The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist Page 5

  Joanne reached up and squeezed his arm. “You be safe, and bring that sweet girl home.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  David urged his horse forward, and within moments the three of them were at a full gallop and off the property. They charged through the center of the village, a large fire in the middle of the road being pulled apart by some of the villagers, clearly some sort of event having occurred here recently.

  If only Lady Joanne had sent one of us to hear this priest!

  They charged past, some of the villagers stopping to stare, and he resisted the urge to chastise them for what they had all allowed to happen. The full moon and clear sky lit the way nicely, allowing them to keep a good pace, and within minutes, he spotted a group on horseback. He squinted in the dim light then cursed at the sight of a prisoner transport ahead.

  “Halt!” he shouted, charging past the men on horseback then blocking their path, Jeremy and Garnier on either side of him. “I demand you release our friend, Isabelle Leblanc.”

  A man driving the wagon leaned forward, lit by two torches, one on either side of him, mounted to the wagon. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  David grabbed his bow and had it fitted with an arrow almost instantly, Jeremy doing the same, Garnier merely trembling beside him. “I must insist.”

  The sound of a dozen swords being drawn had sweat trickling down David’s back as the monks revealed themselves to be unlike any he had encountered.

  “You are outnumbered, my friend.”

  David lowered his bow. Slightly. “What kind of monks carry weapons?”

  “The kind that deal with demons, and those that would follow them.”

  “Demons? What are you talking about?”

  “Your friend Isabelle, who your friend here suggested might be possessed, is indeed so. I intend to save her.”

  Garnier, to his credit, urged his horse forward slightly. “I-I made a mistake. I’m sorry, but I was hurt by something she had said earlier today. I didn’t mean to get anyone hurt. I take back everything I said.”

  The priest leaned forward. “She hurt you?”

  Garnier stared at the man, tears in his eyes. “Yes. But only with words. It was nothing.”

  “Don’t you see that this is the work of the Devil? You like her, you adore her, yet she spurns you. And though she makes her lack of interest clear, her beauty continues to draw you in, and even now, after she has cut you with her words as deeply as a blade might stab you in the heart, you defend her. Don’t you see the grip she has on you? Don’t you see the grip the demon that possesses her has on your soul as well?” The priest shook his head. “No, your Isabelle has been lost to you. I will save her, and I promise you, she will be returned to you shortly, the Isabelle you once knew and loved. And perhaps then, she might be willing to give you her heart, for you will have been the one to save her through your courage in naming her.”

  Garnier stared at David helplessly. It was obvious the boy was having doubts, which was understandable. The priest was saying everything the young man wanted to hear. David examined the monks, assessing their level of experience by the way they held their swords, and he wasn’t certain. He doubted they had the skills of a true warrior, yet they were a dozen strong. There was little hope of defeating them.

  “Where are you taking her?” he asked.

  “My church.”

  “And where is that?”

  “I can’t say. If its location fell into the wrong hands, then all could be lost.” The priest leaned forward, his expression softening. “I can tell you all care deeply for this woman, and I appreciate that. If you love her, then you must let me save her. I swear to God that I mean her no harm. She will be cleansed of the evil that possesses her, and when the ritual is complete, she will be returned to you by my faithful servants. I swear to you that this is true.”

  David frowned, exchanging a glance with Jeremy, who seemed ready to take them all on, despite the odds. David shook his head slightly, and Jeremy growled in frustration.

  “Now, please, my sons, move aside so I can continue my work. The sooner my travels are over, the sooner I can save your friend.”

  They had no choice. Continuing to challenge these men might result in a fight they couldn’t win, and could result in the death of Isabelle. It was something they couldn’t risk.

  “Very well, Father.” David gestured for the others to follow his lead as he guided his horse to the side of the road.

  “Thank you, my sons. You will see your friend again soon.”

  The procession continued, the monks sheathing their swords, and as the wagon passed them, David’s heart broke as he spotted their friend, her pleas for help tearing at his soul.

  “I can’t believe you’re letting them go!”

  David turned to Jeremy, blocking him with his arm. “We had no choice. They were over a dozen, and we are but three.”

  “But we have to do something.”

  “We will. I want you to follow them while I let Sir Marcus know what has happened.” David grabbed Jeremy by the arm before he could take off after their friend. “And whatever you do, don’t be seen. It could mean Isabelle’s death. And yours.”

  8

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  “Was your meeting as boring as my waiting for you was?”

  Sir Marcus glanced at his sergeant. “You were bored?”

  Simon grunted. “Oh, no, not at all. Sitting in a room waiting for you for hours was simply thrilling.”

  “You could have filled your time with prayer.”

  Simon frowned. “Even I can only do that for so long.” He sighed. “I find it hard to do alone. In the Holy Land, I always had our brothers to pray with. It felt more meaningful, like I was part of a community.”

  “You still are, just a different one.”

  Simon eyed him for a moment. “Yes, I realize that. And you know I enjoy praying with you and the squires, but you weren’t in the room now, were you?”

