Iron Horsemen (23 page)

I dropped the hammer on the table. “That sounds great. I'm starving.”

Eustache guided us through a large banquet hall that held one of longest tables I had ever seen, and into a small dining room with an ordinary wooden table and four chairs around it.

“Please have a seat. Bertrand makes the best food, and tonight he is serving one of his specialties—beef bourguignon.”

I rubbed my stomach. “Sounds delicious.”

A moment later the servant appeared and presented each of us with a plate covered by a silver dome. Bertrand removed the lid from Eustache's plate and said, “May I present, beef bourguignon with onions, mushroom, and petite boiled potatoes.”

“Thank you, Bertrand.”

The tender beef was smothered in the most delicious sauce I had ever eaten. I didn't know if this was just the first great meal I'd had since leaving America, or if I was just really hungry after all the hard work I'd done today. Either way, I couldn't stop eating.

Ice cream came for dessert. I couldn't believe it. I had tried ice cream once, on a trip with my father to New York City, but this was creamier and chocolate. I moaned as I licked the spoon clean. “This must be how ambrosia tastes.”

Genevieve chuckled.

Eustache licked his spoon clean, too. “Ice cream is definitely one of the finer things in life.”

We returned to the study after dinner. Bertrand brought hot chocolate for Genevieve and I and coffee for his lordship.

Eustache took a drink and then walked over to a bookcase. He removed a dusty tome. “You two might find this interesting.” He set down the thick, hardened parchment manuscript. The cover, embossed in large gold print, read: Histoire de l'Ordre. “It's called…”

“It's in French.” My heart quickened. “History of the Order. The Templars?”

“It tells the tale of the Templars since they were disbanded.”

“What sent them underground?” I asked.

“King Philip the Fair, as he was known, conspired to rid the world of Templars. On October 13th, 1307, it was a Friday, the king had every Templar arrested. My ancestor was Grand Master at the time, and he was burned at the
stake. It was horrible and has led the world to fear every Friday the Thirteenth.”

I ran my fingers through my hair in disbelief. “But they were knights.”

“The Templars were wealthy and Philip needed gold, but there was another reason, too. He was a member of the Knights of the Golden Circle. He had declared all of the Templars heretics, but my ancestor got his revenge. At his execution, he cursed the king saying he would join him within the year. The king died a few months later.”

“Whoa.”

“I didn't think the Golden Circle was that old,” Genevieve said as she sipped her hot chocolate.

Eustache put his hand on my shoulder. “The current circle was formed after your country's civil war, but their roots are much older.”

I clenched my fingers trying to force the chill of his words away. My father never talked about the war, and I never asked. Maybe it was different in the south, but up north, it wasn't something grownups talked to kids about. I just knew I was glad I hadn't had to live through it.

Eustache circled the room and Genevieve and I sat in two chairs covered in the softest leather I'd ever felt. “One sacred duty the Templars accepted was to defend mankind against the four horsemen and other demonic threats.”

I watched him closely and nodded along with each beat of his tale.

“Just because the world turned on the Templars doesn't mean that sacred duty ended.”

He stopped behind Genevieve's chair. “Great men have always stood up to evil, and the Kensingtons have been in the fight for generations.”

“Really? My father and grandfather are special agents of the queen, and my father loves to tell stories of our ancestors. But some are so outlandish, I thought they were
just family lore. Almost like family fairy tales.”

He smiled. “Oh, they are so much more than that.”

Genevieve's voice trembled. “What do you mean?”

“The last time the four horsemen appeared was in 1588. They assembled the largest armada Europe had ever seen. Admiral Kensington—your ancestor—destroyed their Spanish Galleon the
Cuatro Jintes
.”

I shook the haze from my head and stared at Genevieve. “Your family fought these things before?”

“Several times,” Eustache answered. “Death and destruction go hand and hand with the horsemen. A Kensington tried to stop the Black Death in the 1340's, but the Templars had been destroyed thirty years prior. With so few allies he could not hold the plague back.”

Genevieve's shoulders slumped as she remembered every story her dad had told her, as if the weight of history and all those battles pressed down on her back. Then Eustache turned to me.

“The Kensington's are not the only ones with a history tangled up with the Knights of the Golden Circle and the horsemen. Turn to the title page, Alexander.”

I went back to the book and flipped to the title page where an inscription was written in an elegant script. I read it aloud.
“‘For my friend, Pierre de Moley. A brother in arms, now it's time for you to bear the history. Your friend, William Armitage.'
There's a date, 1715.”

“Bravo, an excellent translation.”

I reread the inscription three times. One of my ancestors had been a Templar! I ran my fingers over the ink. I didn't have the long history of family tales. My stories didn't go past my grandfather, but here was proof of someone over a hundred years before. It humbled me.

Eustache placed the book back on the shelf. “Now we should get some sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow. Especially if we're going to get the Mystic Wind airborne.”

Genevieve followed Bertrand, as I lingered a moment staring at the book tucked into its place on the shelf. Then Bertrand escorted us both upstairs to a couple of rooms at the end of a long hall. The rooms had no layer of dust or sheets covering the ornate furniture. I assumed Bertrand had been preparing them all night. The soft linens, downy pillow and mattress felt like heavenly clouds and I slipped easily into a deep sleep.

We rose with the dawn and after breakfast, Eustache led us out to the garden house where the Mystic Wind waited. We all began work immediately. Genevieve set to work mending the sails and within in no time, the holes began to disappear, covered instead by the luxurious silk from her stolen dress. So much needed repair that it was mid-morning when we finally began inflating the balloon. All was going well when I doubled over with a pain so severe, I felt like I'd been stabbed through the stomach. Genevieve shot me a questioning glance and ran to my side.

