Thief By Knight

CHAPTER NINE

Their spirits had been lifted by the time spent with Enjolras's family, but they began to sink as they rode deeper into Essai. Grantaire watched Enjolras riding ahead of him, distracted and brooding. He didn't need to guess where his friend's thoughts were. Deciding it would be kindness to leave Enjolras alone for a while, Grantaire tried to amuse himself by baiting Felix. He looked over to where the priest sat hunched in the saddle, showing no more energy than the bags that bounced beside him.
"Felix, I can see hunting down bandits really excites you. Ready to give up the priest-hood and make a go of it?"
Felix frowned at him from beneath his hood.
"What do you say? After Enjolras becomes king, the two of us can team up as bandit hunters. Don't worry about money -- we can live off my rents. I think."
The priest's frown deepened. "I think this foul weather has addled your wits." He kicked his gelding, which obligingly managed a trot that carried him away from Grantaire.
"Foul weather?" Grantaire looked up at the blue and cloudless sky. It was a sunny day cooled to crisp perfection by a cool, autumn breeze. He persuaded his mare to catch up to Felix.
"You know, the only thing foul around here is your mood. What's wrong with you? You haven't said a word ever since we left Cheval."
"There's nothing wrong with me. Unlike some others, I appreciate the value of silence." Felix pulled away from him again, and this time Grantaire didn't try to catch up. He knew there was something wrong, and he had a feeling it was serious. Felix had never been this cranky. But the priest obviously didn't want to talk about it. At least, not to him. Thinking Enjolras might have more luck, he mentioned to him when they stopped to water the horses, Felix having wandered off to relieve himself.
"Enjolras, I need to talk to you." The mare tossed her head, spraying them with wet drops from her muzzle. He shivered and glared at the beast.
"Yes, I agree," Enjolras said. "We need to talk."
"Oh, good. You've noticed it, too."
"Vivien is a very special girl, don't you think?"
Grantaire was startled by the sudden change in subject. It was natural for Enjolras to be preoccupied with thoughts of his family, but they were supposed to be talking about Felix.
"Well, yes," he managed, wondering where this was leading. "Your family is very nice, Enjolras. I really like them."
Enjolras nodded thoughtfully. "Vivien is very young, Grantaire. I don't believe that she is ready for marriage."
"Marriage? I don't understand. Is she engaged?"
Enjolras turned to him, and for a moment Grantaire could have sworn he was angry. His usual calm expression resurfaced before Grantaire could be sure it hadn't been a trick of the light.
"I was referring to what happened in the chapel, Grantaire. Vivien is very affectionate, but well..."
"I can't believe it. I can't believe you've been worrying about this all day. Enjolras, Vivien kissed me -- on the cheek, I might add -- because she was grateful. That's all. Hell, she kissed Felix, too."
"Why was she grateful?"
Enjolras sounded suspicious. It was ridiculous, but Grantaire didn't know how to answer him. He was reluctant to tell him the real reason. Enjolras would probably find it laughable that Grantaire was sworn to protect him.
"Look, I like your family, Enjolras. Who wouldn't? They're a lot more fun than you are. I can't help it if they like me back. It's not my fault they're so friendly -- every single one of them hugged me while we were there."
Enjolras studied him with narrowed eyes. "You're avoiding my question. If you have something to tell me..."
"God damn it, Enjolras!" An owl screeched nearby, as if condemning his sudden burst of anger. "I would never even dream about a girl like Vivien. You don't have to tell me I'm not good enough for her. I've done things she's only seen in her nightmares."
Enjolras gave him a curious look. Grantaire wasn't about to share the details. He shouldn't have said anything. Frustrated, he grabbed his mare's reins and tugged at them, trying to pull her away from the water. He didn't know why he was getting so upset, but he needed to get away from here.
"Grantaire..."
He heard the note of warning, but he ignored it. He just couldn't deal with Enjolras right now. He tugged at the reins again. The sudden, crushing pain in his hand choked a scream from him. He whirled around to see his fingers in the mare's mouth. The beast had bitten off his fingers!
"You bitch!"
Grantaire made a fist, ready to punch the equine monster in the snout. Enjolras stepped between them, muttering soothing nonsense to the animal. Grantaire felt the pressure lessen and jerked his hand to him. The fingers were still there. They were torn and bleeding, but they were there. Pain throbbed through them like a heart-beat.
"I hate that animal."
