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  The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret

  A Templar Detective Thriller

  by

  J. Robert Kennedy

  From the Back Cover

  HAS ONE TEMPLAR’S LOYALTY FALTERED, OR IS SOMETHING MORE SINISTER AT PLAY?

  When Templar Knight Sir Marcus de Rancourt’s sergeant and best friend, Simon Chastain, expresses doubts about the new life they have undertaken, Marcus urges him to seek out the family he hasn’t seen in over thirty years, then choose his own path to follow.

  But when his trusted sergeant doesn’t return, Marcus knows something must be wrong, for he refuses to believe decades of loyalty and service would be abandoned without any word.

  From USA Today and million copy bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy comes The Templar Detective and the Sergeant’s Secret, a pulse-pounding tale of historical intrigue, packed with mystery, suspense, and humor, perfect for fans of edge-of-your-seat thrillers.

  Get your copy of The Templar Detective and the Sergeant’s Secret today, and discover whether a forgotten childhood tragedy ends one man’s life of honorable service to his Lord and the Knights Templar.

  About J. Robert Kennedy

  With over one million books sold, award winning and USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is a full-time writer and the author of over forty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers. He’s married, has an adult daughter, and is likely hard at work on his next book.

  What readers are saying about J. Robert Kennedy:

  “Kennedy rules the genre!”

  “A master storyteller.”

  “Kennedy kicks ass in this genre.”

  “A writer who tells what we are thinking but sometimes afraid to say.”

  “If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J. Robert Kennedy.”

  “One of the best writers today.”

  “Cussler move over. Kennedy is here to stay.”

  “I'm hooked on Paterson, Connelly, Child, Flynn and this book got me hooked on this writer."

  “J. Robert Kennedy is one of my favorite authors. His books are easy to read and I feel like the characters are family.”

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  Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.

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  Books by J. Robert Kennedy

  The Templar Detective Thrillers

  The Templar Detective

  The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress

  The Templar Detective and the Sergeant's Secret

  The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist

  The James Acton Thrillers

  The Protocol

  Brass Monkey

  Broken Dove

  The Templar’s Relic

  Flags of Sin

  The Arab Fall

  The Circle of Eight

  The Venice Code

  Pompeii’s Ghosts

  Amazon Burning

  The Riddle

  Blood Relics

  Sins of the Titanic

  Saint Peter’s Soldiers

  The Thirteenth Legion

  Raging Sun

  Wages of Sin

  Wrath of the Gods

  The Templar’s Revenge

  The Nazi’s Engineer

  Atlantis Lost

  The Cylon Curse

  The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

  Rogue Operator

  Containment Failure

  Cold Warriors

  Death to America

  Black Widow

  The Agenda

  Retribution

  The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers

  Payback

  Infidels

  The Lazarus Moment

  Kill Chain

  Forgotten

  The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries

  Depraved Difference

  Tick Tock

  The Redeemer

  Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series

  The Turned

  Table of Contents

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  Table of Contents

  Beginning

  Author's Note

  Preface

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  Acknowledgments

  Sample of Next Book

  Don't Miss Out!

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  For Lieutenant Colonel Arnaud Beltrame, who paid the ultimate price by exchanging himself for civilian hostages in Trèbes, France, proving selfless sacrifice still exists today.

  “Master, go on; and I will follow thee to the last gasp, with truth and loyalty.”

  As You Like It, Act II, Scene 3

  William Shakespeare

  “Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable, than loyalty.”

  Cicero

  Author's Note

  This is the third novel in this series, and for those who have read the others and embraced these characters as so many of you have, please feel free to skip this note, as you will have already read it.

  The word “detective” is believed to have originated in the mid-nineteenth century, however, that doesn’t mean the concept of someone who investigated crime originated less than two hundred years ago. Crime long pre-dated this era, and those who investigated it as well.

  The following historical thriller is intended to be an entertaining read for all, with the concept of a “Templar Detective” a fun play on a modern term. The dialog is intentionally written in such a way that today’s audiences can relate, as opposed to how people might have spoken during the Middle Ages. This does not mean they will be speaking to each other as rappers and gangsters, but will instead communicate in ways that imply comfort and familiarity, as we would today. If you are expecting, “Thou dost hath offended me, my good sir,” then prepareth thyself for disappointment. If, however, you are looking for a fast-paced adventure, with plenty of action, mystery, and humor, then you’ve come to the right place.