  Marcus continued to have a little fun at his sergeant’s expense. “The Lord was with you.”

  Simon shook his head. “Now I know you’re being an ass.”

  Marcus tossed his head back, laughing. “You are so easy to annoy, my friend.” He punched him gently on the shoulder. “I’ll tell you what. Next time, you stay at the farm, and I’ll do this monthly visit by myself.”

  Simon shook his head. “And give up an opportunity to get away from the smell of shit and squires? Absolutely not. I’ll come, though next time leave me outside where I can at least watch the common people and remind myself why I hate this city.”

  Marcus looked about him at the simple people going about their business, few out now that the sun had set. “It’s not that bad a place. These are good people in their own way. Not everyone can be as pious as those in the Order.”

  Simon pointed to an alleyway where some unsavory business between a man and a woman was underway. “This city is filled to the brim with depravity. How much good have we actually seen in all our visits? I dare say almost none.”

  “The Holy Land wasn’t much better, my friend. We were simply shielded from much of it because of who we were, and how we lived.”

  Simon grunted. “The world would be a better place without all these sinners.”

  Marcus frowned. “I fear if we were to rid the world of all sinners, there’d be few people left.”

  Simon was about to respond when he stopped, pointing ahead. “Fire.”

  Marcus urged his horse forward, Simon directly behind him, and within moments they had the building in sight. And Marcus’ heart sank. It was their destination, the home of their friend Thomas Durant, the current suitor to Isabelle Leblanc. He spotted Thomas on the roof, desperately throwing snow on the flames, the thatched roof proving to be kindling.

  Marcus charged forward and stood on his saddle, leaping into the air and grabbing onto the edge of the roof. He swung his legs up then rolled onto the building, rushing over to Thomas’ side.

  “Sir Marcus! What are you doing here?”

  “Never mind that. Tear it out and throw it over the edge.” He grabbed a bundle of the flaming straw and tore it free, tossing it over the edge. “Simon, make sure this doesn’t spread!”

  “Yes, sir!” came his friend’s voice from below.

  Thomas changed his tactics, and together with Marcus, they had torn out the affected area within about ten minutes of exhausting effort. Thomas flopped onto his back, Marcus doing the same, both their chests heaving.

  “What happened?” asked Marcus as he caught his breath.

  “Someone is jealous of my success, I guess.”

  Marcus sat up. “But it’s been months. Why now?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “Well, maybe I know. It was old man Caron, I’m sure. His granddaughter disappeared, and he thinks I can help find her. When I told him I couldn’t, he got angry. He knows I work for Mrs. Thibault, and he’s convinced she has something to do with her disappearance.”

  Marcus frowned at the mention of the vile woman’s name, Simone Thibault having taken over her husband’s business when he died, now a parasite that dealt in all things nefarious, not the least of which was lending money to desperate people at exorbitant rates of interest. “Does she?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve learned not to ask such questions.”

  “Where does this old man live?”

  “Just down the street. The house with a red and white gable.”

  Marcus rose, holding out a hand for Thomas. “Perhaps it’s best if I had a word with him so this doesn’t happen again.”

  Thomas took the hand and Marcus pulled him to his feet. “That might be a good idea. I’m going to try and fix this roof. It looks l
ike snow tonight.”

  Marcus nodded. “I’ll be back shortly.” He swung down from the roof to find Simon stomping out the last of the straw they had tossed over the edge. “I have to pay those responsible a visit. Give him a hand, would you?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  “I think I can handle an old man by myself.”

  “He might have sons.”

  “If he does, I’ll send them over to help with the repairs you so obviously don’t want to be involved with.”

  Simon grinned. “You know me so well.”

  9

  Enclos du Temple, Templar Fortress

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  It had been a foolish ride, but there had been no time to waste. Crécy-la-Chapelle was several hours ride from Paris, less at a full gallop, though doing so in the dark in winter was imprudent. It was late, though still before midnight when he arrived, the short winter days throwing everything off.

  The days in the Holy Land never seemed so short.

  But it was still late, and the only man who might know where he could find Sir Marcus, who evidently wasn’t staying at the Templar barracks here, had already retired for the night.

  As he waited impatiently, his toe tapping rapidly, he found his thoughts turning to Jeremy, and prayed that the fool didn’t let his temper or impulsiveness get him into trouble.

  I should have been the one to follow them.

  But he was a better rider than Jeremy, and speed was of the essence. Sir Marcus would know what to do, and he had little doubt that the four of them together could best a dozen inexperienced monks in battle, especially if he and Jeremy thinned them out a little from a distance.

  A door opened at the far end of the grand hall he was waiting in, and he leaped to his feet as he recognized the regalia of the Templar Master for France, Sir Matthew Norris, the most senior member of the Order within the Kingdom.

  “Why have I been disturbed?”

  David bowed deeply. “I apologize, sir, it is my fault. I have an urgent message for Sir Marcus de Rancourt, and no one seems to know where he is.”

