De Courtenay Residence
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Something’s wrong!”
Gerard stopped what he was doing, brush in midair as he held the lead for one of the master’s many fine horses. The ado was coming from the main gate to the estate, and he hurried to return the massive beast to its stall so he could see what was happening.
“Get the mistress!”
His eyes widened. Though he was still young, in all his years, he had never heard the lady of the house called for in such a panic.
Something truly horrible must be going on.
He slapped the horse gently on the hindquarters, and it hurried forward the final few steps into the stall. He yanked it closed, making sure it was locked, then sprinted toward the courtyard, his eyes wide with excitement, hoping he hadn’t missed whatever was transpiring.
As he came out into the failing light of the early evening, he skidded to a halt, spotting a number of the staff gathered around the master’s horse.
What are they all excited about?
The mistress rushed down the steps, accompanied by her entourage, her face one of business, and he had to admit it was odd to see her at this hour. The master usually came home around now from the palace, and she’d be inside preparing for dinner. Their greetings never took place outside.
The master!
Lord Victor wasn’t among those gathered around the horse. His eyes narrowed further as he struggled to see him through the crowd, and as it parted for the mistress, he was sure he wasn’t there.
Then where is he?
“It arrived like this?” demanded the mistress.
“Yes, M’Lady. Without a rider.”
She pointed at someone. “Send a runner to the Court to check on my husband. And bring a spare horse. I’m sure this one simply got away and made her way here. No need to panic. She’s made the ride thousands of times and knows her way.” She gave the steed a gentle pat on the neck. “Now everyone, back to work, we won’t worry until there’s something to worry about!”
The crowd broke, and somebody sprinted past him for the stables, no doubt the runner ordered. He stepped forward and took the lead of his master’s horse from one of the guards, and led her back to the stable, noticing her nose kept turning to the left, as if she were trying to scratch herself where the saddle was.
“What is it, girl, is something bothering you?”
The horse snorted as they entered the stable. He tied her lead to a post, then proceeded to remove the saddle. A bundle of papers fell to the ground.
“What’s this?” He picked up the pages, staring at what was written on them, the two columns of letters on each page nothing but chicken scratches to him. “Did someone stick this under your saddle? No wonder you ran away. The bastards.” He tossed the pages into the corner, cursing, the horse snorting with what sounded to him to be satisfaction.
He proceeded to brush her down, paying particular attention to the area where the papers had irritated her. “There, there, girl, you’re okay now. We’ll get you all settled, and you’ll be all better in no time.”
He glanced at the papers in the corner as the runner left with two horses, the question of what had happened to his master forgotten.
Who would do such a thing?