Gene of Isis (27 page)

‘Very good.’ The steward took his leave.

‘Well, Mademoiselle Winston, or is it Madame Devere? It seems you suddenly have a whole lot more explaining to do.’

I could hardly believe the tale Albray had me spinning, and yet there was enough truth in it for me to sound convincing—all those years of telling stories to Susan suddenly came in very handy.

Because of my birthmark and my aforementioned occult connections, de Guise didn’t have too much trouble believing that I was on a secret mission to the Holy Land for the Order de Sion. Or, rather, Albray had me telling the duke I had been sent by the Scottish chapter of the order—the Sangreal knighthood. I had no idea what I was talking about, but it seemed I knew the name of the secret brotherhood to which Mr Devere belonged, and Albray managed to work this little fact into our story. We said that I had been posing as Devere’s wife for the mission, but that I suspected treachery—which was not entirely untrue. I told the duke I fled Devere’s company upon reaching France to pursue my mission on my own.

‘And what is your purpose in the Holy Land?’ The duke was clearly dying to be made privy to my secret mission, for he was most intrigued by my yarn spinning.

Tell him you’ll die before you disclose your mission.

I think that would be tempting fate,
I argued.

He’ll expect nothing less from one of the blood.

‘I could tell you, your grace,’ my determination hardened, ‘but then I’d have to kill you…as I am sure you are well aware.’

Very nicely delivered,
Albray commended me.
I’ll make a knight of you yet.

When the duke grinned broadly, I didn’t show how unnerving it was for me. Was he going to commend or kill me?

‘If you are on a secret mission for the said
Brotherhood
—’ he stressed the word ‘—and suspect you have been betrayed by your protector, Mr Devere, I can hardly allow you to leave my house without assigning you some protection of my own.’

That would not be desirable,
Albray stated the obvious.
Tell him you’ve been trained to protect yourself.

‘Your grace is very generous,’ I moved to courteously decline, ‘but I have been well trained to protect myself, and if the gypsies are freed—’

‘Really!’ the duke interrupted, intrigued by my claim and eager to avoid the subject of his prisoners. ‘You are a trained killer, Lady du Lac?’ The very idea brought a smile to his face, or perhaps it was his new name for me that tickled his fancy.

Christ, I do believe he is going to call our bluff!
I panicked, and felt the heat of fear rising in my cheeks.

Not to worry, we can sustain our fabrication.

‘I am a swordsman myself,’ de Guise announced. ‘As are all the brothers.’

Yes!
Albray cheered.

‘And a very good one, I am sure, your grace.’ I turned to my own tactics before this got out of hand. ‘However, I could not fight one of royal blood, especially one I have worked so hard this day to protect.’

‘Come, come, my dear…just a little fun, nothing too serious.’ De Guise stood, stubbornly resolved to a challenge. ‘You can fight my best swordsman if it makes you feel more comfortable. After all, how am I to be sure that you are not spinning me tall tales, and it is, in fact, Mr Devere who is telling me the truth?’

Fine with us.
Albray was keen.

How on earth do I get myself into these things?
As life was just one big entertainment to the aristocracy, I thought I’d better make sure I was going to achieve my objective if I was to meet this
challenge. I certainly didn’t want it evolving into an extended game of cat and mouse. ‘If I prove I am competent enough to accomplish my own quest, your grace, will you then release Cingar?’

The duke frowned, perturbed at the mention of him, but not displeased with me. ‘Why is the gypsy so important to you?’

‘He is my guide to the Mediterranean,’ I explained. ‘He is vital to me achieving my objective.’

‘But I can supply an army to accompany you. I have boats—’

‘Your grace…’ I interrupted politely, ‘this is a
secret
mission. The gypsy band is the perfect cover. I must free their captain. I must have Cingar.’

The duke drew a deep breath, reluctant to acquiesce. ‘Such persuasion as you have must stem from otherworldly means.’

Although he said this in a complimentary fashion, I thought it best to refute his suggestion. ‘I am a woman of science, your grace. My skills in negotiation stem purely from training and education, I assure you.’ I wasn’t going to end up on a heresy charge. Albray had been right to insist that I avoid working any miracles here. De Guise may have been allied to the bloodline, but I knew his family was careful to preserve ties to the church as well.

