The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist Page 3

  Isabelle stared up the hill toward the barracks, a wisp of smoke lazily rising into the still air, the four Templars that protected them inside, laughter rolling down the snow-covered fields.

  She sighed.

  Things would have been so much easier if Sir Marcus had fulfilled the desires of the little girl who had grown up to love him so deeply.

  But life never turns out the way one hopes.

  4

  De Rancourt Residence

  Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France

  “Is that young Garnier?”

  Templar Knight Sir Marcus de Rancourt glanced out the door of their barracks and down the hill, spotting only the back of whoever had been at the home. “Looks like it.”

  His sergeant, Simon Chastain, shook his head. “I’ve never seen him run so fast without tripping.”

  Jeremy, one of Marcus’ trusted squires, and a master with the bow, snorted. “That one’s so awkward, he wouldn’t have lasted a week in the Crusades.”

  David, Marcus’ other squire and the older of the two, stretched. “I’d have given him a day.”

  “I was trying to be generous.”

  “Generosity only gets people killed over there.”

  Marcus nodded. “I didn’t realize the ladies had guests, the way they were carrying on.”

  Simon grunted. “Women. I’ll never understand them.”

  David grinned. “Because they’ll never let you close enough.”

  Simon jabbed a finger at him. “We all are bound by the same vows, so don’t you be suggesting otherwise.”

  David flushed slightly at the admonishment. “You’re right, you’re right. Sometimes I forget we’re still part of the Order.”

  Marcus regarded the man for a moment. They were all still technically members of the Order, all still Templars, though their lives with their brothers were essentially over. Unless some calamity was to occur, to which they were dutybound to respond, the rest of their days would be spent mostly on this farm. It was a decision he had been forced to make, with only one honorable choice, but the others had stayed of their own free will. “You can disavow yourself of the Order if you want.”

  “I thought we already had this discussion?” David shook his head. “My place is at your side, and I do it willingly.”

  Marcus smiled slightly. “No, that’s not what I meant. You could leave the Order and stay here, at my side as you say, but be free to take a wife and start a family.”

  David scratched his chin. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Jeremy leaned back. “That’s because you’re an idiot.”

  David belted his friend’s shoulder, then leaned back as well. “I’m too old to start a family, aren’t I?”

  Marcus shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person.” He turned to Simon. “Sergeant?”

  Simon gave him a look. “Are you mad? I know less of these things than you!”

  They all laughed, the children suddenly appearing in the door. “What’s so funny?” asked Pierre Fabron, an orphaned boy they had taken in after his parents had been murdered.

  Marcus searched for an appropriate answer. “Ahh, nothing you’d understand.”

  “Nor apparently us,” muttered David.

  Jeremy pointed toward the stable. “So, have the horses been fed?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Pierre.

  “Good.” Jeremy stood, David following. “We’ll finish readying your horses.”

  Marcus nodded, and his two squires left to prepare the horses for his and Simon’s trip to Paris, a day’s ride to the west. He sighed.

  “What?”

  He glanced at his sergeant and friend of over twenty years. “They should leave the Order and take wives. It’s not too late for them.”

  Simon grunted. “But it is for us?”

  “Certainly for me.”

  Simon regarded him. “The way that young Isabelle was fawning over you for so long, I think you could have your pick.”

  “I have no idea why.”

  “I think it’s your chiseled good looks and fine piece of ass you keep hidden under that surcoat.”

  Marcus laughed, shaking his head. “I’m far too old for such a young thing, and besides, I’m too set in my ways. Look at me. This is now my farm, yet I live in the barracks with you.”

  “Only because Lady Joanne now occupies your bedchamber.” Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Now there’s an idea. She’s a widow. You two could get married.”

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “Right, a former member of the aristocracy marrying a former Templar Knight. If that’s not a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is.”

  Simon grunted. “True. I think we’ll have to resign ourselves to remaining in the Order, celibate, with only each other for company.”

  Marcus groaned. “Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound like much of a life.”

  Simon stared at him. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  “You have.”

  “Perhaps when we go to Paris for this meeting of yours, I should find myself a new master.”

  “You could try, though I think you’ll have a hard time finding one who’s willing to put up with your attitude.”

  “I’ve got a great attitude.”

  “You’re a crusty old bastard that takes a long time to get used to.”

  “You got used to me.”

  Marcus’ eyes narrowed. “My friend, it’s been twenty years and I’m just about there.” He pointed to the heavens. “I’m not sure God is willing to leave you down here long enough for anyone new to get used to you.”

  Simon shook his head. “You’re not the easiest to get along with either, you know.”

  Marcus grinned. “You will find me delightful, Sergeant, that’s an order.”

  Simon laughed. “Yes, m’Lord, you are definitely a delight.”

  Marcus’ stomach rumbled, Simon hearing it. “I think we should see what the ladies have prepared us for breakfast. I want to get on the road soon so we aren’t late arriving in Paris. This weather can be unpredictable.”

  “My bones tell me we’re due for a storm soon.”