  Enjoy.

  Preface

  In medieval France, the King used agents known as bailli, or bailiffs, to administer much of his realm, and as a result, these men wielded much power over the subjects they were responsible for, including collecting taxes, calling men to service, and administering the laws of the land.

  These men were appointed by the King, were paid by the crown, and their entire livelihoods were dependent upon their continued employment.

  Even more dependent we
re those they hired to assist them, known as Bailiff’s Delegates, who wielded similar powers, though on a much smaller geographic scale.

  And should this power be wielded in such a way that the population they were responsible for were to take offense, the livelihood of the Bailiff’s Delegate could be threatened.

  Unless, of course, fear ruled the hearts of those who would have cause to complain.

  1

  Kingdom of France

  1297 AD

  Simon Chastain roared in agony as his entire body jerked off the table, his arms and legs stretched to their limits by ropes attached to ratchets that left his naked body racked with pain as his torturer cranked the wheel yet another turn.

  It was unlike anything he could have imagined, even at the hands of the Saracens.

  But these weren’t Saracens.

  These were fellow Frenchmen.

  And they weren’t his brothers.

  He was a Templar sergeant, and had fought in the Holy Land for the better part of two decades, but recent events had changed all that. With the death of his master’s sister, he and two trusted squires had followed Sir Marcus de Rancourt back to his childhood home, and a decision had been made.

  To stay and raise the orphaned children.

  It had been a decision he initially supported, then doubt had set in.

  Doubt that had led him here, in some unknown prison, tortured daily, for weeks on end. The pain he could endure, as it would end eventually, though for now, they were keeping him alive for some reason.

  It was the solitude between these torturous sessions that would be the death of him.

  His faith had prepared him for what was eventually to come, and he didn’t fear it. In fact, he would welcome it after these past weeks, and if it weren’t for his master and friend, he would have given up long ago.

  But he couldn’t let go.

  Not yet.

  For he had to somehow survive, so his master, his friend, Sir Marcus, would know he hadn’t betrayed him. He had to make certain his master knew he had done everything he could to return to his side, his decision made.

  He somehow had to get home, home to a farm only weeks ago he had cursed.

  A farm that held everything he loved in the world, and worse, everything that loved him.

  2

  De Rancourt Residence

  Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France

  One month earlier

  “It’s makeshift, but it will have to do.”

  Sir Marcus de Rancourt let his eyes wander around the nearly finished barracks on the farm he now called home. With the death of his sister, several months ago he and his trusted men, Sergeant Simon Chastain, and squires David and Jeremy, had all agreed to remain, giving up the life of brotherhood in the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon—the Knights Templar.

  Though they hadn’t truly given it up. They had been granted special dispensation to remain members of the Order, and remain on the farm. It was a difficult life, but life as a Templar was also difficult, though in different ways, in ways they all knew and loved.

  Farm life was different, and he wasn’t yet convinced he could ever love it.

  Tanya, the farm’s mastiff, charged into the barracks, barking happily, as the children he was now responsible for, chased her, giggling and laughing, as happy as he had ever seen them. Jacques and Angeline, his late sister’s children, were in the lead, their cheeks red, their hair filled with snowflakes, and Pierre, an orphan they had taken in after his parents’ murder, followed, gasping for breath, though clearly content.

  They disappeared in short order.

  “We need a door.”

  The others chuckled at Simon’s observation as they all sat around the stone fireplace that, try as it might, could only take some of the chill out of the winter air, the structure still far too drafty.

  Marcus regarded his friend. “Tomorrow we’ll put one on. The extension to the house is finished, and Lady Joanne is now settled with her chambermaid. We can now return our attention to our own accommodations.”

  David, the eldest of the two squires, eyed him. “Did you say ‘our?’”

  Marcus smiled. “Yes, I did. Now that we have two women living with us, the children don’t need me in the house, and I fear what the townsfolk might think should I be staying under the same roof as them.”

