Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The dinner that night was subdued as Philippe recounted what he could with Ponce officials, who were all, more than anything, relieved to hear that the rebels had departed the area.
Good and bad had come from their journey that day.
The cavern had been empty, just as he suspected.
Well, not exactly empty. The rebels had done a commendable job of obscuring their presence, but hasty dugouts revealed tobacco, flint, and other trappings.
There were no clues about their new destination, however.
It was good for Ponce and the other vulnerable towns.
It meant they wouldn’t sustain any attacks anytime soon, at least until these men could get their bearings.
But it was frustrating for Philippe. His job was not over until this mystery was solved and justice was dealt.
This mission was becoming more complicated and dangerous with every turn.
His party had sustained its first injury, and the longer they toiled at finding these men, the better chance of another.
He was loath to tell his father they had made no real progress other than discovering an empty lair.
He had counted on being able to trap them in the caves, but they had figured out his intentions minutes too soon.
He was going to have to canvas the entire countryside in order to pick up a trail.
His cousin had told him to be patient; the thought had twisted in him like a bad stew.
Patience was his sore spot, and this could take months.
Something else was off. He’d already determined that these rebels had more backing than their crimes would suggest. Better weapons, better intelligence, perhaps even more men than he originally thought.
Their spoils indicated unorganized looters, lowbrow men.
But there was precision in their attacks.
That meant someone smart was making the decisions.
However, it couldn’t last long because controlling unskilled men for hire was no easy task.
Philippe hoped he could find a way to exploit that.
After dinner, the men went to bed early, no revelry in the air.
Philippe, too, retired, but he lay in his bed, unable to sleep.
He wanted to start off immediately, while any chance of a fresh trail still existed.
Even then, he itched in his bed wanting to get moving, and he fought with every muscle not to jump up and rouse his men.
His gut told him the rebels would not go far, but he had no way of knowing for sure.
Still any hunch was better than sitting and waiting for their fate to change, and he would rather go anywhere than nowhere.
However, a few things required attention before they could leave.
They needed updated maps of the region. They needed to consult hunters who knew the countryside and of any stand-alone structures that may offer shelter in the area.
He needed to write to his father. He also wanted to send local men into the caves to catalogue the contents of the hoards, but they would need someone to guide them.
Alex was the obvious choice for that, but he wasn’t going to send her away with a bunch of unknown men unless he himself was present.
Perhaps the cataloguing could wait as long as the entrances remained guarded.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. There was much to do.
But despite everything that was running through his head, the thing nagging at him the most was Alex.
He’d really managed to piss her off when he made her stay behind.
Truth be told, he was relieved to have a reason to get her out of harm’s way.
He was sorry it came at the expense of Sébastien but having her around was a burdensome tax on his own effectiveness.
Alex’s help in the caves had been invaluable—he could never have led that party himself—but the second the twists and turns ended, he wanted her out of the equation.
Too much of his energy was spent worrying about her—would they have an encounter, would they be ambushed, would he be able to protect her?
Alex may have been hired to guide, but he was no slouch at tracking himself.
Her job was to take them through the caves.
That phase of the journey was over. Now what was he going to do with her?
He’d felt her resentment as solidly as the rocks falling from the walls.
She was good at what she did, and he knew she had pride in it.
He would never insult a man’s good work by ending his contract before the journey was over.
Was it fair to do it to her? What’s more, he knew, indubitably, that if he didn’t let her continue with this party, he would never, ever, see her again.
Despite the torture in his head and his heart, he eventually dozed off.
But before sleep completely overtook him, clamoring commotion at the doors to the inn woke him like cold water to the face.
He was on his feet in an instant and at the window of the room.
He could hear horse hooves in the distance, but he couldn’t make out the riders.
He rushed into the hallway, haphazardly pulling on any clothes he could find, and ran right into Alex.
He stared at her for a moment, forgetting what he was doing as he realized she wore nothing more than a long night shift with her sword belt around her waist. The shift clung to her body, and he was halted by the sight before she glared at him and pulled her own jacket around her.
She, along with his other men, all in various states of disarray, rushed past him into the main hall.
He shook his head, refocusing on the present, and followed.
The innkeeper and several attendants were already at the door, busy lighting up the room with candles and torches. The innkeeper paced nervously in his nightcap, holding a candle that shook in his hand.
“Open the door,” demanded Philippe.
“But sir—” he said.
“Don’t worry,” said Philippe, drawing his sword. “These men aren’t keen on showing themselves.”
The innkeeper hesitated for a moment before he lifted the heavy wooden plank that secured the entrance.
The door creaked open. The light from their candles poured ahead of them into the darkness, but Philippe could see nothing out of place.
With his sword drawn, he took a tentative step into the night.
“Torch,” he said, holding his free hand back.
The innkeeper gave a signal to one of the attendants, who jumped to grab a torch from a fixture on the wall and place it in Philippe’s outstretched hand.
Philippe took a few more quiet steps into the darkness, but there was nothing to be seen.
He felt his men creeping out behind him.
He took rapid analysis of the situation.
He hoped Alex had stayed in the safety of the inn but knew she probably hadn’t.
He had to put that out of his mind. He looked out into the blackness.
The moon only lit to the small bridge before the town square.
Beyond that, he knew there was a stream, trees, and more darkness.
He strained his ears, but even the rumble of horse hooves had gone away into the night.
But then the innkeeper broke the silence.
“My Lord? Perhaps we heard this?”
Philippe turned back to the entrance. There, nailed to the door, was a parchment. He walked back and ripped it from the nail.
Alex stood before him and held a candle near so he could read what it said.
“Caverne de la Cathédrale. Sunset.” Philippe read. He turned to Alex. “Does that mean something to you?”
She nodded. “It’s not far.”
He looked around at his men. “I suppose we shall finally see their faces,” he said, gritting his teeth with both relief and anxiety.