Thief By Knight

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The last day of travel to San Sebastien was the most difficult Grantaire had ever known. Worried over Enjolras and afraid Armand's men would come back to finish them off, he felt like a piece of hide that had been stretched tight and left in the sun to dry. His eyes ached from lack of sleep, yet he could not close them when they stopped to rest. Instead he paced around Enjolras's stretcher, a make-shift affair of wood and cloth they'd rigged up so that gentle Ganelon could drag it behind him. He was relieved when they started moving again. Getting Enjolras to San Sebastien was the only thing they could do for him now, and the only comfort Grantaire could find was in their forward progress.
Grantaire tried not to think about what would happen afterwards. He watched Enjolras closely as they rode, but he never stirred. When Felix stopped to check on him he only muttered under his breath. He never spoke of Enjolras's condition, and no one asked him.
They seldom spoke at all as they rode. There was nothing to say. The silence left Grantaire far too much time to think. He kept going over everything that had happened, trying to find the one thing he could have done that would have prevented all this. That it was his fault, he had no doubt. He had promised Enjolras to help him become king. He'd promised Vivien to protect her brother. Now Enjolras was hurt, maybe dying. Grantaire had failed -- who else could he blame?
Engrossed in his own morbid thoughts, Grantaire was the last to catch sight of the city of San Sebastien. As they rounded a bend in the road, the others stopped. He heard Raimi gasp in surprise, and he looked up.
Grantaire had traveled a great deal in his life, and he had visited San Sebastien before. It was an impressive city. Its clean, brick streets rotated like spokes on a wheel away from the center of the city -- Saint Sebastien's Cathedral. Even from here they could see the bell tower. The circle of divine unity that hung above the massive bells was made of solid gold; it winked brightly in the mid-day sun, a beacon for the faithful who flocked to the city. Even the city gates were impressive -- the largest in Cambrai, they were opened by a massive winch and pulley system that was powered by a team of horses.
Grantaire had seen all this before. But he had never seen San Sebastien during the Festival of Lights, and certainly not when a new king was being chosen. What astonished him now was not the city or its gates. It was the enormous crowd of people that thronged before them. There were hundreds of them, swarming like insects, their mingled voices a meaningless buzz. Most of them were on foot. Here and there mounted figures rode about; no doubt some of them were constables trying to keep order. Grantaire didn't envy them.
"Dear God," said Raimi. "How are we going to get through that? It's going to take us all day just to get inside the city."
"We don't have all day," said Felix. In fact, contenders for the crown had until nightfall to present themselves; but everyone knew that wasn't what he meant. Enjolras's condition wouldn't improve from staying out here all day. He needed a physician.
"I'll ride ahead," said Julien. "Surely they can spare some guards to escort us to the cathedral."
Grantaire nodded. "Good idea. We'll be behind you." They watched Julien ride off, then followed along at a slower pace. By the time they reached the edge of the crowd, Julien was nowhere to be seen. Only his horse tethered to a post proved he had come this way.
Andrei slid from the saddle and handed the reins to Raimi. "Wait here. I'll find him." The big man pushed his way into the crowd. Soon he, too was swallowed up by the sea of bodies.
Grantaire unhitched the litter so Felix could tend to Enjolras, and Raimi tethered the horses. After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Grantaire tried to keep an eye out for Julien and Andrei, but he was distracted by the astonishing variety of people gathered here. He saw a man clad in rich silks chatting with a giant in a blacksmith's apron. Neither one paid attention to the tiny, golden-haired girl who rode on the smithy's shoulders, eyes wide as she looked over the crowd. A group of merchants, tired of the wait, had pitched a tent and were passing around a flask of wine. Beside them, two old farmers argued over the back of a long-eared donkey. Grantaire's practiced eye spied quite a few men plying his own former trade. He had to admire the way one man cut his victim's purse and palmed the coins without even breaking stride. Then his gaze moved form the man's clever hands to his face -- a very familiar face.
"Eliot!"
Eliot whirled around, his eyes searching. They widened when he spotted Grantaire. He wove through the crowd as fast as he could and grabbed Grantaire by the shoulders.
"Grantaire! It is you. You did it. You made it to San Sebastien in time! I guess that makes you the proud new owner of Talley's Corner."

"Yeah," Grantaire said without enthusiasm. "I guess it does."
Eliot's brows furrowed in confusion. Then he noticed Raimi and Felix sitting beside Enjolras's stretcher. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"This is Father Felix and Enjolras's brother, Raimi D'Cheval. Eliot is a friend of mine from Savin."
Raimi stood and clasped Eliot's hand. Eliot bowed, remembering the court manners he'd supposedly inherited from his noble but nameless father.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord."
Felix frowned up at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Business. It's been marvelous since the festival started." He winked at Grantaire. "I brought Perry with me."
