Rue des Barres
Paris, Kingdom of France
Simon stood in the shadows, chilled to the bone, the cold of France in the fall teeth-chattering compared to the warmth of the desert. Though it could get cold overnight as the ground gave up its heat, it was nothing compared to this.
And at least in the Holy Land, one knew come morning, the chill would rapidly dissipate, and the unbearable heat would return.
He stared at the street, his master’s instructions still perplexing.
Do nothing.
Nothing? Why nothing? If the Germans’ contact showed, then why weren’t they going to capture him and make him talk? It made no sense to him, but then again, Marcus was a knight, and the master strategist of the group. He trusted him with his life, and would always obey the man’s orders, even if they made no sense to him.
David and Jeremy had arrived on schedule, the message delivered, and now they all waited, hidden, waiting to do nothing, if things were to go according to plan. The two squires were in position with their bows, covering the streets below should something go wrong, though Marcus had indicated he expected it to be uneventful.
Nothing should be done unless lives were in danger.
Simon stamped his feet, trying to keep warm, wondering how much longer it would be before their prey was to arrive.
Prey.
He growled.
You hunt prey, you don’t watch it then let it get away.
But Marcus was smart, far smarter than him. He claimed to know who was involved, which was much more than he could say for himself. He had no clue. King Adolf was probably involved, but who was acting on his behalf? He had no idea beyond those they had already killed, and the three young men who had turned themselves in to further the conspiracy.
And who was pulling the strings? He was at a loss, and that was why he couldn’t understand Marcus not wanting to capture the man they hoped would be showing up any minute now.
Maybe you aren’t ready to be a knight.
Horse’s hooves on cobblestone echoed through the night, and he withdrew deeper into the shadows. It could be their target, or it could merely be someone passing through. The streets weren’t exactly deserted at this hour, though men on horseback were indeed few, this not an area of the city known for its wealth, though it wasn’t the squalor poor Thomas had grown up in.
The lone figure passed his position, a hooded cloak hiding his features, and Simon’s heart rate ticked up a few notches as he realized this could indeed be the man, as most on horseback, at least those who were honest men, were usually proud to show their faces.
He peered across the street, and could see the alleyway Marcus was hiding in, but saw no evidence of him. He too was sticking to the plan, a plan that was irritating him. Their man was right there, not ten paces from him. Simon gripped the hilt of his sword, but held his place.
The man came to a stop, looking about. Nothing was said, no calls into the dark, just several snorts from the horse. There was no doubt now that this was the man they were waiting for. Simon desperately wanted to rush from his position, pull the man from his horse, and end all of this intrigue this minute.
But what if he’s only a messenger?
His jaw dropped. This man could be nobody. He could simply have been sent by whoever was actually behind the conspiracy, and if they grabbed this peon now, he might tell them nothing, and all would be lost.
He smiled.
Maybe Marcus was a genius after all.
The man slowly turned in his saddle, searching the shadows, searching for his contact.
How long will he wait?
The man flicked his reins, sending his horse back in the direction he had come.
Not long, I guess.
Suddenly a horse whinnied and Marcus burst from the alleyway. “Halt!” The man glanced over his shoulder then urged his horse forward, breaking out into a gallop as Marcus gave chase. Simon cursed and rushed for his horse, tied up farther down the alleyway lest it make a noise that might tip off the man they had been waiting for. By the time he reached it and returned to the street, Marcus and their target were gone.
“What just happened?”
Simon turned to see David and Jeremy racing toward him on foot, their bows gripped uselessly in their hands. He shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s on his own now.”
Marcus raced after his target, urging his steed forward, and smiled as the man guided his horse to the right, exactly as he had suspected. His instructions to his men had been clear, and they had been followed.
Do nothing, unless lives are at risk.
And none were.
David and Jeremy both could have loosed an arrow to bring the man down once he had given chase, but no one’s life had been in danger, and they had followed their orders.
Reluctantly, he had no doubt.
He spotted the river ahead and eased off the reins slightly, his horse a little faster than that ahead of him. He grinned as the rider crossed the bridge and it immediately began to rise.
Precisely as it had their first night in Paris.
Thomas’ heart leaped as he spotted the bridge start to rise. He grabbed his horse and climbed on, watching the rider who had just crossed, race past his position. Thomas counted to three then followed, keeping his distance, the rider checking over his shoulder several times, Thomas riding high in the saddle, trying to give the man no reason to think anything untoward was happening.
The man soon eased off, apparently confident he had shaken his pursuer, and Thomas followed at a reasonable though not brisk pace. It didn’t take long for the rider to reach his destination, a large estate along the River Seine, the gates swinging open for him, then closing the moment he cleared them.
Thomas stared up at the yellow and black flag flapping in the wind, unsure of what it represented, but pleased he had accomplished the task set out for him by Sir Marcus.
Now all he had to do was wait.
Marcus returned to find his sergeant and squires atop their horses in the square where he had left them, all apparently still confused by his orders, if the expressions on their faces were any indication.
“I thought our orders were to do nothing?” asked Simon as he approached.
“Yes, your orders were.”
“Uh huh. And just where did you go off to?”
Marcus smiled. “I was merely flushing quail.” He regarded his men. “Are you ready to find out who is behind this?”
Simon nodded. “Absolutely, especially if there is a fire involved. These bones are too accustomed to the desert.”
Marcus laughed, turning his horse back toward the bridge. “Come, let us meet young Thomas, and see what he has found.”
Jeremy rode up on his left. “Thomas? Where has he been this entire time?”
“Exactly where he needed to be.”
“Which was?”
“The opposite side of the bridge.”
Simon stared at him. “What bridge?” His eyes widened. “Wait, you mean the same bridge from two nights ago? The drawbridge?”
Marcus grinned. “Now you’re catching on.”
“What makes you think he’d go there?”
Marcus pointed ahead, the bridge visible in the distance. “Why not? It’s an arrangement he’s had with the gatekeeper for some time, it’s effective, and if he is who I think he is, he would have little choice but to go there.”
Simon snorted. “You are mighty confident tonight, aren’t you?”
Marcus grunted. “Let us pray that this confidence isn’t unwarranted.” He flicked his reins, hurrying back toward the bridge, praying to the good Lord that he was right about everything, otherwise he might have just let their only suspect get away.
Thomas waited in the darkness for what felt like hours, but could only have been minutes, when he saw four riders approaching. He peered into the inky black and sighed with relief at the sight of Sir Marcus’ white surcoat, the red cross of the Templars emblazoned across it. He urged his horse toward them, Marcus smiling.
“So, my young friend, what have you found?”
Thomas pointed at the large estate just ahead. “He went in there, sir.” His eyes narrowed. “But how did you know he would? I mean, how did you know where I would be?”
Marcus smiled, pointing at the flag flying proudly at the gate. “See that flag?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what it represents?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“It is the flag of the Holy Roman Empire, signaling the German ambassador’s residence. I spotted it when we went to see Lord Victor, and tragically discovered him murdered, likely by somebody inside this very house right now.”
Simon stared at the estate. “What now?”
“Now we pray Sir Denys has been successful in his assignment, but David and Jeremy, I have another task for you.”