Michel led the group hurriedly through the forest. He tracked the signs along the trail with ease and brought the men nearer to the culprits. He controlled a respectable group of twelve men, but he was unsure of what they would meet up ahead. They had already come through the first clearing where there had been a struggle, but now the sounds of fighting were guiding them down the path to their destination. The clang of swords rang out above the forest and Michel was calmed by the fact that he wouldn’t be hearing the sounds of battle if his brother had already been felled.
When he finally had a visual, it looked like Philippe was in the middle of fighting off a small army with… yep, that was Alex. He hadn’t seen her in years, but she was doing well. The two were sorely outnumbered, but they were still standing. Michel signaled to the men to surround the camp. Luckily the Marquis and his men were engaged, so they had not much trouble moving into position, but it was still surprising no one was out there watching…
That’s when Michel made eye contact with a lookout up in the trees.
“Reinforcements!” the scraggly youth called.
Michel sighed and hollered, “Attack!”
The Chevalerie soldiers rushed the surprised lines. They were stilloutnumbered, but upon a quick survey, Michel could see that the men they fought were not trained soldiers. They were unrefined and ragged. They took a moment to realize that they were under attack but quickly fell into their fighting stances. Michel rushed to his brother and Alex to help them control the center while the rest of the men fought around them.
“Brother,” Michel nodded. “Alex.”
“Brother,” said Philippe, obviously relieved. “Very nice to see you.”
“Monsieur,” Alex said. “I shall greet you properly at another time.”
“I shall hold you to that,” Michel said as a man came at him. He lunged with his sword and dove into the fight.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Michel’s help had come not a moment too soon. Between the three of them and the rest of their company, they had laid out nearly half of the Marquis’ men. Alex felt a new rush of excitement as she realized she was fighting with such talented soldiers. She lunged forward and caught a sour man with a dirty face across the trunk. He came back at her again and took a long shot over her head, but she ducked in time. She swung around and narrowly missed his head with the tip of her blade. He made a kissing face at her. She struck again and pierced him right through the shoulder. The mancried out and fell to the ground, writhing with pain. She jumped around, looking for someone else to fight. Michel fought Giroux while Philippe was back to taking it out on the Marquis. The rest of the men were holding their own. Philippe took a lunge at the Marquis and by the angle of his sword she could tell he was trying not to kill the man, just tire him out. He was beautiful when he fought, she thought, momentarily distracted by his form. He was beautiful when he did just about anything.
Just then she felt a strong hand around her ankle. It was Kissy-Face back from the dead. It startled her so much that she let out a cry causing Philippe and Michel to look over at her. In the split second that their attention was drawn away, the Marquis cracked Philippe hard across his side, and Girouxnailed Michel in the jaw with a solid punch. Alex panicked at the domino effect and kicked the manaway from her, stumbling right into the line of fire between Philippe and the Marquis. The Marquis, wasting no time, jumped out and grabbed a handful of her hair, causing her to trip back across the dirt. Before he could get a decent hold on her, Philippe swung his sword violently and took a meaty slice across the Marquis’ leg. The flesh burst open like a split sausage. The Marquis howled at the pain as he dropped to the ground, releasing Alex as he did.
With their leader immobilized, Giroux threw down his sword and put his hands up in surrender. The rest of the men took this as their cue and began to drop their stances. The Chevalerie soldiers raced around, collecting their weapons and controlling their forces.
Seeing the fight coming to an end, Alex smiled weakly at the two brothers whose matching grimaces directed at her made her laugh. They were fine. She couldn’t believe it had gone in their favor, but they would all be fine.
Within fifteen minutes, the rebels were bound and plans were made to start back towards Aliette. The Marquis still lay in the dirt, howling in pain. Philippe looked at him in disgust. Quite the tyrant when things were going his way, and now a complete waste.
His comrades tied the hands of those who could pose a threat, while Alex went to the Marquis to begin wrapping his wound, as he sputtered and whimpered. She was kinder than Philippe would have been. He would like to see the man bleed out.
“Ow, be careful with me. I am old,” the Marquis growled at Alex.
“I do this for your lovely wife and children, not you, you stupid swine,” she said, knotting the bandages tightly. He grimaced.
Philippe chuckled.
Once they had a moment, Philippe approached and embraced his brother. “You came at just the right time.”
“I was home barely any time at all, and you ruined it. Father was going to come up here himself to put out your fire.”
“How was I to know that the contact he gave me was indeed the foe I was tracking?”
“This is why brains are important, Little Brother.” Then he lowered his voice. “And not just women.” He nodded towards Alex and gave Philippe an inquisitive look.
Philippe smiled and looked at Alex. “That story is not yet finished, Big Brother. I shall have to tell it another day.”
“Fair enough,” nodded Michel. “Now, let’s get these men transported and locked up. Again.”
It was then they took on the great task of getting everyone to Aliette. Many men on both sides needed medical attention, and everyone needed lodging for the night. The prisoners needed to be documented, the horses needed to be tended, and Michel and Philippe had a storm of letters to send up and down the region.
The day had not been easy on anyone. The whole town of Aliette had been on alert as the future Duke and his brother transported nearly fifty men through its gates. The townsmen erected a temporary barracks for the wounded, and the doctor ran from patient to patient. The magistrates were tasked with filling the prison cells and were threatened to be hanged themselves if someone were set free again without the explicit permission of either Philippe or Michel. The little inn was filled to the brim and several locals opened their homes to men who still needed a bed. Michel and Philippe were invited to stay at the Chancellor’s mansion, and Philippe made sure Alex would have accommodation there as well. Aliette, that day, was busting at the seams.
Of all the prisoners, the Marquis alone had been given special accommodations. Even under arrest, his station required that he be treated with certain diplomacy. So, he too, it was decided, would be kept in the Chancellor’s house, under strict security. The doctor explained to Michel and Philippe that he had lost a great deal of blood from his wound, which had filleted his outer leg from knee to hip, but he, for the moment, was stable. However, if he did survive, he was unlikely to walk on the leg again.
There wasn’t a soul in town who wasn’t exhausted. By nightfall, the activity had settled. Philippe had had a chance to clean himself up and sit for a brief meal between sending out correspondence and meeting with themagistrates. Michel was just as busy, and they had conferred only in passing throughout the day. He hadn’t seen Alex, but he knew she was in the mansion, as he had paid a couple of footmen to let him know if she decided to leave. The day had given him many duties, but she wasn’t getting away before he had a chance to yell at her for running… and to tell her how he felt.