"Where is he?"
"In the crowd somewhere. They boy is learning very quickly." Hearing Felix grumble under his breath, Eliot changed the subject.
"I'm sorry to see that Sir Enjolras hasn't come through the journey unscathed. He's a hero in Savin, you know. Fletcher and Artus have not been missed. I do hope he'll recover quickly."
Raimi mumbled his thanks and looked away, unwilling to talk about his brother with a stranger. Grantaire smiled at Eliot, knowing he'd meant well.
"I hope so, too. He's been hurt before, but not like this."
"What happened?"
"Armand D'Essai happened. He and his pack of assassins ambushed us. I tried to help Enjolras, but I was too slow."
Eliot lifted an eyebrow. "I have never known you to be slow, Grantaire. Only much to demanding of yourself. Don't give up. After all, you've come to the city where the first miracle happened. This is not the place to lose faith."
Grantaire could tell by his expression that Raimi was comforted by Eliot's advice. Even Felix stared at the master pick-pocket with new respect.
"Considering your profession, you're very well acquainted with the doings of the saints."
Eliot bowed. "Saints are fascinating people. I may not enjoy their company, but I like to know what they've been up to."
They were interrupted before Felix had time to take offense. An eight-year-old boy came hurtling at them like a rock from a sling, stopping just inches away from Grantaire. He looked up at him, eyes bright.
"Grantaire, you're here!"
"Yes, Perry. I'm here." He lifted the boy off his feet and hugged him. Perry stared at him in surprise when he was put back down. Grantaire had always been fond of the kid, but he'd never shown it so openly before. He regretted that now.
"Hey, is that the knight?" Perry walked over to Enjolras's litter. "He don't look so good."
"Perry!" Eliot pulled him away. "That's not a nice thing to say."
Perry shrugged. "Sorry. What happened. Did you get in a fight? When did it happen? Was it Fletcher and Artus? Did you have to carry him the whole way here? Can he still be king? When are you coming back home?"
Grantaire didn't even try to untangle the mass of questions. Instead, he introduced Perry to Felix and Raimi. The boy's gaze passed over the priest without interest, but Raimi made him curious.
"What's it like being a knight? Can you heal people, too?"
To his credit, Raimi managed to keep a straight face. "I haven't been knighted yet and no, I can't heal people."
"Why not?"
"I'm not old enough."
"How old do you have to be to heal people?"
Grantaire left Perry occupied with interrogating Raimi and pulled Eliot aside. "How long have you been here?"
"Six days. Why do you ask?"
"Because we need to get Enjolras to the cathedral now. His brothers went to ask for help from the guards, but we haven't seen them since."
"I wouldn't trust any help the guards might offer. Most of them work for Nigel D'Brucie. A lot of the contenders have been disappearing much too conveniently, and no one seems to know why. Etienne D'Gare was killed yesterday, just outside the cathedral. The guards make a show of caring. They're not letting anyone inside the city walls with so much as a sling-shot, and they're practically undressing people at the gate to make sure of it. That's why it's taking so long. If you ask me, they're just making sure anyone they might want to murder before the ceremony won't be able to defend himself."
"Come on, Eliot. I know you. There's got to be a way in the guards don't know about. You've been here long enough to find it."
"Maybe." His gaze shifted to Enjolras. "But it's not a way I'd want to carry a litter through."
"Please, Eliot. Enjolras's life is at stake here. He means a lot to me. Tell me honestly -- can it be done?"
Eliot sighed. "Maybe we could, Grantaire. But are you sure you want to? The people who did this to him probably have friends inside who'd love a chance to finish the job."
"They'll have to go through me to get it. And Enjolras's brothers. Come on, Eliot. Don't you want to help our future king?"
"You do have a point. All right, I'll do it. But you have to talk Perry into staying here. I don't want him getting hurt."
"It's a deal." Grantaire stepped over to Raimi, who was looking a little frazzled from Perry's barrage of questions.
"Raimi, go find your brothers. Eliot knows a way past the gates. It's not exactly legal, but it may be Enjolras's best hope."
Raimi studied Eliot a moment. "Grantaire, I hope you forgive me for this question, but can this man be trusted?"
Grantaire shouldn't have been surprised by the question. Enjolras was Raimi's brother; they were asking him to put his life in the hands of a total stranger. Even Eliot didn't seem offended. Grantaire felt obligated to consider the question. did he trust Eliot? There was a time not so very long ago when he wouldn't have admitted to trusting anyone.
Enjolras had changed all that. He'd taught Grantaire to stop pushing people away. Grantaire had known Eliot for years. He had worked with him, gambled with him, and shared many a bottle with him. They had even looked after Perry together. In all that time, Eliot had never turned his back on him. Grantaire realized now that it wasn't weakness to trust him. It was common sense.