"You need to be more gentle with her, Grantaire. Horses don't respond well to brute force. Now come here. Let me see your hand."
Shaking his head, he cradled his swelling hand in his arm and stepped away. He didn't want to be healed right now.
"Just leave me alone," he snapped. Enjolras stared at him in surprise as he turned and marched further downstream, passing the small camp fire where Felix could still be heard muttering about his sore feet. When he was finally alone, he sat down hard against a sturdy tree to nurse his wound and his pride.
He knew he was being stubborn. The damn horse had probably broken some bones, and he should let Enjolras take care of it. But Grantaire couldn't bear his company right now. His brotherly over-protectiveness was getting insulting. Did he think Grantaire had so little control over himself that Vivien wasn't safe around him?
He heard the distant cry of a screecher, and the rustling of some small animal sneaking through the grass. He suddenly felt very foolish, sitting here alone in the night, holding his injured hand and feeling sorry for himself. But it seemed like a night for foolish behavior. Enjolras was a bigger fool for worrying about him and Vivien. Why would someone like her be interested in him?
Grantaire shook his head. He didn't want to think about this. The only thing between him and Vivien was his promise to keep Enjolras safe. No matter how hard Enjolras made it, he was going to keep that promise.

***

There were times when Grantaire believed most promises were made to be, if not broken, then at least regretted. The argument over Vivien had dissipated quickly with a sincere apology from Enjolras. He'd even healed his injured hand that night while he was sleeping -- an unexpectedly sneaky tactic for which Grantaire refused to admit his gratitude. Felix was a miserable companion for the next three days, speaking only to complain about the weather and make insulting remarks about Grantaire, as if the friendship they'd begun in Cheval had never happened. He refused to tell anyone what was bothering him, and even the ever-patient Enjolras had given up trying to find out. Instead, Grantaire and Enjolras spent the time chatting amiably, as if the argument over Vivien had never happened.
The peaceful interlude ended when they came to Aureville. At Grantaire's urging, they had avoided contact with the few settlements they had passed; Armand or the surviving bandits could be anywhere, and there was no use risking the exposure. Enjolras insisted they had to buy supplies at Aureville before heading into the foot-hills. Grantaire agreed. They were running out of food for themselves and the horses, and the mare had thrown a shoe and needed the attention of a smithy. What he objected to was Enjolras's idea that he ride into town alone.
"No way. You're not going alone. Let me ride in -- I'll be back for supplies before you even have time to miss me."
Felix snorted. "That would take a long time, indeed."
Enjolras slanted the priest an irritated glance, but he said nothing.
"No, Grantaire. It's not safe for you. I realize it's not likely, but it is possible that Armand or one of the other bandits who escaped might be in Aureville. They would certainly recognize you if they saw you."
"And they wouldn't recognize you? I hate to tell you this, Enjolras, but you're not exactly inconspicuous. Believe me, they're going to remember the big knight who ran around chopping off the heads of their former comrades. Hell, they probably have nightmares about you."
"Grantaire, you're embellishing. I didn't chop off any heads."
"Well, maybe not, but the results were the same. And quite memorable. You know, the only one of us they wouldn't remember is Felix. He's very forgettable."
He expected an angry retort, but the priest only stared at him with a pale, frightened expression. Why was he so nervous?
"Grantaire, we can't put Felix at risk like that. He's a priest."
"I don't know what that has to do with anything." He waved a hand to forestall Enjolras's explanation. "It doesn't matter. I have to go, Enjolras. It's the only solution. Don't worry -- I can keep a low profile. I've been doing it for years."
"I'll come with you."
"You attract to much attention, and you know it."
Enjolras sighed, frustrated. Stubborn as he was, he couldn't argue with Grantaire's logic. Grantaire smirked at him. It felt good to win an argument for a change.
"Very well," Enjolras consented. "But only you both promise to be careful."
"Both?"
"Yes. Felix is going with you."
"But I don't want to go."
"I thought you said we couldn't risk him."
They voiced their objections in unison. Felix obviously didn't want to go to Aureville, and Grantaire didn't particularly want his company. Not when he was in such an irritable mood.
"You two can look out for each other," Enjolras insisted. "You really need to learn to get along. I'll wait for you here."
