CHAPTER 27 #2
“Just spreading a little religious cheer,” Adrien replied brightly. “My companions and I are seeking donations for the orphans in Arles and villages like it. Would you have anything you wish to give, good sir?”
Cap could feel the guard’s eyes on him, so he gripped the staff with both hands, leaning forward until his shoulder rested against it. “Bonjour, mon ami,” he growled. “Laisse-moi passer, et je ne mettrai pas de flèche en toi.” Good day, my friend. Let me pass, and I won’t put an arrow in you.
Adrien cleared his throat. “Father Tuck adds his pleas on behalf of the orphans. May we count on your assistance?”
“You could understand him?” the guard replied. “Sounded like gibberish to me.”
“He’s a touch senile,” Jean-haut stage-whispered. A hand landed on Cap’s shoulder. “It’s best if you just smile and nod.”
Cap tipped his head toward his friend and narrowed his eyes. “Peut-être, je le mettrai en toi, mon ami.” Maybe I should put one in you, my friend.
“You see?” Jean-haut patted him. “Crazy as a loon.”
Lifting his head a little, Cap watched the lead guard from under his hood. A group of ten mounted guards rode behind him, ranging from mid-teens to middle-aged. But all bore the same somber expression: there wasn’t a chuckle or a smile among them.
The best trained men in the guard? Or was their mission so serious that Jean-haut’s joking couldn’t overcome its effect on them?
The horses that Cap had just left nosed at his mind, but he ignored them. The estate had enough horses that these guards wouldn’t notice any extras. They wouldn’t demand paperwork on every animal on the grounds.
Even if it had been Adrien’s comment at the checkpoint that had brought them.
The lead guard rummaged in the pouch at his waist, then flipped a coin to Adrien. “General Valentin’s best wishes for the orphans. Now be on your way.”
“Thank you, good sir. Blessings on you and the good regent,” Adrien said with a respectful half bow.
Cap wanted to know the soldiers’ purpose, but he couldn’t ask. Nor should he linger when his friends’ status was uncertain. Cheval would have to deal with it on his own.
As Jean-haut gently prodded Cap forward, the guards’ horses jumped into a trot. Cap locked his ankles and stumbled a few steps as the column passed.
“Brilliant,” Jean-haut chuckled once they were clear. “None of those men suspected a thing. What was it you said in your beloved Old Amitian?”
“I threatened to—” he broke off in a cough when more ash tickled his throat— “put an arrow in them if they didn’t let us pass.” He brought an arm up to cover another cough. “This disguise will be the death of me.”
“But just think, Cap!” Jean-haut grinned. “If we can find the right method, you’ll be able to walk right past the General without drawing a second glance.”
The idea had merit. Especially as he recalled the General’s recent actions and what he wanted to do about them.
“As long as your magic works like you say it will,” he grouched, hiding his smile.
“Whether I did it right this time or not, it can be done,” Jean-haut easily replied. “If you decide you want to repeat this adventure, I can make it happen.”
~
The road was lined with trees and empty in both directions, but Cap bent low over his staff and looked as decrepit as possible while ascending the slope.
Something didn’t feel right, so he planned to maintain his disguise until they were safely off the road. A little delay was worth it if they avoided the bigger delay of a fight.
His concern for Margit itched to have Jean-haut check the tokens again, but he refrained. He needed the forester’s focus on their surroundings right now.
A massive rock sat to one side of the path. Cap gripped his staff more tightly as they rounded it, sending his eyes rapidly from one side to the other. This would be a decent place for—
“Good morning, gentlemen. No sudden moves, if you please.”
The smooth voice came from above. Leaning on his staff with both hands, Cap twisted his head so he could see the masked man standing on the boulder. He had short dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and a debonair smile.
He also held a longbow, but it rested on the stone, adding to the bandit’s cavalier appearance. Cap could see how the casual confidence might intimidate normal passersby.
“Good day, sir,” Adrien greeted. “We are humble church folk collecting money for the orphans in Arles and villages like it. Can you find it in your heart to contribute to our cause?”
If they ever restored the prince to his throne, Adrien should give up his violin and take to the stage as an actor.
“Collecting for the orphans?” the masked man replied, pressing his free hand to his chest. “How fortuitous; so am I.”