"Yes, Raimi. Eliot is my friend. You can trust him. I do."
Raimi nodded. "Eliot, my apologies." He turned on his heel and raced off in search of his brothers.
"What's going on?" Perry asked. "Are we gonna sneak inside?"

"Shh." Grantaire pulled Perry close to him and put a hand over his mouth. "Not so loud, kid."
Alarmed, Felix got to his feet and leaned close to Grantaire. "Sneak in? are you sure that's wise?"
"No. But I'm pretty sure it's our only choice. Eliot tells me the guards here can't be trusted. If we wait to go through the front gates, we're begging for trouble."
Perry pulled away from Grantaire's hand. "Don't worry. We know the way. Don't we, Eliot?"
"Yes indeed. We both do." Eliot cocked an eyebrow at Grantaire. Whatever he said to Perry would have to be good. There was no way they could stop the boy from following them.
"Uh, listen Perry, there's something I need you to do." Grantaire kneeled down at the boy's feet and waited until he had his full attention. "While the rest of us sneak the knight inside, I need you to wait in line to get through the gates."
"But, I--"
"Listen to me, Perry." Grantaire grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "This is very important. If we get in trouble, the only person who can help us is Enjolras's father. He's at the cathedral. We need you to find him for us. Find him and tell him where we are."
"But I want to go with you."
"I know. But you're the only one besides Eliot who knows the way we're going. We're counting on you, Perry. Can you do it?"
"All right. I won't let you down."
"Good boy."
when Raimi returned with his brothers, they explained the plan. Both Julien and Andrei agreed that sneaking in was the only choice. They gave Perry a signet ring and described the baron. Grantaire watched the kid scamper off with relief. No matter what happened, Perry would be safe. Sending him after the baron wasn't just a ruse either; if they hadn't reached the cathedral by the time Perry got there, they were going to need all the help they could get.

***

Grantaire exchanged a nervous glance with Felix as they followed Eliot through the crumbling tunnels. This place was far too reminiscent of the screechers' lair. He looked up, but the light of his torch revealed only worked stone. Here and there he could make out a series of runes or the likeness of some long-forgotten soul, but most of the details had been worn away.
"What is this place?"
"Escape tunnels," said Eliot. "The priests built them before the Unification. The cathedral was just a monastery then. I'm not sure which sect ran it."
Felix shook his head. "They needed a secret way out in case another sect overwhelmed them. Those were bloody days, before Saint Sebastien came to us."
"Will these tunnels take us right into the cathedral?" This question came from Andrei, who walked behind them, carrying the litter. Raimi helped him, while Julien limped along as rear guard.
"No," said Eliot. "Sections of the tunnels have collapsed, including the ones connecting to the cathedral. Fortunately, the priests were careful -- they built in several ways out. We have three left to choose from, and one is only four blocks away from the cathedral's front door."
"Four blocks is far enough," said Felix, "If D'Brucie's men are watching. If you found out about these tunnels, so could they."
"I did warn you that this would be dangerous."
"Maybe we should choose one of the other exits? One far away from the cathedral; less likely to be watched."
Grantaire shook his head. "We can't afford to risk running into a pack of D'Brucie's guards. Even the legitimate guards will arrest us if they see us carrying weapons in the city, and I don't want to drag Enjolras through the streets with nothing but knives to defend ourselves. The sooner we get to the cathedral, the better."
"The other exits are in the slums," Eliot added. "You can bet that even the guards don't spend much time there."
"Would D'Brucie have men there?" asked Felix.
"He doesn't need to. Folks in that part of town would kill you for the clothes on your back. Especially when some of them sport a baronial coat of arms, and the men who wear them are already wounded. We'd be a tempting target."
"Eliot's right. It's our only choice, and there's no point in discussing it any more. Let's just get this over with."
Grantaire hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but these tunnels made him nervous. He tried to listen for signs that they were being followed, but he could hear little besides their own shuffling feet. Somewhere in the distance water dripped, and occasionally a rat would scurry out of the shadows. Once, Grantaire though he heard the rustling of wings, and he made them stop. He listened for several heart-beats, while the others watched him curiously. Nothing stirred. Julien walked a few paced behind, holding up his torch and peering into the shadows.
"What is it?" Felix whispered.
"I thought I heard..." Grantaire stopped. He couldn't mention the screechers. "Well, never mind. It must have been a bird or a rat or something."
Julien came back and declared the tunnels behind them empty. they moved on. Grantaire noticed the others stopping and looking behind them more often. It was his fault -- he was imagining screechers everywhere. He shouldn't have said anything. They were edgy enough without inspiration from him.
