“There was a lot of preparation to be sure no one was injured.”
“At that you failed,” Philippe said, watching Giroux. “Someone gave orders to attack that house with the boy. But they were not your orders, were they?”
Giroux stood uncomfortably for a moment. “I don’t know exactly what you are questioning,Monsieur.”
“An army can be built only on loyalty,” Philippe said. “Or it is doomed.”
Giroux stood mutely, clenching his jaw against Philippe’s words.
Philippe watched the man for a long while. Alex could tell he was working something out in his mind after the strange series of questions. Finally, Philippe spoke, slipping into a stately, formal tone fitfor a Duke’s son. “On behalf of the Duke, we were not aware of the suffering on the banks of the river.” He rested his hands on his knees in a sign of deference. “I assure you, they will be cared for.”
“I thank you,” Giroux nodded.
“But I can promise,” Philippe continued, leaning back once more, “there will be no money or aid until someone stands for these crimes.”
“That is understandable. Though I beg you,Monsieur, my countrymen are innocent.”
“We shall find a reasonable outcome,” Philippe continued. “The Duke is a fair man.”
“Then with your permission,” Giroux nodded to Philippe and then indicated to the two men beside him, “We shall take our leave. I will deliver this news. And you have my word,MonsieurPhilippe. I will do whatever I can to ensure the peacefulness of your proposition.” Then he shifted uncomfortably, “though I don’t expect my leader will accept these parameters.”
“If he sponsored these attacks in the name of his people, there should be no question that my offer is fair,” Philippe said. “If he did this for himself, then it will clearly be unacceptable. Perhaps we shall both see who your leader really is.”
The men rose then. Philippe shook Giroux’s hand. Luc handed back their swords. Philippe directed Maurice and Auguste to go along with Giroux, to accompany his party back towards their camp to wait for communication. Then Philippe dusted his pants and returned to sitting, where he resumed his whittling. And like that, Alex realized the meeting was over. She was surprised that Giroux had been so humble. She was expecting a far more unstable bunch, but luckily, they didn’t seem interested in causing problems.
As he turned to leave, Giroux hesitated. He slipped into that nearly forgotten dialect from the North they had heard in theSable Noirand tried it on Philippe. “The girl,” he said.
Alex’s ears perked up, though she didn’t lead on that she understood.
“What about her?” Philippe asked coldly, using the same dialect. She was surprised Philippe spoke it, but guessed most of the other men didn’t. Giroux had been right in assuming a duke’s son would be privy to the languages of his people.
“Before I go,” Giroux began, “I must ask, why bring this woman with you?”
“She is our guide,” he responded, not looking up.
“That is strange,” he replied. When Philippe didn’t respond, he continued, “If you wish to send a message of goodwill, I think my master should very much like a guide, as such.”
Philippe’s movements ceased. “She’s not going anywhere,” Philippe said with an eerie calm.
“It would be a very amicable gesture,” Giroux pressed as his eyes flicked over to Alex.
“You have my answer,” Philippe responded, his voice icy. The only other sound was that of his knife slicing persistently against the wood in his hand.
Alex felt like an idiot for drinking. Her heart thumped wildly while her thoughts and reasoning came hazily. Staying sharp was her survival, because she knew men, even otherwise decent ones, could flip at any moment. She knew Philippe wouldn’t give her up without a fight, but Giroux was right. It would be a far better gesture on Philippe’s part to send her away than to hurt the man with whom he negotiated. An immoral woman like her, after all, had very little value, and she knew she was more than expendable at this point in the mission. She leaned back, using the rock behind her to steady her body in case she had to jump into a fight. She just hoped her drink-riddled brain remembered how to use her blade…
Giroux gave a small nod with his head. “Unfortunately,” he said, “My captain has heard of her already. He has asked that you send her as a token.” Giroux shifted his weight. “To show that you are committed to moving forward without the need for more fighting.”
Philippe was silent. He did not look up. The men around him started exchanging glances, as they began to realize the conversation between Philipp and Giroux had taken a turn. Alex noticed the men—her crew—were making their own subtle movements towards their weapons. Bernand pulled a dagger from his coat. Claude gripped his bow and positioned himself to ready an arrow.
Giroux was hesitant, seeming to notice the change in the men, but he continued. “I can tell you,Monsieur, he will not let up on the attacks if he does not have this assurance.” He stepped forward, his hands held out in a beseeching gesture.
It was a long and resonant pause that followed in the hollow of the cave. Alex’s senses had perked up against the wall of silence, and she breathed in the smoke from the fire, mixed with the sour smell of the filthy men who had threatened her. The two brutes puffed themselves out huskily, hands ready to fight with or without weapons. Giroux stood unflinching in front of Philippe, while Philippe’s men galvanized behind him. Maurice stood up and cracked his knuckles. Luc took a heavy drink, stood up, and tossed the flask to the ground with a thud. Daniel drew his sword and snarled while the rest followed suit. Alex swung her head back and forth, watching the brawl unfold before her, trying to decide if she could help, but she caught the eye of Laurant. He mouthed to her,Don’t move.
It was Philippe alone who did not seem agitated. He continued to play his blade against the wood, while everyone else stood rigidly around him. He was letting them fester, and the longer he ignored Giroux, the less significant his proposition became. It was an amazing feat, she was watching: this silent battle. And Philippe, dangerously assertive in his refusal to speak, promised to be more of a threat silent than with his sword to Giroux’s throat. Giroux, suspended in his question, was unable to take it back or leave it behind, so he stood there, resolved to wait for an answer.
She thought the standoff may never end.
The fire broke the tension for them. It popped and sputtered like it had been doing all night, but this time a single spark spun into the air, much like the one that had burned Alex earlier. It floated down and landed on the back of Philippe’s hand. Instead of striking the ember away, Philippe released the knife from his other hand, licked his thumb, and pressed the glowing spark into his flesh. It died with an audible hiss.