‘Convince me with your skill and, by my vows to the bloodline, I could not deny you anything,’ he assured me.

I told you there was nothing to worry about.
Albray moved with us, as the duke led me to a suitable arena.

‘I must leave Orleans today,’ I added, to be perfectly clear on this point.

‘On my finest horse,’ the duke promised generously and I was satisfied. If Albray was as fine a swordsman as he claimed to be—and my knight had not failed me to date—there was no reason to believe that we would not make a fine showing for the duke.

On the second morning of our journey to Orleans, Lord Devere and I were awoken in the early hours by the head maidservant at the hotel. She had heard from the coachman that Mr Devere had left our accommodation late last night, having purchased a saddled horse from a man in the salon downstairs.

It was my worst fear come to pass.

‘Did he leave an address of where he was headed?’ My Lord Devere was out of bed and ringing the bell for the servants to attend us.

‘He left this for you at the desk, my lord.’ The head maid handed the note to my husband, whereby she curtseyed and departed as the house staff entered to dress us. ‘He has gone to visit Gasgon de Guise, Duke of Orleans.’ Lord Devere raised both brows, intrigued. ‘He does not mention why, however.’

‘After our meeting with the gypsies our brother said something about a rescue mission.’ The notion did not preoccupy me long—there would be time to consider motives once we were on the move.

‘The Duc de Guise is not a man to be toyed with.’ My husband looked worried as he explained this in the carriage.

‘I feel certain that our sister would have considered the danger before pursuing any business with the duke.’ Or so I hoped! ‘Or perhaps she merely has business with someone else in the household and not the duke at all.’

My lord still appeared worried, although he forced himself to better his spirits for my sake. ‘It shall be a pleasure to make his acquaintance, I’m sure.’

We spent the better half of the day in the carriage, and upon reaching our destination we were told that the duke was unavailable for the rest of the day. The duchess wasn’t accepting guests either, as there had been illness in the house—we were assured that the emergency had passed, however.

‘And has a Mr Devere requested an audience with your duke this day?’ Lord Devere inquired.

‘Oui, Monsieur,’
the steward reported, slightly exasperated about the fact. ‘The duke could not see him today, but as he refused to leave before gaining an audience, the duke kindly extended Monsieur Devere accommodation for the night.’

‘May I see Mr Devere?’ my husband requested, sneaking me a smile. His brother’s persistence amused him, and I think my lord was pleased that we’d caught up with his little brother before he did himself and their family name any damage. ‘I am his older brother, James Devere, Earl of Oxford.’

‘Of course, my lord.’ The steward humbled himself a peg. ‘Monsieur Devere is in the Long Gallery. If you will follow me.’ The steward led us up the grand staircase beyond the foyer.

In the Long Gallery we found our brother looking out a set of huge windows. He appeared to be completely contented with the view. In fact, I had not seen him so at peace in a week.

‘Earnest,’ Lord Devere called to his brother, but he did not look to us as we approached. ‘Earnest, what in god’s name are we doing at the court of the Duc de Guise?’

I looked for the source of Devere’s enchantment to see our dear sister in a courtyard, armed with a sword and duelling with another swordsman in front of the duke.

‘Oh, my god, it’s Ashlee,’ I mumbled, horrified. To the best of my knowledge, Ashlee knew nothing about swordplay, but observation told me differently, for she was well and truly holding her own against the competition.

‘She is magnificent,’ uttered Devere, openly revelling in the sight of the woman he desired.

‘Well, if she’s down there, let us go fetch her.’ Lord Devere headed for the door.

‘I have tried to get to her,’ Mr Devere informed him, sounding far calmer than one would expect. ‘The duke’s guards intercepted me and brought me straight back up here. So, for now, I must content myself with the knowledge that she is in my view,’ he nodded toward Ashlee, ‘and doing a far better job of defending herself than I gave her credit for…she displays all the valour and technique of an experienced knight.’ He was awed, relieved and delighted.

My eyes were glued to the duel taking place and when Ashlee tripped on her skirt and fell
backwards, it seemed the game was up. Devere and I both gasped. Ashlee’s opponent whipped his sword tip across her upper arm, tearing through the sleeve of her brown velvet frock to leave a trail of red in between the damaged fabric. Ashlee inspected her wound briefly, but did not nurse it. Surely it ailed her, yet it only seemed to make her more resolved to win the contest. She recovered her footing quickly and fought back with twice as much vigour as before. In a frightful onslaught Ashlee disarmed her opponent and, to the duke’s applause, she bowed to him to claim victory.

