Approaching the de Rohan Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
Marcus held up a fist, bringing them to a halt as he cocked an ear, listening. He could have sworn he had heard a harsh whisper in the darkness of the alleys surrounding them, the sun low on the horizon, the shadows long and unrevealing.
Something wasn’t right.
He had the sense they had been followed for some time, but he had yet to spot anyone, whomever it might be, clearly an expert. Lord Victor had warned them they were in danger, and he had no doubt his warning wasn’t paranoia. Whatever was going on was serious. Four wives of prominent members of the King’s Court stood accused of heinous crimes, their husband’s reputations shattered, and perhaps a foreign government at play, though he had yet to see any evidence to suggest Victor’s theory had any validity to it.
But if it did, then a Templar knight and his sergeant would surely be forfeit if they threatened the plans of those who would involve themselves in such devious undertakings.
A sword drew from a scabbard in an alley to their right, confirming his suspicions. He drew his own, turning to engage the hidden enemy, Simon facing his horse in the opposite direction to cover their rear.
“And here I thought our pleasant day would end uneventfully.”
Marcus grunted. “Unfortunately, someone has different plans for us.” He glanced to his right, two men stepping from the shadows and into the street they had just passed. “I’ve got two on my right.”
“And I have two on my right. Looks like we’re fighting.”
Marcus listened, and two more came from the alleyway he now faced. “It looks that way.” His horse suddenly cried out, rearing up on its hind legs and tossing him from the saddle. It struggled forward several steps before its hindquarters gave out, an arrow embedded deep into the muscle. Simon’s steed whinnied in agony a moment later as an arrow pierced its neck, Simon jumping clear before it collapsed and crushed him.
“Looks like we’re on our feet then.” Marcus surged toward the alley, swinging his sword at the two blocking his path as he tried to escape the aim of the archer who had forced them to their feet. His blow was parried, as was his second, the man evidently skilled, though this fact failed to concern Marcus.
The Lord was on his side, and should he lose, his afterlife was secured.
He parried his opponent’s swing and advanced, grabbing the man’s arm and yanking him forward, plunging his sword into the man’s belly before kicking him off the blade. Simon was already battling the second man, and the fact the archer hadn’t taken either of them out of the battle suggested, at least for the moment, he had no angle.
Simon swung his sword upward from the right, carrying his opponent’s blade high and away, exposing his side. Marcus swung, cleaving a deep gash into the man’s torso, then spun toward the front of the alley, four more now silhouetted in the fading light.
An arrow zipped past Marcus’ ear and he glanced up, an archer now visible across the street, standing in plain view, knowing they had no way to challenge him. Marcus glanced around them, finding nowhere to hide, the darkness in which they found themselves the only thing saving them now.
But the archer would eventually find his mark, and if he didn’t, his friends would likely best at least one of them.
The archer cried out and fell from the roof, gripping his side, his compatriots spinning to witness his body slam into the cobblestone. One of the men cried out, an arrow visible in his neck, and Marcus smiled, thanking the good Lord for sending assistance, whoever it might be.
“Shall we?”
Simon grunted. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Marcus surged forward, Simon at his side, as their opponents, now only three, split their attention between them and the new arrival. A dog snarled, leaping into view, and Marcus smiled as he recognized Tanya. He lunged forward, dropping close to the ground as he swung low, removing the man’s leg below the knee, as Simon pressed forward, piercing the chest of his man. Another, occupied by Tanya’s jaws, dropped from an arrow.
And then there were none.
Tanya was still yanking at her moaning opponent, threatening to tear his arm off.
Marcus saved him from any further suffering. “Tanya, sit!”
The dog immediately obeyed its master, and the man she had been holding scrambled away, helping his one-legged comrade down the street, the rest dead or dying. David emerged from around the corner, a smile on his face.
Marcus knelt down to give Tanya a good scratch. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your asses, apparently.”
Simon stared at one of those he had bested, the last gurgles of life heard. “I think we were just about to get the upper hand.”
“Of course you were.”
Marcus slapped David on the back. “I’m glad you showed up when you did. That archer almost had us.” He frowned. “But where is Lady Joanne? Is she safe?”
“Yes, she’s with Jeremy at Thomas Durant’s home.”
Marcus chuckled. “I’m happy to hear it. I assume there was a problem?”
“Yes. Several of the King’s guard came to arrest her. They tried to rape her, but we fought them off. I felt it was best to leave the farm, just in case.”
“The children?”
“They’re fine. I had sent them to stay with Isabelle and her mother, just in case anything happened.”
“Good thinking.”
David’s eyes widened. “Maybe not.”
“What?”
“I didn’t tell her we were leaving.”
Simon groaned. “There’ll be no living with her now.”
Marcus chuckled. “I’m sending you back first.”
“What did I ever do to you?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
David brought them back to the moment. “Lady Joanne asked of her husband. She wondered if it was safe for her to return.”
Marcus shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so. At the moment, her arrest warrant is probably still valid, and we don’t know yet who wishes her and her husband harm.” He motioned at Tanya. “Take her back to Thomas’, and protect Lady Joanne and Mrs. Thibault. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“Yes, sir.”