Eustache spun around. “What's wrong?”

Genevieve put her arm on my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Someone's coming,” I gasped. “I don't know how I know, but….”

“I'll see who it is and send them away. If not, your duty is to get this craft in the air and get to London.”

“It's danger—” I started, but the pain silenced me.

Eustache stepped into the garden and Genevieve ran to a window to see who it could be.

“It's a man in a long black coat and hat. He's entered the garden from the other side,” she said as I struggled to stand upright.

The nobleman called out in a stern voice. “Trespasser. I demand you leave my property this instant.”

Genevieve gasped just as I made it to the window. There he was. Col. Hendrix! Striding fast through the garden, he tipped back his hat to reveal the bronze plates and sparking electric eye.

“They call me War,” he said, “and I've come for the kids.”

Genevieve and I saw the disgust on Eustache's face as he faced the Colonel.

“I'm afraid you cannot have them,” he said and turned as Bertrand stepped from the shadows, a golden-hilted rapier in his hand.

I pressed against the window to get a better view. I couldn't hear them, but didn't need to. Their expressionless faces conveyed one message—a fight was imminent.

“So it's to be a duel, then,” the colonel said.

Eustache bowed as he drew the rapier.

“I'll kill you where you stand, Frenchy.”

“I doubt that, you're more machine than man now.”

“Lord Kannard sends his greetings.” Hendrix's wicked smile curled the corner of his mouth. “He says he regrets that you must die, but perhaps you would prefer this way. Death will spare you from enslavement.”

“How kind of him to think of old friends at a time like this.”

“I'll enjoy spilling your blue blood all over this garden.”

“If you don't mind, may we start? I have other matters to attend to.”

Colonel Hendrix retracted his bronze right hand and the serrated blade locked into place.

Eustache shook his head. “Not even a real sword, how dissatisfying.” He lunged and his downward thrust barely missed the colonel. He pressed his attack only to be parried by Hendrix who countered with several slashes that pushed Eustache back toward the main house.

I wiped off the dirty window with my sleeve to get a clearer view. I wanted to help, but knew we should remain hidden—at least until the airskiff was ready to fly. Studying their movements, I tried to determine who would win, but Genevieve returned to the sail and tore a swatch from the dress to patch it.

“How can you patch the sails right now?” I asked without taking my eyes off the duel.

“Our duty is to escape. Eustache is fighting Hendrix to give us the time to finish our repairs. You heard him.”

“I know, but its Col. Hendrix. We should go help Eustache.”

“This is a matter of honor.” Genevieve's fingers began stitching again. “We cannot interfere.”

“The man who attacked my father is in the garden, and I'm hiding in a shed.”

“You shouldn't be hiding. You should be filling the balloon with air in case….”

“But—” I knew she was right.

“Alexander, you know this is bigger than one sword fight.”

“You're right, we have to get the potion back to London.”

“I'm sure Eustache is a fine swordsman, he comes from a long line of swordsmen. We must take advantage of this opportunity.”

The clatter of swords drew my attention back to the window. Eustache pushed the colonel toward the fountain in the center of the garden. Col. Hendrix leapt onto the marble ledge and his serrated blade ripped through Eustache's coat.

I gasped and gripped the windowsill. Hendrix's attacks pushed the nobleman back toward his villa. Eustache forced him away with parries, but stumbled as he blocked the confederate.

I couldn't watch any longer. I checked on the balloon.
Genevieve finished sewing the pieces of her dress over the largest hole in the sail. The balloon swelled to ever-greater dimensions and showed no holes or leaks. I looked over the engine and pushed down the lever ever so slightly to quicken the inflation. I just hoped Eustache would last until we could all escape.

Peering over my shoulder into the garden, I cringed. Eustache had been cut in the shoulder.

When the balloon was large enough to lift the boat, I anchored it with two lines and ran to the window. Colonel Hendrix forced Eustache back to the steps. Hendrix kicked the Frenchman to the stone. I feared what would happen next and ran out of the shed. I reached for my Thumper, but felt nothing.

I hadn't taken it to the Louvre.

I snatched up a flower pot and hurled it. The terra cotta shattered against Hendrix who whirled around. Eustache leapt up.

The confederate smiled. “I was waiting for you to stick your head up, kid.”

“You'll not harm him.” Eustache raised his sword toward the colonel. “Alexander, get out of here.”

“Alexander,” Col. Hendrix good eye focused and a shudder rippled through me. “I'm here to make you an offer. Come with us and become a Horseman.”

“What? Me?” I felt like I'd been hit in the gut.

“Yes, you. You want adventure, right? Respect? Men with fancy titles to treat you like an equal? We hold the key to everything you've dreamed of—”

“I'll never join you!” I was shaking, breathing hard as if I'd just finished a five mile run.

“That's the spirit!” Eustache called out.

“Are you sure?” Hendrix ignored the nobleman and walked toward me. “Wealth. More money than you could ever imagine.”

I didn't need money and had a big imagination. I shook my head.

“Power.” Hendrix clenched his fist. “When you enter a room men will tremble.”

“Do you want allies or slaves by your side?” Eustache asked me, advancing in the classic fencing pose as Hendrix thrust his arm out, holding him back with the serrated blade.

“What about that girl of yours? Kensington's daughter. Is she cowering in the shed?”

I glanced back at the shed and hoped Genevieve hadn't heard that. If she had, she'd probably come running out to join the fight.