The tunnels were quiet the rest of the way. Grantaire didn't hear or imagine any more unusual noises. He should have been relieved. There was a good chance D'Brucie didn't know about these tunnels. But Grantaire couldn't help wondering if the tunnels had been left unguarded because all of his men were watching the exits.
"Here it is," said Eliot. They'd come to a dead-end. The tunnel before them had collapsed into a heap of granite. A rusting chain dangled from the ceiling. Eliot yanked on it, pulling down the hidden stairs.
"When you get to the top, there's a panel that slides to your left. It's just wide enough to push the litter through.
"Where does it take us?"
"An abandoned building. It was a church once. The door to the tunnels must have been beneath the alter, but that's gone now."
"So anyone would be able to see us coming up?"
"Anyone inside the church. Part of the roof is gone, but the walls are still standing."
"Windows?"
"There's only one in the sanctuary. They'd have to be standing right night to it. It's mostly covered with ivy. The back rooms, if there were any, are gone now, so we won't have to worry about that."
"I don't like it," said Julien. "All D'Brucie has to do is fill the place with his paid assassins. It will be the bridge all over again."
Grantaire sighed. "I don't like it much either. But this time we're doing things my way. I'll go up alone. If anything happens, take Enjolras and run. Eliot will lead you back to the gates."
"We can't just leave you here to be killed." Felix shook his head. "And we can't run. Enjolras's condition is too delicate, and Julien can barely walk. No, Grantaire, we must stay together and pray that God will be with us."
Grantaire glared at Felix. He had to admit the priest was right. But he didn't have to like it. "You know, between you and Enjolras I haven't gotten my way once since we left Savin."
"That's not true, Grantaire. Enjolras asked you not to go with Armand. That was your idea, remember?"
"Yeah. Fat lot of good it did us."
"Can you two argue about this later?" Eliot slipped a dagger from the folds of his cloak and clutched it in his hand. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't like waiting."
"And I don't like leaving our weapons behind," said Raimi. He and Andrei had deposited the litter onto the tunnel floor. Felix knelt beside Enjolras, checking his bandage. "We should keep them. We can hide the swords in the litter with Enjolras after we leave the church. I know it's a risk if the guards search us, but it's better than being defenseless."
"He's right," said Julien. "Besides, if we run into guards who are working for D'Brucie, they'll do worse than arrest us."
"All right. We'll take the weapons." Grantaire unpacked his crossbow and cranked a shaft into place. He felt better having it in hand. If there were men waiting in ambush, at least one of them would regret it.
"Eliot, Raimi, follow me." He didn't like dragging the kid up there, but Raimi was the only one of Enjolras's brothers not hampered by injuries. "The rest of you wait here. Bring Enjolras up when you hear me whistle."
"And if you don't whistle?"
Grantaire looked sadly at Felix, wishing he had more comforting words to offer. "Then defend yourselves as best you can."
Felix nodded solemnly. "God be with you."
"I sure hope so." Grantaire turned and scrambled up the stairs. In one fluid motion he slid the door aside and hauled himself up. He jumped to his feet and lifted his crossbow, ready to fire. He was alone. He could see nothing in the church but dust and cobwebs, sparkling like silk in the sunlight that poured through a gaping hole in the roof. He heard Raimi on the stairs behind him and stepped out of the way. Raimi and Eliot scurried up, weapons drawn.

"It's empty," said Raimi. With naked steel in his hand and a sober expression on his face, he looked more than ever like Enjolras. Grantaire hoped he could fight half as well.
"Don't be so sure," said Eliot, moving over to the door. It leaned on one hinge, allowing him to peer through a narrow opening. "I don't see anyone in the street."
Grantaire motioned Raimi to the window and stepped closer to the hole in the roof. Looking up, he saw nothing but clouds and blue sky. He stayed there, aiming his crossbow. An attack from above would be hard to defend against.
"The alley is empty," said Raimi.
Grantaire flinched and almost fired when a shadow passed overhead, but it was only a crow. It cawed, mocking him.
"Eliot, come watch the roof. I'm going to check around the building."
Eliot hurried over. Grantaire handed him the crossbow and went to the door. He opened it just wide enough to slip through, wincing as the hinge squeaked in protest. Outside, the street was empty. A crow cawed. All else was silent. Grantaire looked at the buildings across the way. They were little more than huts, but he could see evidence of recent repairs -- a thatched roof here, carefully hung curtains there. People still lived on this street. Why was it so quiet? Grantaire slipped a dagger into one hand and palmed a throwing knife in the other. He started step away from the building to check the roof; he barely turned around in time to see the man leap at him. Grantaire backed up, hurling his knife. The blade sank into his attacker's chest. He hit the ground at Grantaire's feet, scaring up dust from the road.
