Swordsman's Legacy (15) by Alex Archer

Author:Alex Archer [Archer, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-12T07:00:00+00:00

“An anonymous source. Don’t ask for names, Lambert—we both know the business you operate treads the borders of lawlessness. I personally care little what you deem moral and just.

But I believe I can help you, if you agree to help me.”

An offer as such always proved intriguing. But often dangerous.

Jacques was very careful whom he allied himself with. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been discerning enough with Ascher Vallois. One would think a knife through the kidney would acquiesce anyone.

The elder gentleman held his head at a tilt, his soft blue eyes unthreatening. Briefly, a flicker of his father’s soft yet accusing gaze gripped Jacques with memory.

It’s not so simple, Jack. This money is stolen. And even if it was not, it won’t help Toby move higher on the donor list. There are rules. We have to wait.

Rules. Ridiculous rules that had allowed an innocent boy to die. Rules had killed his brother.

Ever since, Jack Lambert had made his own rules.

“Mr. Lambert?”

“Hmm? Oh. Go on,” Jacques said.

Roux set the box on the conference table and snapped off both rubber bands. “I understand you may have an interest in historical artifacts.”

He tilted off the cover and Jacques leaned across the table to inspect. A musty odor combined with an astringent note rose into the air.

“It is the actual chain‐mail hauberk from a prominent historical figure,” Roux explained.

“Fifteenth century.”

“Who told you that?”

“No names come to mind. Have you an interest?”

“Depends on which prominent figure you’re offering. Is that blood?”

A brown, flaking stain coated three of the mail links. Viable DNA could rarely be retrieved from ancient blood. Due to oxidation, UV light, environment and other variables, it wasn’t a reliable method. Bone or teeth would prove a better source.

“There is blood, but here—” Roux lifted the mail. It made a rattling sound.

Jacques struggled inwardly not to grab the mail away and insist the man handle it with more care.

Roux pointed to a section of the artifact. Embedded within the metal rings, almost as if woven in, were fine hairs. “This is what I thought would most interest you. I count four, possibly five hairs total. A few yet have the roots on them, I believe.”

Curiosity piqued, Jacques held out his hand and Roux set the lightweight mail onto his palm.

The mesh of rings had apparently been well cared for. There was no rust, no grime embedded within the links, as was usual for chain mail. He was cautious not to completely open up the vest for he wanted to keep an eye on the bloodstain, prevent further flaking.

Indeed, there were hairs twisted about the links. Whoever might have worn this had given a part of his or her very being. And the hair was coiled tight about the rings, ruling out the possibility that Roux had simply woven his own hair into the mail.

“Who did it belong to?” Jacques asked. “A valiant yet nameless knight? One of Charles VII’s foot guards? Is there a certificate of provenance? Sir, I only deal with legitimate—”

Roux pressed his knuckles to the desk and leaned forward.

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