  Marcus pushed to his feet with a groan. “Mine as well, old man.” They began for the house at the bottom of the gentle hill, the laughter of the women having stopped since Garnier had been spotted running away. It was unfortunate that he was sweet on Isabelle, as her heart was now taken by Thomas Durant, a young man Marcus intended to visit later that evening after his meeting at the Enclos du Temple, the Templar headquarters in the Kingdom of France.

  He opened the door with a smile, then frowned at what greeted him.

  Two unhappy women.

  And one very unhappy woman.

  “What happened?”

  And he immediately regretted asking the question.

  5

  Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France

  Garnier’s heart hammered in horror at the scene unfolding in front of him. He had suffered nightmares before, but not even his deepest darkest imaginings could rival what was happening now. A wagon with iron bars sat in the middle of their village, a dozen monks, all dressed in dark brown robes, encircled the terror, their hoods covering their features, leaving their faces blackened orbs as if part of the evil they now guarded his fellow villagers from. Each held a torch, the only light except for the large fire roaring in the middle of the road, all casting an eerie, flickering glow upon the priest that had arrived as the last hint of the winter sun set, leaving the small, simple village in a cloak of darkness.

  The timing of their arrival had been perfect, the priest calling for everyone to gather for an important message from the Church, and Garnier had been fetched from his home by a neighbor, arriving only minutes before as the creature now before them had been led from her cage, a growling, snarling, spitting, filthy thing, screaming vile profanities at those surrounding her.

  If ever there was a demon in their midst, it was today.

  “No! Don’t look a
way! Look at her in all her vileness,” said the priest, his voice calm but earnest. “Look at what Satan himself has done to this poor creature. Remember, the soul trapped within is innocent of anything her body does, anything her lips say. She is locked away inside, a prisoner in her own body. Remember, she is someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, and yes, could be someone’s mother. Pity her, but don’t fear her, not in this state. She has been captured, and with prayer, I intend to save her soul, as I intend to save all those possessed in our troubled land. Now, I ask of you, have you any like her among you?”

  Garnier shook his head slowly, as did the others of the village, then cried out in horror as the creature flipped over, her back arched, her hands and feet still flat on the ground as she walked as if turned inside out, something he had never seen anything, man or beast, ever do.

  He collapsed to a knee, reaching out to steady himself as others fainted around him in terror, some turning to vomit, prayer erupting from those who still remained in control of their faculties.

  “Good! Pray! Pray to our good Lord for salvation, for delivery from evil such as this! Pray for the soul of this poor woman, and keep her in your prayers, for only through the power of prayer will she be saved! Now, I ask you again, are there any like her among you?”

  Garnier pushed to his feet, wiping his forehead of the sweat that now beaded on it, and again shook his head.

  “Then you are fortunate, for this one is so far gone, she will be difficult to save. But hear this! Most are not so far gone as her. Even she wasn’t this far gone when I first captured her. But resigned to its fate, the demon inside her is now desperate, and knows it has been discovered. It no longer has any need to hide its true nature. Among you, among those of you gathered here tonight, there may yet be one of the possessed. Or perhaps they ignored my call, and are still in their homes, hiding from me, because they know that I alone possess the ability to see their true nature, to see through the masks they show their neighbors. What you see as a normal neighbor, the man or woman you have perhaps grown up with, beneath could be a beast like this. So again, I ask you, is there someone who is not here tonight, who ignored my call for a message from the Church, someone who may be a demon among you?”

  Garnier looked about in the darkness, the faces of the people he had grown up with his entire young life surrounding the spectacle, and frowned. Easily half the village wasn’t here. Almost none of the children were, and most of the women weren’t as well, probably at home with the children preparing dinner. It was the men who were here, who would carry back any message to their families, as would he. His family remained at home, even his father, sending Garnier to hear what the priest had to say, then share it when he came home.

  “Still, you can think of no one? Then let me share another secret Satan doesn’t want you to know. Did you know that beauty is the work of the Devil? Why would God ever create a woman so beautiful she would make a man do foolish things? Why would He create someone so breathtaking that men would fight over her, that jealousies would flare? No, God would never do such a thing, but Satan would.” The priest continued to circle the fire, leading the wretched creature, still twisted in an unnatural state that Garnier couldn’t bring himself to look at. “Is there anyone among you who is so beautiful, she has caused the men around her to do foolish things?”

  “Isabelle!”

  He slapped both of his hands over his mouth, shocked and sickened that he had blurted out her name. His eyes widened as everyone turned toward him, the priest rushing forward.

  “What was that you said?”

  Garnier was shaking now, trying to figure out why he had shouted out the name of the woman he had loved until only hours before, before she had destroyed all the love he had, all the plans for their future together, and any confidence he might have had.

  Her beauty was unparalleled in this small village, he had done foolish things to win her heart, and she had emasculated him with no regard for his feelings.

  It was the cold-heartedness of what had been said that made him realize that no good Christian could be living at that farm. And it had all changed when those Templars arrived.

