t. He could only pray that David would get to them first.
Meanwhile, Flote was looking at George expectantly, which prompted George to scoff again. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute. Surely you can find something with which to occupy yourself while I gather my things?”
Flote looked grumpy, but he complied. Only then did Philippe realize the room was George’s personal chamber, rather than merely a private place to talk.
When they’d both gone, George remained standing in the center of the room, looking down at his feet and with a finger to his lips. Then, after a count of ten, he looked up and said, “Was that informative, Philippe?” He spun slowly on one heel. “I know about those passages, how you spy on your court through them. I haven’t found an entrance yet, but if you’re listening, you’d better be careful! It must have occurred to you that David could have used them to escape. I kept your little secret, God knows why, and now look what it cost me.”
Philippe was frozen in position, his eye to the hole. He didn’t dare move in case the slightest sound or motion gave him away.
Then George paused, and a look of pure astonishment crossed his face. “Wait a minute! Did you release him?” He laughed heartily. “My God, what if you did! Wait until I suggest it to Nogaret!” But then he sobered, and, like his astonishment, it was an instant transformation. “Does that mean you told David about our little deal and how even now Artois is attacking Angoulême with the weapons I gave you? Or are you playing both sides against the middle?” He was back to his thinking pose, which he held for longer this time.
When he looked up next, his expression was intent. “Maybe you’re not here. Be pretty great if I’m just talking to myself, and you’re tucked up safe in some latrine like last time.” Then he nodded. “But I have to assume David knows about me.” He paused. “And act accordingly.”
And with that, he threw a few things into a satchel, swung it over his shoulder, and strode from the room.
Philippe stepped back from the eyehole and popped in the cork. His entire body was shaking from a combination of rage and fear. He’d done his best to manipulate them all—David, Nogaret, George—but the problem lay in that none of them served Philippe himself or had his best interests at heart.
He took in a breath and squared his shoulders. He would have to take action himself before the situation spiraled completely out of control. But how? That answer he didn’t yet know.