Someone screamed inside. Grantaire heard the snap of breaking timbers. He pushed the door aside and ran in. One man lay still beneath a pile of rubble -- the decaying roof had betrayed him. Another lay against the wall, clutching a crossbow bolt in his side. Eliot twirled a knife in his hand and circled a big man with a sword, while Raimi defended himself against four knife-wielding assassins. The kid swung his sword like a master, but he was badly outnumbered. Grantaire started to go to his aid when he heard shouting from the tunnel below. There were more assassins, and they'd gone after Enjolras.
But how many more? Torn between Raimi's obvious need and fear for his friends, Grantaire hesitated. Then Raimi screamed. One of the assassins had sunk a dagger hilt deep into his shoulder. Raimi dropped his sword and staggered.
His decision made for him, Grantaire ran up and stabbed the culprit in the back. The man froze, shocked. Grantaire stabbed him again and pushed him to the floor. He saw Raimi duck another blow and snatch up his sword with his left hand. Blood pumped form his shoulder. Grantaire didn't know how the kid was still standing. Raimi aimed a wide sweep at the remaining assassins and they backed up, looking from him to Grantaire. It wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking; all they had to do was wait for Raimi to lose a little more blood and the odds would be three to one.
Then Grantaire heard a scream from behind him. He moved to defend himself, but it was Eliot who appeared beside him, grinning wickedly.
"I believe the odds are even, gentlemen. Shall we dance?" His hand shot out, launching a knife. It buried itself in an assassin's throat. Eyes wide, the man sank to the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
The remaining two charged. One tackled Raimi and pulled him to the ground. The other came at Grantaire. He dodged the slashing dagger. From the corner of his eye he saw Eliot kick the other one in the kidneys. He groaned and rolled away from Raimi. The kid wasn't moving.
Grantaire felt sick. If anything happened to Enjolras's little brother, he'd never forgive himself. He aimed a furious slash at his opponent, but he only ripped his sleeve. Anger must have made him careless. The assassin ducked under his guard and scored a deep cut along Grantaire's ribs. Grantaire backed away, sucking in his breath. The assassin grinned at him.
Beside him, Eliot failed to dodge a low sweep from his opponent's dagger. The blade scored a shallow cut along his calf. The assassin kicked the wound. Eliot screamed and fell.
The other assassin took advantage of Grantaire's distraction to press his attack. He wasn't so lucky this time. Grantaire ducked the blade slashing at his head and stabbed the man in the gut. He kicked him away and turned to Eliot, hoping he wasn't too late.
Eliot lay stunned from a kick in the head, helpless before the man who raised his knife above him. Then a rapier came flying through the air, spinning blade over hilt. It righted itself just in time to impale Eliot's would-be killer like a boar on a spit. He fell back against the wall, dead.
Grantaire turned to see Andrei standing beside the trap door. He seemed unhurt. Grantaire helped Eliot to his feet. They heard shouting from the street. The door clattered onto the floor, its last hinge finally giving out. Grantaire's heart sank. They couldn't possibly fight off another attack. Wearily he hefted his dagger and turned to face the door.
Guards stood before him with drawn rapiers. But these were not city guards. Their white tunics sported the circle of divine unity; they were the Archbishop's personal guard. Grantaire stared in amazement. He could see dozens more in the street, fighting with other assassins. Bodies already littered the ground, and none of them wore white.
The guards at the door stepped aside to make room for someone to enter -- Baron Pierre D'Cheval. He took in the scene at a glance.
"My God, Raimi."
As the baron rushed over to his youngest son, Andrei leaned over the trap door and screamed for Felix. Grantaire stepped up behind the baron, wishing he knew what to say.
"I'm sorry. They're all hurt. All four of them." He swayed dizzily. Eliot caught him and eased him to the floor.
"Take it easy. You're bleeding."
The cut along his ribs did hurt. But he couldn't worry about that now. He watched Felix tend to Raimi while the Archbishop's guards fetched Enjolras from the tunnel. It wasn't until Felix assured him that the kid's wounds weren't life-threatening that Grantaire let his own cut be bound. By the time Felix was done, the guards had disposed of the assassins outside and brought up the stretcher. They ushered everyone into the street. The bodies had been dragged aside, and carriages awaited.
"Eliot," said Grantaire, "remind me to give Perry a big reward for this."
"Don't worry. I will."

***

The crowd lining the steps of the cathedral was even more enormous than the one at the front gate. Fortunately, the Archbishop's guards were more adept at keeping order. People pointed and waved as they rode up, but no one approached the carriages.
A hush fell as Enjolras's litter was brought out. No doubt these people had been watching candidates arrive all day. They weren't expecting one to be carried in. Grantaire watched expressions change from curiosity to pity and confusion. Shaking his head, Grantaire followed the others up the steps. These people didn't know it, but the man who passed before them would be their king, if only he were strong enough.