He jumped off the boulder. Two more men drifted out of the shadows behind it, one with a drawn sword, the other with an arrow nocked on a lowered bow.
Holding out a hand, he continued, “To make things more efficient, you can give your donations to me, and I’ll pass them along to the orphans.”
“And who might you be, good sir?” Adrien politely inquired.
“You don’t know?” The man tipped his head back in a loud laugh. “I am the infamous Le Capuchon, scourge of Amitié!”
Fortuitous, indeed. Cap couldn’t attack eleven guards in an open field, but he could stop three posers who were sullying his name.
“Idiote,” he said pleasantly. “Le Capuchon porte un capuchon.” Idiot. The Hood wears a hood. Then he slammed his staff into the ground.
The bandit and his friends gave him quizzical looks, twisting their mouths as if tempted to laugh.
“Whoops.” Jean-haut reached over and tapped it. “I’ll have to work on that.”
Little sparks of magic jumped up Cap’s hand as the staff sprang back into a bow. Straightening, he whisked an arrow from his quiver and sent it into the shoulder of the ready archer.
Shock flitted across the fake Capuchon’s face as he whipped his bow into position, but another arrow was already flying his way. The swordsman lunged forward with a snarl.
While Cap jumped back, Jean-haut swung his staff into position, catching the blade with a solid block. The strength of the man’s blow would have cracked an ordinary piece of wood, but Jean-haut’s staff was as dense and solid as his plant magic could make it.
The swordsman wrenched his weapon free and attacked again. Jean-haut blocked twice more, then dropped under the next swing and swiped the staff at his opponent’s knees.
And just like that, the fight was over.
Adrien was already wading through the brush behind the boulder in search of the men’s belongings. They had no rope or bandages, so Cap had to use his precious supply to truss them up and dress their wounds.
“We’ll send word to the local barracks to collect you,” he barked in his Le Capuchon voice. “Try not to expire before then.”
Grabbing one of their packs, he motioned to his friends and strode off into the woods. They would need to take the long way back now that his cover was blown, but at least he could finally walk upright and with his full stride.
He let Jean-haut take the lead through the unfamiliar trees. Adrien walked in the middle, and Cap covered their tail, eyes roving constantly.
A checkpoint. A squad at the Cheval estate. And now a trio of second-rate bandits on the road. Even if he wasn’t on edge from Margit’s missing token, this day would have had him on high alert.
Second-rate… He considered his assessment as they hiked. Second to him, perhaps, but the swordsman had been familiar with his weapon, and the leader’s form had looked decent before Cap’s arrow took him down.
“Cap.” Adrien’s soft word drew his attention. “You should see this.”
Increasing his pace, Cap joined him. “What is it?”
“I found these in one of the bags.” Adrien held out his hand, but Cap didn’t take it. He preferred to keep both hands on his bow.
Adrien uncurled his fingers. On his palm lay a flat piece of metal.
Engraved with the insignia of an Amitian sergeant.
Bubbling heat spread through his chest. “And to think I once trusted him,” Cap growled. His left hand tightened around his bow. “The General is using his own men to spread rumors of my villainy.”
Jean-haut turned toward him. “Why would he do that? What’s the point?”
“Several things.” Cap forced his eyes away from the pin and relaxed his jaw.
“First, he fills his coffers with items pilfered from travelers. Because Le Capuchon is causing such trouble, he justifies the increase in taxes to find the bandit and bring him to justice. And by targeting all travelers with no goodwill to the poor to offset it, he turns the people against me. They will be less willing to help and more likely to betray us to the General or his men.”
But what should he have expected from a man who would commit regicide and frame the crown prince for his crime?
“What are we going to do about it?”
That was the question, wasn’t it?
What could a handful of outlaws do to stop an unlawful regent from terrorizing the people?
His outlaws…
A frisson of fear wrapped itself around the heat of his anger. Margit was too quick to be beaten by the sergeant-bandit he’d just defeated. But there might be others, and he’d put her in the position of protector.
His eyes dropped to his too-short cloak and his gray beard. “First, we rejoin our friends.” He lifted his hard gaze to meet his friend’s. “Then we teach the General a lesson.”