We all, in the Long Gallery, applauded the outcome.

‘That was extraordinary!’ My admiration for my friend worried Lord Devere, although he was quietly impressed himself.

‘Please don’t take a fancy to duelling, my love,’ he jested.

‘I daresay James fears the competition.’ Earnest defended his brother. ‘Swordplay is not his best attribute.’

James was mildly annoyed by his brother’s insult, but he did not refute it. ‘Give me a pistol any day.’

We watched as Ashlee passed her weapon to the man attending her and as she moved to approach the duke, he unexpectedly ordered her arrest.

‘What does he think he’s playing at?’ Devere protested, and would have stormed to Ashlee’s rescue had the duke’s guards not entered from both ends of the Long Gallery. ‘Ashlee!’ Devere yelled to his wife, desperate for her welfare.

A lot of good our magnificent duel had done me; now I was being arrested!

I could only suppose that the duke would tell me that my sword fighting skills were beyond the capabilities of a mortal female and that I had made a pact with the devil! Well, maybe that was not so far from the truth, I considered, turning my questioning gaze to Albray. He had parted with me as soon as the duel was over and was now accompanying me.

I don’t understand what went wrong.
My knight was as surprised as I was to be trailing the duke back to his room of court under guard.

It had felt wonderful, though, to wield a weapon with such precision. My stupid dress had proven to be our only downfall. Obviously, Albray was not used to fighting in so much excess fabric.

I’m sorry about the gash,
he said, obviously following my train of thought, or I his.

I hadn’t even felt the wound until Albray had departed my form—no doubt he had learned to ignore pain. My wound had begun to smart, however.

It
was that gown of yours…have you ever considered finding yourself a nice pair of trousers?

More than once actually.
A precious lot of good a change of clothing was going to do me now.

The guards left me in the room of court with the duke, who called for his steward to fetch a surgeon to tend my arm.

‘Do you intend to adhere to your blood oath, your grace?’ I asked before I accepted his help.

‘I do indeed,’ he assured me with a warm smile, which set my misgivings to rest. ‘And then some.’

‘But my arrest?’

‘Was a fabrication,’ he said merrily. ‘It seems your pesky Monsieur Devere refuses to leave before questioning me about you, and as he just witnessed your duel and arrest from the Long Gallery, I now have the perfect opportunity to delay him for you. While he pleads for your release, you and your gypsy party can be on your way.’

I was relieved to learn of the duke’s foresight. ‘That is brilliant, your grace. I could kiss you!’ I was so excited not to be thrown in prison, and to have freed the gypsies, that I quite lost my head.

‘I do wish you would.’ He grinned mischievously, and I obliged him with a kiss on the cheek.

‘Thank you, your grace.’ I then curtseyed to pay my respects. ‘I am most indebted to you.’

‘Nonsense,’ he chuckled. ‘We both know that it is I who is indebted to you…Lady du Lac.’ He took hold of my hand and kissed it.

The door to the room opened abruptly and I withdrew my hand from the duke’s and stepped away. I feared my husband was coming for me, but it was the Duchess de Guise and therefore I curtseyed deeply.

‘Enough is enough, my dear duke. I shall not allow you to arrest this woman.’ The duchess confronted her husband on my behalf. ‘Have you not seen our son?’ she appealed. ‘He is healthier than he has ever been. And our servants are recovering also.’

The duke was smiling as he said, ‘Anything for you, my love. You win. I will not arrest her.’

Surprised to have won so easily, the duchess decided to push her luck. ‘You will allow Mademoiselle Winston to depart Orleans this day, with
all
her companions.’

‘And on my best horse.’ The duke turned to me: ‘I do believe that was our arrangement?’

When the duchess saw my large smile and my affirmative nod, the penny dropped. ‘Including Cingar Choron?’ she said hopefully. As both the duke and I nodded, the duchess was possessed by happiness and embraced her husband. I looked away as they renewed their affection for each other.

‘It seems that whatever harm has been done to my house, you have completely undone,’ the duke said at last, calling for my attention. ‘True to the reputation of the fey, the magic you weave is pure inspiration.’