  Simon grunted. “They wouldn’t dare say anything, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Marcus laughed, slapping his friend on the back. “My honor is always secure with you around.” He stared through the open door and down at the house left him by his sister and brother-in-law, Henri. Henri was the connection he had with Lady Joanne de Rohan, a woman who had lost everything after accusations of adultery just weeks ago. Forced from her home, he had offered her a place to stay, an offer she had happily accepted.

  He had to admit it was a relief.

  Though he was anything but comfortable around women, he was even less so around children.

  He knew nothing about either.

  But Lady Joanne had taken to the children immediately, as had her trusted chambermaid, Beatrice, and their presence had mercifully reduced the attentions of the young Isabelle Leblanc, a friend of his late sister’s who had taken care of the children along with her mother, while they awaited his return from the Holy Land.

  And Isabelle was a constant source of delight for his men, who teased him mercilessly about her apparent desire to take him for a husband.

  She was a beautiful woman, even he wasn’t blind to that, but he was a warrior monk, sworn to poverty and celibacy, and as he remained a Templar, he was still bound by those vows.

  Lady Joanne’s voice called out, announcing dinner, and the children bolted toward the house.

  Somebody screamed.

  They all leaped to their feet, rushing out the door, to see Pierre tumbling down the slope, then rolling to his knees, laughing as he brushed the snow off himself, Jacques standing with his fists on his hips, apparently having pushed him.

  “What did I tell you about that?” cried Joanne, wagging a finger. “Someone is going to get hurt one of these days if you’re not careful!”

  “Or killed.”

  Marcus glanced at Simon and frowned, his friend’s face clouded over, his eyes glistening, his gaze unfocused, as if he were staring back at some distant memory. “Are you okay?”

  Simon sighed then nodded. “Just remembering something.”

  “What?”

  Simon shook his head. “Nothing I care to talk about.” He stabbed a finger toward the children. “They just don’t listen. How many times has she told Jacques to stop shoving Pierre?”

  David stared after the children as they raced inside the house. “I think he’s jealous. He’s just trying to establish his dominance over Pierre, so that he knows his place.” David shoved Jeremy, tripping him with a strategically placed foot. “Like Jeremy knows I’m his better.”

  Jeremy stared up at him. “I hear there’s a witch in the woods. Maybe I’ll seek her out in the morning and make sure she puts a curse on you.”

  David glanced around, his hands palms up, and shrugged. “What more can she do to me?”

  Marcus frowned, David noticing, his jaw dropping with the realization of what he had said.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean it like that, I was just joking around.”

  Marcus nodded, but knew his squire was telling him only half the truth. None of them were truly happy. This was not the life they were used to. They were all Templars of varying ranks, all devoted to the brotherhood, and now, thanks to his decision, and their undying loyalty to him, he had condemned them all to a life toiling on a farm, raising children, and protecting the growing brood that now called the humble property home.

  David’s head dropped. “I’ll go get us our dinner.” Jeremy scrambled after him, clearly not wanting to stick around for whatever might be said next. Marcus turned back toward the barracks and glanced over
his shoulder at Simon, following a few paces behind.

  “And what do you think?”

  Simon’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Of what?”

  “Of this new life.”

  “I’ve told you that my place is at your side.”

  “And if it weren’t?”

  Simon looked away, as if ashamed of what he might say.

  “Out with it, my friend. If I can’t trust you to tell me the truth, then whom can I?”

  Simon sighed as they stepped through the open doorway. “I can’t say that I’d choose this life.”

  “What would you choose?”

  Simon sat on the edge of his bed, the private rooms Marcus had promised them all, yet to be completed, and until each had their own room, they had all agreed to continue to share. “I can feel it in my bones that I’m no longer the warrior I once was. The journey back to the Holy Land would be long and arduous, and I’d be just that much older by the time I got back there.”

  “So you would stay in France?”

  Simon nodded. “Now that I’m here, yes. If we had never left, I’d have been content to die on the sands our Lord once roamed.”

  Marcus shivered against the cold. “I never thought I’d miss the heat, but days like today make me yearn for the desert sun.”

  Simon grunted. “This will be my first winter in France since I was a boy.”

  “You grew up not far from here, didn’t you?”

  Simon stared out the door. “A few days’ ride. On the other side of Paris.”

  “Is your family still there?”

  Simon shrugged. “No idea.”