“Of course he has.” Michel sighed. “Well, mount your horse. It seems that you are unaware of the events that have transpired.”
“Philippe has asked us to meet him in Aliette,” Laurent responded.
“I have just come from there,” Michel said, smacking his cousin on the back. “The prisoners have escaped with the Marquis, and Philippe probably fights them now.”
“The Marquis?” Laurent asked.
Michel nodded. “I shall fill you in while we ride.” He hoisted himself onto his horse. “Let us be off. We must find them before blood is shed.” He paused. “Or at least our blood.”
The party continued up the path from which Laurent and Henri had just come. Michel urged them forward. He hoped to see this through before sunset.
Chapter Thirty-Six
She was tied to a tree. And gagged! Did they take her for a screamer? Ropes were stretched around her middle to just below her neck. Her arms were planted against her sides and no amount of wiggling gave her slack. To make matters worse, she could see her sword, tossed aside and forgotten but well out of her own reach. Her hands burned to reclaim its hilt, but she could do nothing more than watch as the men before her strategized. They wanted Philippe, and they thought she was the answer. It had been no accident that they were upon her once she was alone. The Marquis claimed he would have snatched her sooner to draw out Philippe had his wife’s event not gotten in his way. Once they had approached her that morning, they wasted no time knocking her off her horse, but Alex had made good on her promise and caused some pain before they took her down. She had nailed one with a punch to the jaw, kicked another hard in the stomach, and toppled a big one by binding his sword and knocking him off balance with a shoulder check. She even took a chunk out of another man’s arm with her sword, leaving a perfect spray of blood across the trees. That was all before she was overtaken, being pushed into the dirt, bound and gagged, and not spared from the cheap shots and extra roughness they took with her.
It was him all along, the Marquis, thatscoundrel. Nowonder they had such trouble pinning down their enemies. The man they sought was the very man for whom they were fighting. After they had captured her and secured her to the Marquis’ horse, she felt the hate boiling out of him—for the Duke, for the King. While they rode, he muttered about the Duke’s capped taxes and sales regulations. The Marquis had had a brilliant plan to bring money into the area, he bemoaned, but now, he would have to use Alex to capture Philippe and thus regain his advantage against the Duke. Hehatedhaving his plans disrupted.
They had traveled a few miles deeper into the woods to a makeshift camp of his men. Alex was now secured at the far end of a small clearing while the men toiled before her. She counted twenty six, including the Marquis and Giroux. Up ahead, the Marquis was preparing for a confrontation in the midst of the thick trees. He was at once commanding and assertive, but he was rushed and giving hasty orders: sharpen your sword, place a lookout, clear the brush, grease your blade. He believed Philippe would discover her absence, gather what was left of his men, and come after her. Alex alone knew she had strayed and Philippe would have no idea she had been taken.
What would happen to her when Philippe didn’t come? She did not want to think about what these men would do to her. At the hands of men with no control, no honor... she would fight and rip them apart as best she could, for as long as she could. She twisted in the ropes, embarrassed at her failure to escape. The fear was there, but it had been overtaken by her own fury at herself for not piecing this together sooner.
She had just been on the edge of so many wonderful things. Now she felt only remorse deep in her chest. In the end, she would perish, a silly little story of the woman who wielded a sword and finally got what was coming to her.
Up ahead, something was happening between Giroux and the Marquis. Giroux indicated towards her, but the Marquis met him with unyielding indifference.
“This is not the outcome that we discussed,” Giroux said loud enough for Alex to hear. “Our objective can be met without any further bloodshed. I have told you that I will stand trial.”
“You know nothing of politics,” said the Marquis, dismissing his plea.
“I have it on the authority ofMonsieurPhilippe that the village townswill be cared for,” Giroux said ardently. “Even in my imprisonment, he promised my people would be a priority. Why must we continue with this fight?”
“Imbécile!” the Marquis thundered. “I do not care about a monthly pittance for the villages. The river is the issue! I do this to control the river.”
“I never agreed to fight for you to control the river,” Giroux said, his own voice dark and passionate. “And I certainly did not agree to take hostages and kill innocents.” He looked back to Alex, who was watching keenly. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“You are wearing on my patience, Giroux. You served your purpose, commanding the village raids in my stead, but they are finished. I no longer need you.” The Marquis cut an imposing figure, even though Giroux towered above him. “Soon, I will own the river and hire a hundred men in your place.” He turned to the men at large. “Know this face!” he boomed. “This is the face of your lord and master.” He said it in French then repeated it in dialect. “When this day is done, I will have all the leverage I need to secede from the Duchy. If you are with me now, you will be rewarded then.”
The men cheered and bellowed their enthusiasm—dirty men, dishonorable men, men hired to be loyal. The Marquis turned back to Giroux. “I’m sure many here wouldn’t mind doubling their salary to take out a traitor,” he said. “And then perhaps tripling it for burning your beloved villages to the ground.”
Giroux looked around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. One by one, the men drew their blades, showing allegiance to the Marquis. Alex jerked again at her ropes and eyed her sword, wanting just one more chance to fight.
That was when she saw a wink of movement in the forest, off to her left. It was just a slight rustle of leaves, but no animal would dare come so close to the noises of these men. Alex watched carefully, so as not to draw notice, but the rebels before her were locked in a standoff. Then she saw it. Philippe’s angry face glaring at her from behind the leaves. She thought she must have been imagining it, but he looked so mad at her that hehadto have been real. She almost laughed in relief; her joy at seeing him was palpable. Philippe nodded in the Marquis’ direction as he brought his finger up to his lips, reminding her they were far from being out of danger.
Before her, rebel swords were still drawn, but Giroux had taken his hand off his blade. “I am your servant,” he said with a bow of his head.
The Marquis put his hand on Giroux’s shoulder. “Do not forget it,” he said. And as quick as that, the upheaval was over.
Philippe, meanwhile, disappeared from her view as the tension in the camp broke. She hoped he wasn’t alone, but she couldn’t make out any other signs of life. Then, suddenly, he was right behind her, his presence thicker than the trees.
“I’m alone,” he whispered, answering the question she couldn’t ask.
Alex made no sound but felt her fingers wiggling in excitement that he was there.
“Calm down,” he laughed and touched her hand. “We’ll try to sneak back to my horse, but you may need to fight if we can’t get you out before they notice.”
Finally, she thought, she was itching to teach someone a lesson.
The tree was large enough that good placement allowed Philippe to go undetected as he cut through her bindings. He worked swiftly but delicately, so that she could feel the vibrations as he cut without hearing the sound of the fibers splitting. Thankfully, no one had paid much attention to her once they’d secured her to the tree. She hoped their ignorance would last just a little longer.