His tone left no room for argument. Grantaire and Felix exchanged glares. In silence, they collected their mounts and rode into Aureville. Grantaire glanced back once to see Enjolras watching them, one hand absently stroking Ganelon's muzzle. Remembering his promise to Vivien, he felt a twinge of anxiety at leaving Enjolras alone. Well, Enjolras was perfectly capable of fending for himself. Grantaire would see to it they weren't gone long; they only needed a few supplies. Maybe while they were at it he could find out what was wrong with Felix.
Grantaire dumped the sullen mare on the smithy's hands, along with a warning that she was inclined to bite. He started to relax as he and Felix wandered around the little mining town, shopping for the supplies they needed. The breeze had picked up, tossing brightly colored leaves through the air. More leaves skittered along the street, dancing past their toes and getting caught underfoot.
Two little boys ran by, hatless and shoeless, their clothes well sprinkled with fresh dirt. Grantaire turned to watch them weave through the traffic on the streets, the smaller one pausing to grab a stray leaf that caught his fancy.
"Damn foolish way to behave," Felix muttered. "Where are their parents? Warm by the fire, no doubt, while their children catch their death of cold."
Grantaire scowled at the priest. He was getting tired of Felix's surly comments, especially when they were directed at a couple of harmless kids.
"Felix, what is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem. It's cold, that's all. Let's just get what we need and get out of here."
"It's not that cold, Felix. I know -- you're just anxious to go bandit hunting."
Felix didn't answer. He just hugged himself tighter against the cold and hurried along the street. He'd pulled his hooded cloak tightly around him, and he kept his gaze directed squarely at his feet. It was as if he was afraid to look anyone in the eye.
It was then Grantaire realized what must be troubling Felix. The priest had said himself he had something to feel ashamed of, and Grantaire could well imagine his own reaction if he were forced to go back to that farm house from long ago.
"Felix, when have you been here before?"
The priest's head jerked up, his eyes round with surprise. "How do you know that? Did Enjolras tell you?"
"Of course he didn't, Felix. I'm just very clever. I can tell something bothers you about this place. It seems like a nice little, town to me."
"I'm sure it is. You're mistaken. I've never been here."
Grantaire was a little hurt that Felix would lie to him. But he said nothing more as they finished their shopping. He was convinced something had happened to Felix here, something he didn't like to think about, much less discuss. If he didn't want to talk about it, Grantaire wasn't going to make him.

Grantaire was exhausted by the time they made it back to the smithy. The pleasant breeze had turned chill, and the sack of feed slung over his shoulder weighed heavily on his cold and weary bones. He stumbled into the dry stables, sighing with relief as he threw his burden to the hay-strewn floor.
When he heard Felix's gasp of surprise, he knew he'd made a serious mistake. He looked up, reaching for his dagger. It must be Armand, or one of his followers.
But the armed men surrounding them were all strangers, wearing the blue and gold tunics of the local constabulary. One of the constables, a tall, gray-haired man with a drooping mustache stepped forward with a meaningful glance at Grantaire's dagger. Grantaire knew when he was outnumbered. He tossed it to the ground.
The man turned to Felix. "You had a lot of nerve coming back here, priest. Did you think we would have forgotten?"
Grantaire looked at Felix. What the hell was going on here? Felix stood still, staring at the man with a mixture of fear and guilt. He was trembling.
The man gave a sharp nod to his men. "Arrest them both."

***

The laughter erupted again, loud and cackling at first, then slowly fading into a wheezy chuckle that set Grantaire's teeth on edge. He kicked the iron bars of their cell in the direction of their maniacal neighbor, some other unfortunate soul who sat in another dark cell. He supposed he should be grateful they weren't sharing their little cage with him. He should be grateful they had some light from the tiny window high above them. He should be grateful, too that they weren't chained. If Enjolras were here he'd probably explain some reason why some long dead saint thought they should be grateful that they could still pace back and forth the entire eight-foot length of their cell, which stank so badly of stale urine and vomit that Grantaire couldn't bear to sit down in it. He realized he was grateful Enjolras wasn't here. He might have to hit him after a comment like that.
Damn it, this was all the priest's fault. He stopped pacing and whirled around to glare down at Felix. He huddled in the corner of the cell, his knees drawn up before him, hugging himself against the cold. The temperature had dropped since the sun had set, promising the first autumn frost. By this time Grantaire had usually found a town to winter in, some place where his thieving talents weren't so well known.
"I spent eighteen years in the company of thieves. You know how many times I got thrown in a cell like this? None, Felix. Absolutely none. I've been with you and Enjolras for a month. And look where I am now. I should have stuck with the thieves -- I was better off."