Grantaire followed along blindly until he realized the guards had brought them to the infirmary. They carried Enjolras and Raimi to empty beds and called for a physician.
"What are you doing?" Grantaire grabbed one of the guards by the sleeve and turned him around. "We need to see the Archbishop now. Sir Enjolras is a contender for the throne."
"But, he's dying."
Grantaire wanted to punch him, but it seemed a shabby way to treat someone who'd just saved his life. "He's not dying! He's going to live. He's going to be our king."
"Take it easy, son." The baron stepped up and put a hand on Grantaire's shoulder. "You and I will go speak to the Archbishop. I'm sure he'll be willing to meet Enjolras here."
"But..."
"Relax, Grantaire. Your journey is over. You succeeded. You and Enjolras made it to San Sebastien in time. Now, let's go talk to Archbishop D'Rabican."
Grantaire allowed himself to be ushered out of the infirmary. The baron was right -- there was no reason to drag Enjolras around the cathedral. They done what was required of them. The rest was only formality.
Grantaire and the baron followed the guards down a long hallway adorned with painting of the saints. It opened onto the sanctuary, an enormous, circular room filled with row upon row of cushioned pews. Stained glass angels surrounded them, heads bowed and wings unfurled.
Noblemen and ladies filled the pews and stood in the aisles. All of them watched the altar, where a powerfully built man in red and black knelt before the Archbishop. The man spoke in a booming voice that carried across the sanctuary.
"I, Nigel D'Brucie, declare myself as a contender for the throne of Cambrai."
There was grumbling among the assembled nobles. Apparently, the baron of Brucie was not well loved by his peers.
The Archbishop raised his hands for silence. Despite his worry, Grantaire could not help but stare at the man in admiration. He was a tall man, with silver hair and dark eyes. He wore rich robes of gold and ivory. But the calm strength that Grantaire felt from him had nothing to do with his grand appearance. Here was a man at peace with himself and with God; a man who never had cause to doubt himself. Grantaire understood now why the barons would choose this man to decide the fate of the kingdom.
"Nigel D'Brucie, you are accepted as a contender for the throne of Cambrai. May God watch over you."
D'Brucie stood and bowed to the Archbishop, then to the assembly. He strutted down the alter like an actor from the stage. Grantaire wanted to kill him.
"Come." The baron grabbed Grantaire's arm and pulled him down the center aisle. The seated nobles stared up at them. Grantaire looked down at his torn, blood-stained clothes; they were probably wondering what this beggar was doing in the cathedral with the baron of Cheval.
They stopped behind a young dandy with a dark-haired lady on his arm. They looked at Grantaire and took a few steps forward.

"Um, maybe you should do this, sir. You're Enjolras's father. I don't really need to be here."
"You're Enjolras's friend, and his chosen companion. You must be here. I, on the other hand, should go find my wife and daughter. They'll be worried sick."
"Wait!" Grantaire clutched at the baron's arm. "Don't leave me. I mean, I don't know what to do."
The baron peeled Grantaire's fingers from his sleeve. "It's simple. Tell him your name, and don't forget to use that title I gave you. Then ask him to come see Enjolras in the infirmary. Now, if you don't mind, I must tend to my family."
Grantaire watched him go, feeling abandoned. He knew he was being selfish. Enjolras was hurt, and he needed his father. But did they have to leave him completely alone? Then he spotted a small figure waving at him from the edge of the crowd. It was Perry, standing next to Eliot. They must have used their new-found connection with the baron to get in. Grantaire smiled when he realized the noblemen had moved aside, giving his ragged-looking friends a wide berth.
The pair in front of him stepped up to the altar. Grantaire watched the dandy declare himself and depart with a flamboyant bow. Grantaire's stomach twisted when the Archbishop's gaze fell on him. He knew he shouldn't be so nervous, but he wasn't used to being watched by so many people; a few guards maybe, but not this crowd. He stumbled up the stairs to the altar and kneeled.
The Archbishop smiled at him. "My son, your name?"
"Oh. It's Sir Grantaire Matrice."
"Grantaire Matrice, we accept you as a contender for the throne of Cambrai."
"No!" Grantaire leaped to his feet, forcing the surprised Archbishop to back away from him. "I'm sorry. It's my friend, Sir Enjolras. He's in the infirmary. Can you accept him as a contender?"
"Certainly. I will come see him as soon as I may. Go with God, my son."
"Thank you." He turned and practically ran down the aisle. Eliot and Perry were waiting for him.
Eliot shook his head, laughing. "You certainly bungled that, my friend. And when did you become Sir Grantaire?"
"Oh, Enjolras's father knighted me. He was trying to be nice."
"You're kidding."
