Templar Barracks
Paris, Kingdom of France
“Did you notice anything unusual about those who’ve been arrested?”
Marcus stared at Sir Raimond de Comps as he relaxed by the fire, pleasantly surprised to have found his old friend staying at the barracks, and still awake at this ungodly hour. “I must confess I couldn’t name one of them now, under threat of death. They meant nothing to me then, and even less now. Why?”
“This to me sounds like a political affair, not romantic. Think of what has happened. Four women, including your cousin, who we now know is innocent, stand accused of adultery, a heinous crime that not only demands a serious punishment for the parties involved, but also brings shame to the innocent husband, and with shame comes a weakening of status.”
Marcus nodded. “Yes, this is true, but how can we know whether or not that is indeed what is happening here? These women are accused. I’m sure there is proof, and it will come out tomorrow.”
Raimond smiled. “You are truly unfamiliar with how the process works, aren’t you?”
Marcus chuckled. “I am out of my depth in these matters, yes. Please, my old friend, enlighten me.”
Raimond leaned forward. “I can assure you, that only in the most dire of circumstances, would arrest warrants be issued at such an hour. And never for something as trivial as the dalliances of a few women.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that this is political. Someone is making a move, and forcing the situation along at as quick a pace as they can, so that the damage will be done, and it will be irreparable, even if there are innocents like your cousin.” He leaned even closer. “If I were a betting man—”
“Which of course you are not.”
“—I’d be asking myself who has what to gain with these arrests, and in your case, in framing your cousin.”
“Perhaps they’re all innocent.”
“Perhaps, though I’d be surprised someone would go to the risk of swearing out warrants for four women, without solid evidence of their crimes.”
“Yet my cousin is absolutely innocent.”
“Exactly. Someone wanted her caught up in this scandal, obviously to compromise her husband.”
Marcus squeezed the bridge of his nose, his eyes drooping, it having been a long day. “I must clear my cousin’s good name. The others aren’t my concern.”
Raimond wagged a finger at him, leaning back in his chair. “Your concern should be the truth. Pursue it to its end. If other innocents are caught up in this, then it is your duty as a Templar to uncover the truth, and ensure justice prevails.”
Marcus yawned. “And here I thought the life of a farmer in France would be a quiet one.”
Raimond smiled. “Clearly you were mistaken.”
The door opened and Marcus glanced over to see a messenger standing there. “I’m looking for Sir Marcus de Rancourt.”
Marcus waved his hand. “I am he.”
The young man bowed. “An urgent message for you from Lord Charles de Rohan.” He handed the folded paper over and Marcus opened it, his eyes widening at the revelation that indeed the King’s Personal Guard had come to the residence, and the staff had told them about Crécy-la-Chapelle.
“Tell your master that I have received the message, and will take action to protect his wife.”
“Yes, sir.”
The messenger departed and Marcus rose.
“What is it?” asked Raimond, also standing.
“Trouble.”