Felix said nothing. He just sat there, with no more life in him than the sack of feed they'd left in the stables. Grantaire controlled a perverse need to kick him, just to get a response. Their neighbor began laughing again, this time a brief, high-pitched giggle. Grantaire had been assuming they were the same person, but it occurred to him now that there might be two. Two mindless slobs sharing the same cell, laughing hysterically at each other. What a thought. Was that what was in store for him and Felix?
"Damn it, Felix, I think I deserve an answer. It's your fault we're in this mess. Why didn't you tell us you were wanted in Aureville? What the hell did you do anyway?"
The priest looked up at him finally. Grantaire was surprised to see tears in his eyes. Feeling a little guilty, he sat down beside him. The stone floor was cold and damp beneath him; he tried not to think about the cause of it.
"Felix, what's going on here?"
"My execution, it would seem. I have earned it."
"How?"
"It's a long story. I don't know..."
"Felix, we're not going anywhere any time soon. And if this story has anything to do with why we're both stuck here, I think I deserve to hear it."
"You're right. I suppose it can't hurt to tell you now." Felix took a deep breath, preparing himself. "Years ago, before I entered the monastery, I was a priest here in Aureville. One of three, actually, serving the people as best we could. The mining was at its peak then, and it was a bigger town. We were needed.
"I was young then, almost as young as Enjolras is now. And I was every bit as idealistic. I thought I could make a difference, that I could make the world a better place. But what Enjolras knows despite his amazing gifts is a sense of humility. I have never heard him brag about his abilities, not once. He gives God all the credit, you see. It's what we're supposed to do. It's what I claimed then. I had been praised so often for my wisdom, my insight. It was uncanny, they said, for one so young."
Felix chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "Uncanny. I can't imagine what they would have said of Enjolras. There was nothing miraculous about my gifts. I was simply a fairly clever young priest with a talent for understanding people. I was good at solving their problems. They would come to me with their grief, with troubled marriages, with children bent on rebellion. With God's help, it seemed I always knew what to say to help them. That was fine, as far as it went. It was my reason for being there. But I grew arrogant, in time. I forgot about God's help all together, and I began to think I could solve anyone's problems, no matter how terrible.
"One day, a young woman came to me. She was a beautiful girl, kind and gentle despite her privileges, for her father was a wealthy man who owned the mines here in Aureville. She was much like Enjolras's sister, Vivien."
Grantaire flinched at the name, but Felix didn't notice. His eyes were distant and unfocused as he relived the past.
"This girl, her name was Julita, was desperately afraid. She came to me weeping. She was with child, and unmarried. The babe's father was a nobleman -- she wouldn't give his name. Her father would disown her, she said, and how could she raise a child alone? I had seen this girl's problem so many times before. I told her the only solution I knew, certainly the only one the church would approve. She must tell the father about her child, and they must be married. It was a sin, I told her, to do anything else.
"She was heart-broken when I told her this. Oh, I'd gotten her to stop crying; she seemed calm enough. But my advice troubled her deeply -- I could see it in her eyes. They were so sad and frightened. I thought it was just the difficulty of the task that troubled her. I told her it would be all right, that the father must do the right thing. A nobleman could do no less, not if he valued his reputation."
"He refused to marry her," Grantaire concluded. It was an easy enough assumption; he'd heard of plenty of so-called noblemen who didn't give a shit about their reputations where commoners were concerned.
Felix nodded. "He was already married, Grantaire. To the baroness. I didn't know. I was asking her to do the impossible. Not, not just asking -- I told her it was the only way to save her soul. That poor, frightened child. I didn't find out the father's name until later. She sent me a letter, begging for forgiveness. After she threw herself from the highest window in her father's estate."
Grantaire realized he was clenching his hands. The thought of someone like Vivien being wronged like that made him want to tear the baron's throat out.
"Is this man still the baron here?"
"Yes. Baron Renee D'Essai."
Grantaire stood and began pacing again. He was angry, and he couldn't contain it sitting down.
"Damn. It wasn't fair, Felix. The poor girl didn't stand a chance. But why did they arrest you? It wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?"
"No. You didn't tell her to kill herself."
"Her father didn't see it that way, and he still runs Aureville. Maybe he's right to blame me. My advice was flawed, Grantaire. I should have counseled her better. If I hadn't been so full of myself, I might have been able to help her."