De Guise was not implying heresy this time. It was a true compliment; Albray had also referred to me as one of the fey, at our first meeting.

‘Just science and training, your grace,’ I insisted once more, smiling.

The duchess was delighted and clapped her hands together. ‘We shall make provision for your journey…food, wine, and an open cart to transport your party.’ She looked at her husband, certain that he would agree to anything in his present mood.

The duke cast his eyes over me as he seconded his wife’s kind offer of assistance. ‘Perhaps some new clothes for our heroine,’ he commented as his steward returned with the surgeon.

‘Could I impose on your grace for a suit of men’s clothes?’ I felt this was the perfect opportunity to change my identity. I would leave the lady behind in Orleans.

‘My very thought,’ the duke concurred, having witnessed my fall during the duel. ‘I think we can devise some far more suitable attire for one such as yourself.’

It soon became clear that Gasgon de Guise was indeed a man of his word. I left his house with a full belly, new attire, a sword, a pistol and
all
the gypsies, who were quite amazed at their release.

The horses that had carried Rumer and me to Orleans were hitched to the front of a cart large enough to carry supplies and the members of our party, of which there were fourteen.

I sat astride in the saddle of a fine white stallion named Destiny and as I rode from the house of de Guise, I embraced a real sense of achievement. It wasn’t that I had helped so many, or that I had left happiness in my wake: I had proven to myself that I needed no mortal protector. I had stepped into my own power and I felt like a valiant prince—there would be no going back to being a vulnerable princess. Come what may on my journey to the Sinai, I could handle it on my own…with just a little help from my friends in the spirit world.

My stomach would not forgo lunch any longer. I didn’t want to leave Ashlee’s tale, but the sound of my hunger pangs was becoming a serious distraction.

As I walked out into the blazing sun, the campsite was like a ghost town and I began to wonder if I’d been deserted.

I found the cook in the mess tent and he informed me in broken English that James Conally had accompanied Andre to town to meet our shipment. Those who remained on-site were sensibly sleeping off the heat of the day in their tents.

I picked up a tray of spoils: a sandwich, a chocolate bar, some fruit and more water, and returned to my abode. Awaiting me on my desk was
a note marked with a small red cross that looked suspiciously like my birthmark.

I opened and read the note, which was written in Arabic. It was from Akbar: he was awaiting an audience with me in the Cave of Hathor. I’d forgotten my suggestion to Akbar that we talk this afternoon.

Oh dear.
This presented me with a slight dilemma and I sat down to eat my lunch and dwell upon it.

I didn’t feel safe going to meet with Akbar and his men alone. If I took Albray’s stone along on my person, he would know my mind and perhaps perceive my little dream about him. I could carry the stone in my bag or a pocket, but I didn’t like not having Albray on hand. After much pondering I decided I would swiftly summon Albray and ask him to accompany me, and then place the stone in my bag. If I was quick, hopefully my knight wouldn’t have the chance to perceive any of my little fantasies about him.

Miss Montrose, how are you this fine day?
Albray asked upon arrival, sounding suspiciously chirpy.

‘Well, thank you.’ I slipped his stone into my bag. ‘And you?’

Very well,
he affirmed, still smiling broadly.

I’d never seen my knight so jovial before. ‘And what is the cause of today’s frightfully good cheer?’

Albray shrugged off his good mood. ‘I don’t know…some days it’s just grand to be a spirit.’

I wasn’t too sure what to make of that. I was unwilling to raise the subject of my dream; if he raised it, I could deny it.

‘Akbar wants to meet with me.’ I explained the reason for the summons.

Yes,
Albray nodded,
and you would do well to heed his advice.

‘What makes you say that?’

Albray fixed me with a knowing look. I
told you I would be of service if left at leisure.

That seemed to explain what Albray did with his free time in the land of the living. ‘My own personal spy,’ I said, honoured, before I departed the tent with Albray following. ‘What did you find out about him?’ I whispered my question, even though the steep dirt track I ascended to the ruins was completely devoid of people.

He belongs to an order of warriors known as the Melchi. They protect the interests of the ancient Egyptian order of Melchi-Zadok.

Melchi-Zadok,
roughly translated, meant priest-kings, and this ancient order had eventually become known as
Melchizedek.