  The priest shook him by the shoulder. “Young man, who did you name?”

  “I, umm…” He stared at the ground. “May I ask a question?”

  “Of course, my son, of course. What is your question?”

  “Could a demon have been brought back from the Holy Land, and then moved into the body of someone here?”

  The priest nodded vigorously. “Of course! There is much evil in the Holy Land. For one of Satan’s minions to come here to spread his terrible ways to our kingdom is definitely possible.” The priest stepped closer, his face only inches from Garnier’s. “Why? Do you think this has happened to someone you know?” He leaned even closer. “Someone you love?”

  Garnier sucked in a deep breath. “She’s changed. Since those Templars arrived, she hasn’t been the same. Maybe they returned from the Holy Land with some sort of evil.”

  “What is her name, my son?”

  “Isabelle. Isabelle Leblanc.”

  “And is she beautiful?”

  “Yes, absolutely!”

  “Uncommonly beautiful?”

  “I should say she’s the most beautiful girl in the village.”

  The priest spun toward the others, congregating around Garnier. “And would you agree, my good people? Would you agree that Isabelle Leblanc is beautiful?”

  Nods of assent were reluctantly given.

  “Uncommonly so?”

  The nods grew in confidence.

  He turned back to Garnier. “Is she married?”

  Garnier shook his head.

  “So, she is yet a virgin?”

  Garnier gulped, uncomfortable with the question. “I-I would expect so.”

  The priest smiled. “She is exactly what the Devil seeks. The purest of vessels that he can corrupt with beauty that could tempt any man.” He turned to the crowd. “And would you say she’s changed since these Templars arrived?”

  “I should say so!” shouted someone from the back. “She’s been making a fool of herself chasing that Templar Knight!”

  The priest smiled, then turned back to Garnier. “So, we have an uncommonly beautiful woman who has changed her behavior since a group of Templars have returned from the Holy Land.” He threw his hands in the air as he quickly stepped back toward the fire. “I say to you, my good people, that Isabelle Leblanc is the reason the good Lord brought me here this night. The good Lord told me I would find evil in this village, and He was right. Give me this girl, and I will save her soul, and return her to you, return the loving, caring girl you all once knew, cleansed of the evil brought back from the Holy Land by these Templars.”

  Garnier hesitated, his stomach churning as he doubted his own twisted thoughts of only moments ago, now that the demand for Isabelle to be brought forward had been made. “But how will you know? How will you know she is possessed?”

  The priest shook his chain, the creature at the other end growling then flipping upright. “The possessed know each other. Give her to me, and we will see how this one reacts to her.”

  “I’ll go get her!” shouted someone.

  “And I!”

  The priest waved a hand, halting the men already heading for Isabelle’s home. “No. These demons can be dangerous when confronted. My monks have been trained for these very situations.” He pointed at Garnier. “Show them where she lives, and my men will take care of the rest.”

  Garnier nodded reluctantly, and led them toward the small house near the edge of the village, a house he had visited hundreds, perhaps thousands of times in his life, his friendship with Isabelle stretching back to before he could remember.

  And now here, today, he had betrayed her, all because of the hurt he felt inside.

  His mouth filled with bile as he stretched out a hand, pointing toward the home where the love of his life lived. A love he had just forsaken, for he knew in
his heart she was innocent, and that everything she had said, though painful, was true.

  He was awkward.

  He was embarrassing.

  And he didn’t deserve to be loved.

  He collapsed to his knees, his shoulders racked with sobs as the monks pressed forward.

  Lord, what have I done?

  6

  Leblanc Residence

  Crécy-la-Chapelle, Kingdom of France

  “I feel just terrible.”

  Isabelle’s mother frowned at her. “As you should. It was horrible what you said. And those women should know better than to talk like that.” She wagged a finger. “I don’t think I want you spending any more time over there. I think they’re a bad influence, especially that Beatrice. She seems most uncouth.”

  Isabelle’s jaw dropped. “But, Mother, they’re my friends!”

  “They’re too old to be your friends.”

  “It’s not like there’s a lot of people my age here. At least not to talk to.”

  “That’s because they all have husbands to talk to. You wasted too much time spurning anyone who tried to court you for too long. If I had known why, that it was Nicoline filling your head with stories about her brother, and that you had gone and fallen in love with a man who would never have you, I would have slapped some sense into you long ago.”

  Isabelle sat in silence, her chin on her chest, her hands folded in her lap, as the tirade she had heard so many times before repeated itself. The sad thing was her mother was right. Almost every boy in the village had called on her, and she had turned them all away. Only poor Garnier hadn’t given up, but that was merely because he had no prospects.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Is there any point?”

  Her mother raised her hand and Isabelle recoiled. “You talk to your daughter. I’m not getting through.”

  Her father, sitting by the fire warming his feet, grunted. “Leave the poor girl alone. She has a suitor. One with means, apparently.”

  Her mother threw up her hands. “Don’t get me started on that Thomas character. Do you really want your daughter marrying a criminal?”