"That's horse shit and you know it. She didn't give you the whole story, Felix. If she wanted the best advice you could give her, she should have been honest with you. You had the right to expect that much."
Felix shook his head. "You don't understand."
"Damn right I don't. I don't understand why you ran away to a monastery and hid from this. Does Enjolras know about this?"
"Yes. My abbot ordered me to accompany Enjolras on this journey. He worried that I had grown too disillusioned over the years. He hoped Enjolras's faith would restore my own. I fear he was wrong. Nothing has changed, and now we are both going to die here."
Grantaire kicked the iron bars again, this time sending a tingling shock through his leg. "Oh no, we're not. You don't deserving to die for giving bad advice, Felix. Don't you see? Helping Enjolras has given us both a second chance, and no one's taking it away from us. I'm getting us both out of here."

***

"Aren't you finished yet? I think my back is breaking."
Grantaire scowled down from his perch atop priest's shoulders. This job was hard enough without all this whining. The night sky swam with heavy clouds that almost blotted out the moon, giving him little light to work by. The bars on the window weren't as corroded as he might have hoped, and the file he kept hidden in his boot was, by necessity, a small one.
"Just a little more. If you'd quit moving around, I would have been done a long time ago."
"I can't help that. I'm not a pack mule."
"No. A mule wouldn't complain this much." Felix had nothing to say to that. The bar Grantaire was working on loosened finally. He yanked on it until it pulled free in his hand. Only one bar remained between them and freedom. With a perverse smile, he dropped the bar he held on Felix's foot.
"Ow! Watch what you're doing."
"Sorry."
A strange, growling noise sounded in the tiny cell. Grantaire looked around in confusion. "What the hell was that?"
"My stomach," Felix said sheepishly. "I'm hungry. I can't believe they didn't come down to feed us or give us water. They just threw us down here like so much garbage and forgot about us."
"You should be grateful. I don't think they'd approve of our remodeling."
Grantaire worked on the last bar with renewed enthusiasm. The grating of the file and Felix's labored breathing were the only sounds in their dark cell. Their laughing neighbor had been quiet for hours; he must have fallen asleep. In the distance he heard laughter of the more sane variety and the faint but unmistakable notes of a wooden flute. He remembered the tavern across the street and thanked his luck that their window looked out on the alley. They didn't want to be seen crawling out of the window by some late-night reveler.
Finished at last, he pulled the last bar free and jumped down from Felix's shoulders. The priest sat down, groaning in relief. Grantaire tucked the file back into his boot and massaged his cramped fingers. He would probably have blisters in the morning, but that was a small price to pay.
"Don't get comfortable, Felix. We're leaving now."
"Can't we rest a bit first?"
"Rest? All you did was stand there. Come on, let's go." He reached down to grab a handful of Felix's robe and tugged on it until the priest grudgingly got to his feet.
"I know I'm going to regret this. Felix, get on my shoulders."
Felix looked doubtfully up at the window. "I can't climb through there."
"You'll climb through there if I have to shove you through."
"But..."
"Felix, don't argue with me. I'm a desperate criminal." He kneeled on the cell floor, waiting for Felix to start climbing. At last Felix placed a tentative foot onto his shoulder. When the other foot came down, Grantaire thought the weight was going to crush him.
"Good God, priest. What have you been eating?"
He grabbed Felix by the ankles and stood slowly, his legs shaking with the effort. Just as he reached his full height, Felix wavered and nearly fell. He held on by grabbing a fistful of Grantaire's hair, practically pulling it out in his desperation to hold on.
"If you don't stop that I'm going to drop you."
The shooting pain in his scalp eased off.
"Sorry," Felix muttered. "I didn't want to fall."
"Just get through the damn window."
"How?"
He sighed. "It's very simple, Felix. Put your arms through the window and pull yourself out."
He heard the priest grunting with the effort. As the weight on his shoulders lessened, Grantaire pulled away to shove Felix from behind.
"Oof! Stop that!"
"Now what's wrong?"
"I'm stuck."
He let go of Felix and backed away. In other circumstances, the sight of the priest dangling from the window might have been funny. But he was blocking the only way out.
"You can't be stuck. I know you're not exactly fit and trim, but you're not that big. Just squeeze through the window."
Felix wriggled back and forth without making any progress. Ignoring his complaints, Grantaire got behind him and shoved harder. But it was no use. Felix simply would not fit through the window.