"Oh, knock it off, Eliot. It's not funny."
Perry tugged at his cloak. "Grantaire, did I do good? I found the baron."
"You did great!" Grantaire grabbed the kid and hugged him. "You saved our lives, Perry. Hey, how would you like to be my squire?"
"Really? What do I have to do? Can I have a sword?"
"Uh, we'll figure that out later. Come on, let's go see how Enjolras is doing."
The physicians had demanded some time alone with their patients, forcing the rest of the family to wait outside. Grantaire found them in the parlor, all of them pacing and looking worried except for Julien, who sat with his leg propped up on a stool. Grantaire couldn't even look at Vivien. Her ring was a cold weight against his chest.
"What did the physicians say?"
The baron shook his head. "Raimi will be fine. He's sleeping. But Enjolras... Enjolras needs a miracle."
"We mustn't lose hope," said Felix. "We mustn't forget who he is. Or where we are."
"Felix is right." Grantaire looked up to see Vivien staring at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. There's something I have to do."
He turned and fled back down the hallway. He found himself standing among the portraits of the saints, looking up at the beautiful face of Alexandre. Enjolras had told him once that Alexandre was the patron saint of healing. He believed his gift came from Alexandre and always asked his blessing whenever he attempted to heal someone. Grantaire looked up at the portrait of that illustrious saint, who stood before him with hands outstretched, as if asking him to come and tell his sorrows. Trembling, he looked up at the saint's eyes. They were just like Enjolras's -- deep blue and full of wisdom. Grantaire looked into them, seeing not the clever brush strokes of the artist, but compassion and understanding. Silently, he begged Saint Alexandre, and God if he was listening, to spare Enjolras's life.
He was still standing there when Vivien came for him. Grantaire kept staring at the painting as she stopped closer to him. He couldn't look at her.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I guess I have. I'm sorry." Grantaire pulled the chain over his head and held it out to Vivien. The ring swung between them like a pendulum. "I guess you'll be wanting this back."
Vivien stared at the ring as if a venomous snake had wrapped its coils around the band. "What do you mean? Don't you want it?"
Grantaire finally did look at her. She was crying. "Vivien, I failed you. I promised to protect your brother, and look what happened. I practically got your whole family killed.
"Is that why you don't want the ring?"

"I don't deserve it."
"Oh, Grantaire." Vivien took his hand and turned it over, palm up. She pressed the ring into his palm and closed his fingers around it. "I gave you this ring as a token of my friendship. I want you to keep it."
"Even after... Vivien, Enjolras could be dying. I don't know how I could live with that."

"Grantaire, it's not your fault. You did everything you could to look after him. Father Felix told me how brave you've been." She brushed a hand against his cheek. "Enjolras couldn't have asked for a better friend."
Grantaire looked at her. She was smiling, though her cheeks were still wet with tears. He caught her hand as she pulled it away and kissed it.
Vivien tensed suddenly and stepped back. Grantaire started to apologize when he realized she was looking behind him. He turned around to find himself face to face with Baron Nigel D'Brucie.
"What are you doing here?"
"I've come to pay my respects to the newest candidate. It's only proper. But then, I guess you haven't had time to learn court manners, Sir Grantaire." Smiling, he bowed low to Vivien. "My dear, you look lovely today. Such a becoming blush to your cheeks."
He reached for Vivien's hand, but Grantaire stepped between them. "Lady Vivien doesn't care for your court manners, and Sir Enjolras doesn't want your respects."
"Oh, but I was referring to you, Sir Grantaire. You are the newest candidate for the throne."
"That was a mistake."
"Indeed it was." He took a step forward, eyes narrowed. "It will be an even bigger mistake to let Enjolras see the Archbishop. I promise you, if he takes the throne, he won't live long enough to get an heir. That is, assuming he can find a woman who's willing to give him one."
Grantaire's knuckles stung when they connected with D'Brucie's jaw. The baron lunged at Grantaire, but this time it was Vivien who stepped between them.
"My lords, please. You forget yourselves. We are in a house of God. Must I fetch the Archbishop's guards?"
The baron sneered. "Protecting your lover, Vivien? How sweet."
Grantaire tried for D'Brucie's throat. But Vivien wouldn't get out of the way. She gave him a stern look.
"Grantaire, behave yourself. You are under no obligation to defend my honor." She turned and slapped the baron in the face. "Stay away from me. Stay way from my family. If you ever set foot in Cheval, I will have you killed. Come along, Grantaire."
Vivien circled her arm in his and propelled them both down the hallway. Grantaire watched her stern expression, amazed that she should be so volatile.
"Did you really mean that? Would you really have him killed?"
"Of course not, Grantaire. That would be reprehensible." She stopped suddenly. She was looking at the floor. Grantaire could tell she was blushing.