  The man’s anger ebbed slightly. “I met with Sir Marcus earlier today. He didn’t stay with us?”

  David shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir.”

  “He made mention of visiting a friend after our meeting. Perhaps he is there.”

  “Did he mention a name?”

  Sir Norris shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  David’s mind raced as he ran through the short list of whom Marcus might know in the city, and that would be willing to let him through their door without killing him. He smiled. “Thomas Durant. It must be him.”

  Norris’ eyes narrowed. “I know that name.” He held up a hand, cutting off David’s explanation. “Why the urgency?”

  “A friend has been kidnapped.”

  Norris frowned. “That’s most unfortunate. By whom?”

  “A priest who claims she has been possessed by a demon, and an exorcism must be performed.”

  “And is your friend possessed?”

  David’s jaw dropped. “Most definitely not!”

  “And you were unable to stop her abduction?”

  David shook his head. “No. He was accompanied by a dozen armed monks.”

  Norris’ eyebrows shot up. “Armed monks?”

  David nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “When you find your master, return here with him, no matter the hour. I may have news that can help.”

  “I will. Thank you, sir.”

  Norris dismissed him with a flick of the wrist before heading for the door whence he came. David remained bowing until it shut, then rushed outside to his horse, wondering what news Norris might have that would warrant waking him up yet again.

  But that was for Marcus to worry about.

  Please, Lord, let him be with Thomas.

  10

  Caron Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  “What business does a Templar Knight have in our humble home?”

  Marcus bowed at the old man who had remained seated upon his arrival. It was a wretchedly humble home, as most were in this area, and he knew from a previous visit to Thomas’, that he was making long-overdue repairs to his family home that could indeed make the neighbors jealous of his newfound success.

  This house appeared to be bursting at the seams with people, at least three families and as many generations apparently living under the one roof.

  “I’ve come to speak to you about what happened tonight to Master Thomas Durant’s home.”

  Caron spat on the floor at the mention of the name. “And what is he to you?”

  “A friend.” Marcus stepped slightly closer. “A good friend. And someone who has no quarrel with you.” He held up a finger, cutting off any response. “Tell me of your granddaughter.”

  One of the sons, lined up behind their father, stepped forward. “It’s my daughter, Yvette. She’s been missing several days. Nobody has seen her.”

  Marcus folded his arms. “I’m sorry for what has happened, and I understand why you are all upset, but burning Thomas’ house wasn’t necessary, and accomplished nothing.”

  The old man grunted. “It got you here, didn’t it?”

  Marcus’ eyebrows rose slightly. “And what could I possibly do about it?”

  The old man shrugged. “I don’t know, but you’re a Templar Knight. Surely you can do more than any of us could.”

  Marcus frowned. The man was right, though what he could possibly do, he had no idea. But he had to tell them something. “I’ll inform Command what has happened, and I know they’ll listen for any word on your granddaughter, but beyond that, there’s not much I can do.” He turned to the father. “What does she look like?”

  “A tiny little thing, long blond hair. Quite beautiful.”

  Marcus smiled at the man. “She sounds lovely. I hope you find her.”

  The wind howled outside, shaking the house.

  “Now, I must ask you a favor. Master Thomas’ roof is damaged badly, and a storm is approaching. I would like your sons to help us repair it before it is too late.”

  The grandfather rose, extending his hand. “If you promise to help us find my granddaughter, then you’ll have all the help you need.”

  Marcus shook the man’s hand. “I will do everything within my power.”

  “May the good Lord help guide you to our precious Yvette.”

  Marcus stepped out into the cold, the wind making its presence known, the sons following with their tools. And as they trudged toward Thomas’ home, Marcus was left to worry that even if he kept the promise he had just made, it would mean little.

  He feared Yvette might be lost to the depravity that was Paris.

  11

  Durant Residence

  Paris, Kingdom of France

  As David rounded the last bend leading to Thomas’ house, he pulled up short, his mouth agape. A crew of men was working on the roof, and there was evidence of a fire. He couldn’t make out who the men were, but it was obvious they were working furiously to beat the impending storm he was feeling in his bones.

  One of the workers cursed and David grinned, recognizing Simon’s voice. And if Simon was here, then Sir Marcus must be as well. He searched the darkness and spotted his master standing across the road, leaning against a hitching post, deep in thought.

  “Sir!”

  Marcus stood straight, striding rapidly toward him, concern on his face as David dismounted. “David, what are you doing here? Is everything all right at the farm?”

  David shook his head. “No, sir, it’s terrible. Isabelle has been taken by some priest. He claims that she’s possessed by a demon, and he intends to perform an exorcism on her.”

  “You let him take her?”

  “Oh, God, no! We didn’t know. That Garnier boy that’s sweet on her told us and we gave chase, but he was accompanied by a dozen monks, all armed. We challenged them, but they refused to give her up.”

  “Where is she now?”

  David sighed. “I don’t know, but Jeremy is following them at a distance. He’s to get word back to us when he can.”