"I don't believe this. All my work is for nothing because you're too damn fat." Without warning, he grabbed Felix by the legs and pulled him back into the cell. He landed with a thump, and Grantaire fell backward.
Felix sat up, groaning and rubbing his side. "Why didn't you warn me? I think you broke something."
"Oh, shut up."
"Can't you try the lock again?"
"It's no use." He had a nice assortment of picks and wires in his other boot that would have opened most locks, but this one was so old and rusty it was a wonder that even the key could turn it. Grantaire had tried for hours without success before resorting to the window.
"I should just leave you here."
Felix hung his head. "I wouldn't blame you. I'm the one they want anyway. Just, please tell Enjolras not to come for me. Tell him I decided to stay here."
"Oh, don't go acting like a martyr on me. I was just kidding. Mostly. I'll go through the window and back in the front door. I'll take the keys from the guard and let you out."
"How are you going to manage that?"
"I'll think of something."
Once in the alley, Grantaire pressed himself against the jail wall and listened. The music from the tavern had grown louder, lyre and drums joining in with the merry patter of the flute. Avoiding the activity, he padded around the corner, where only a row of ramshackle houses faced the jail. No light shone from the windows, and all was quiet. Breathing deeply, he leaned against the wall and racked his brain for a way out of this mess.
He and Felix weren't considered much of a threat by the constables. That was apparent from the way they'd tossed them casually into their cell, without bothering to chain them or check on them. Laughing boy certainly wouldn't be expected to mount an escape attempt. That meant that now, in the dead of night, they probably didn't have more than two or three men in the jail.
Still, they were two or three armed men. All Grantaire had was a file. It was hopeless. He was going to get himself killed trying to get the keys. But what choice did he have? Ever since his knighthood ceremony in Cheval, Grantaire had thought of Felix as his friend. He couldn't let these people hang him because of a grudge.
He couldn't go back and get Enjolras's help, either. By the time he explained everything and they got back to the jail it would be daylight. They would all get killed. No, he had no choice. He had to get Felix out of there now.
The question remained -- how was he going to do it? There were no windows on this side of the building. Cautiously, he edged around to the front of the jail. He peered in through the front window to see two constables dicing at a small table. They were engrossed in their game, but they wouldn't fail to notice one of their prisoners strolling in through the door. He waited for a few minutes, but the constables didn't move. He couldn't go in this way. His only choice was to go in through a window facing the tavern. Those ones did not open onto cells and were shuttered, not barred. How was he going to manage that without being seen?
Grantaire tiptoed back to the alley. He poked his head around the corner. Despite the late hour, the tavern was still very much alive with activity. Lantern light shone from every window, and shadows danced in rhythm to the pounding feet of the customers and the merry song of the minstrels. Grantaire could hope to go unnoticed by the people inside the tavern. But others stood in the street in front of it. Gaily dressed whores laughed with a few reeling customers, while another hung all over a tall, stiff gentleman who seemed oddly out of place.
He kept watching, hoping they would go inside. Then the tall gentleman turned so Grantaire could see his face. It was Enjolras! He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Enjolras was still there. That was really him, standing in front of the tavern, talking to a whore.
Realizing no one was looking his way, Grantaire stepped out of the alley and strode boldly across the street. He'd learned a long time ago that most people paid little attention to you if you acted like you belonged. As he got closer the whore laughed, a throaty chuckle that reminded him of Sydney. She even had the same mischievous twinkle in her eye. It was an odd time for it, but Grantaire suddenly missed Sydney. She had been his friend, and he barely taken the time to say good-bye to her. He'd never expected to be gone this long. Well, he'd have some interesting stories when he got back. He wondered what she'd think of Enjolras.
"No, thank you," Enjolras was saying. "I need to find my friends. You haven't seen them?"
She ran a hand slowly down Enjolras's arm and flashed a wicked smile. "Don't worry about them, honey. We can have more fun without them."
The drunken men standing beside them erupted into sudden laughter. They lurched into the tavern, leaning on the arms of the other women. The trill of music and staccato rhythm of dancing feet erupted loudly for a moment before the doors swung shut behind them.
"Well now," the whore purred. She pressed herself against Enjolras. "Looks like we're all alone."
Grantaire was reluctant to interrupt this. He'd never seen Enjolras look so frightened. The knight was blushing furiously and holding his hands away from the woman, as if he was afraid to touch her. Unfortunately, Grantaire had more important things to do than enjoy his friend's discomfort. He stepped up behind the whore and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Excuse me. Can I cut in?"