"Vivien, what's wrong?"
"I don't want you to think... I know I told you it wasn't your obligation, but it was sweet of you. To protect me, I mean."
"You're welcome." Grantaire suddenly wanted to give her something. But what was he supposed to offer her -- a drink at Talley's Corner? Then he remembered the one precious thing he owned. He fished the comb out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She stared at the delicate thing in her hand, eyes wide. "Oh, Grantaire. It's lovely." She threw her arms around him. Grantaire winced as the movement hurt his ribs. Then Vivien pressed her lips against his, a soft and fleeting touch before she pulled herself away and his arms were empty again.
"We should go see my brother. That's why I really came for you. I mean... Oh, come on." She turned and bustled down the hallway. Grantaire followed along behind her, confused.
The Archbishop was kneeling beside Enjolras's bed when they walked into the infirmary. Grantaire froze in his tracks. Was Enjolras dying? Surely Vivien would have told him. He look at Felix, and at Enjolras's family standing around the bed. Raimi stood beside his mother, his arm in a sling. Even Eliot and Perry were there. Had they come here to bid Enjolras good-bye?
The Archbishop got to his feet. He saw Grantaire and smiled. "Sir Grantaire, come in. Your friend has something to say to you."
"Say?" Grantaire stepped up to the bed and stared at Enjolras in disbelief. His eyes were open, and he was smiling.
"You're awake!"
"Yes, Grantaire." His voice was weak, but Grantaire had heard it like that before.
"He's going to be all right," said Felix.

"Thank God."
"Indeed," said the Archbishop. "It seems we have been graced with yet another miracle."
"Grantaire," said Enjolras, "there's something I have to tell you."
"What is it?"
"It's about the Archbishop's decision."
"What do you mean?" Grantaire turned to face the high priest. "You are choosing him, aren't you?"
"No, my son."
"What? No? How can you not choose him? He heals people. He sees vision. He's the most honest man I've ever met. How can anyone be better than that?"
The Archbishop put a comforting hand on Grantaire's shoulder. "My son, Enjolras has accepted that it is not his place to be Cambrai's first king. You must accept that as well."
"No. Enjolras, tell him. You had a vision. You're supposed to be king."
Enjolras held out a hand. "Grantaire, come here."
Reluctantly, Grantaire knelt down beside his friend and took his hand. He felt like crying.
"There's something I must tell you. When we met, I told you that I had seen Cambrai's king in a vision. I never said I was that king."
"Yes, you did."
"No, Grantaire. You are the man I saw in that vision."
"What?" Grantaire dropped Enjolras's hand and stood to face the Archbishop. "Tell him he's wrong."
"But he's not, my son. You are the man God has chosen to rule Cambrai."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Grantaire looked around, but no one was laughing. No one looked surprised. "Did you all know about this?"
"No." Eliot chuckled. "But I wish I had. It's awfully funny."
The baron silenced him with a stern look. "Enjolras told me when you came to Cheval, Grantaire. But the others just found out. Enjolras just told us."
"I don't understand."
The Archbishop gave him a sympathetic look. "I announce my decision just after dusk. Perhaps you two should take some time to talk." He bowed and left them.
"He's right. You need to be alone." The baroness kissed him on the cheek. "Come along, everyone."
they all left. Vivien squeezed Grantaire's hand in passing. He heard the door shut and looked won at Enjolras. He couldn't believe this was happening.
"You lied to me."
"I'm sorry, Grantaire. Truly, I am. But you had so little faith in yourself when I first met you. If I would have told you the truth then, you would have walked away from me. You would never have let me bring you here. You wouldn't have allowed me to protect you."
"So you made a target of yourself for my sake."
"Yes, Grantaire."
"Damn it, Enjolras. How could you do this to me? I didn't want this. What's to stop me from turning around and going back to Talley's Corner right now?"
"Knowing that the barons will choose Nigel D'Brucie in your place."
"They don't like him."
"But they fear him."
"Why is that my responsibility? Enjolras, how can you expect me to accept this? I'm nothing. Nobody. I'm a thief who never even knew his father. I can't be king."
"Grantaire, listen to me. I misled you about my vision. But I swear to you, I have been honest in all else. I'm your friend, and I know you as you really are. I love you, and I admire you. You will be the greatest king this world has ever known."
"But I don't know how."
"You will learn. And you won't be alone. Felix and I will be by your side, always. As we were meant to be. Please, Grantaire, can you accept this?"
"I guess I have to."
Enjolras smiled. "You will not regret this my, friend."
Grantaire clasped Enjolras's hand and left. The others were outside, waiting for him. "Well, Felix, do you think you could help me get ready for another ceremony?"
"I wouldn't miss it."

---

Epilogue