She turned to him, lips pouting in a frown. Enjolras pushed her out of the way and grabbed Grantaire by the shoulders.
"Grantaire, it's good to see you. I was getting worried. Where is Felix?"
The whore shook her head in disgust. "Why didn't you tell me you liked men?" She turned on her heel and stomped back into the tavern. Enjolras stared after her, blinking in astonishment.
"Oh dear, perhaps I should apologize."
"Never mind her. We have a problem."
Grantaire dragged Enjolras into the alley and pointed to the open window. "Felix is in there. We got arrested."
"Arrested? What did you do?"
"Don't blame me," Grantaire said indignantly. "It was the priest's fault. Well, not his fault, exactly. They don't like him here."
Enjolras peered up at the open window. "Felix, are you all right?"
"Enjolras? Is that you?"
"Yes. Don't worry Felix, we'll get you out of there. I'll speak to the constables and..."
"And they'll arrest all of us," Grantaire finished. "We can have a group hanging in the morning. It'll be fun."
"Grantaire, surely Felix didn't do anything illegal. If we just explain, they'll release him."
Grantaire sighed. "Enjolras, they know he didn't do anything illegal. What he did do was offend the guy who runs this town. That's close enough for them. Now, will you please listen to me? I didn't spend all day filing those damn bars out of the window so we could stroll back in there and surrender ourselves."
"This is a grave injustice, Grantaire. My father would never permit such a thing in Cheval."
"Yeah, well, when you're king you can give Baron Renee a nice, long lecture. In the mean time, let's get Felix out of here."
"Can't he climb through the window?"
"We tried that. He didn't fit."
"You didn't have to tell him that," Felix complained from inside the cell.
"Yes I did. Now shut up. Enjolras, there are two constables dicing in the front room. We need to persuade them to loan us their keys."
The constables shrieked in surprise when an armed knight burst into the room and sliced their table in half with one stroke of his sword. One fell on his ass in a shower of dice and coins. The other backed up, dodging his fallen chair and reaching for the sword that hung at his side.
Grantaire grabbed the fallen man's weapon and pressed his foot heavily into the man's throat. Wide-eyed, he made strangled, choking sounds. Grantaire eased the pressure a bit. The constable had gotten the message -- he didn't move.
His comrade watched in horror as Enjolras batted his newly drawn weapon away with a swipe of his broad sword. Shaking, he backed against the wall, encouraged by the advancing blade that Enjolras pushed gently to his chest.
"Oh, God. Please don't kill us."
"We would prefer to avoid that necessity. If you can provide us with some rope, my companion will simply..."
"In the store room. Down the hall. First door on your right."
Grantaire fetched the rope and bound the cooperative guards, adding cloth gags for good measure. He collected their keys and went to free Felix while Enjolras stayed with them. On the way out, Grantaire paused to collect a few supplies from the store room. Under the circumstances, he didn't think they should stick around to finish their shopping. Acting calm and unhurried, they collected their horses from the stable and rode out of Aureville without looking back.

***

Grantaire looked up at the golden eagle circling on the breeze, casting its shadow against the rising sun. As he watched in admiration, it flapped its wings and dove. It cut the air like a blade and vanished behind the tree-line.
Beautiful. Grantaire smiled, realizing a rare contentment. There was a rare contentment to be had in riding across the countryside accompanied only by people you liked and trusted. He glanced behind him to where Felix and Enjolras rode side by side, their breath steaming in the frosty, autumn air.
"Yes, Felix," Enjolras was saying, "it was Saint Etienne who wrote that no man can shoulder another's destiny. The girl's decision to take her own life was made outside your influence. It is not only unnecessary to blame yourself for that, it is wrong."
"I suppose you're right."
Grantaire shook his head. Hadn't he tried to tell Felix that very thing? The priest wouldn't listen to him. Of course, he couldn't quote as many saints. Any, in fact. Enjolras could always be counted on for that. Well, until they reached San Sebastien, anyway. Then Enjolras wouldn't need him any more. Grantaire would be on his own again.
The thought saddened him, and Grantaire cursed himself for getting maudlin. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? To get rid of his unwanted companions, go back to Savin and buy his tavern. It was his only reason for being here.
Grantaire sighed. The tavern had seemed like a good enough reason for coming along on this venture in the first place. Why did it seem so empty now? He looked up at the foothills looming ahead of them, gray and forbidden. He couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to change for the worse

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