The moon covered the austrian mountains with a beautiful pale light. Snow lay thick in the valleys and blanketed all the trees. It was an icy road in the middle of December, and the altitude made winter all the worse up here in the tall peaks of Europe. The road had been barely been made clear of snow, making late travel in the middle of the night hazarodous to say the least. But one car dared to push on, despite snow and ice, despite the late hour. Headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the white surroundings, the car leaving deep tracks in the snow behind it. The five men in the vehicle were warmly dressed. Not the finest or the best clothing. Working mans clothes. Jeans, a simple warm jacket, a thick shirt beneath it, a scarf, cheap gloves and a wolly hat. The faces covered with a few days old beard, their hair scruffy under the warm hats on their heads.
They said nothing, just listened to the radio. A jet, a small passenger plane, beloning to the Angevin Empire, had crashed a few days earlier in the Ionian Sea, not far from the island of Corfu. So far it was not known what caused the crash, but political tension had increased after the Angevin Empire had made it clear that it was not impossible the plane had been shot down by the Byzantine Empire.
The car slowed down and turned, driving into a gas-station and stopping to refuel. The old man working in the gas-station looked out the window, taking a brief pause from the news on the tv-set next to him. It was an old and rusted car, at least fifteen years old, and probably shouldnt be allowed on the road. One man started filling it up with gas as another made his way into the small store. The old man, glasses on his nose and a gray mustasch beneath it, kept an eye on the man that entered his store. Early twenties, no older than twenty-five was his guess. Dressed in ordinary clothes. He gathered snacks and a dozen soda-bottles and three newspapers before he walked over to pay for it all.
All the while, the news on the tv-set talked about recent events in the world. The Angevin Empire had withdrawn from the Holy Land after two years of fighting. The Vatican had released an official statement where they declared they were sad to see the mighty Angevin army returning to their homelands and that the work of God was not yet over. The newscaster went on as pictures swapped to middle-eastern troops and vehicles advancing along highways in the Holy Land. With the Angevin Empire gone, the Saracen armies were moving on several strategic locations throughout the the Levant. A truce had been signed between the Caliph of Islam, Saladin, and the Duke of Normandy, Richard Plantagenet, head of state for the Angevin Empire. The truce ensured safe travel for all pilgrims of all faiths to and from the Holy City of Jerusalem. The news then moved on to talk about the crashed plane off the coast of Greece. The Byzantine Empire refuted all claims that they were somehow involved in shooting it down. Sources had revealed that the plane could have transported nonother than the Duke of Normandy, Richard Plantagenet, Cuer de Lion.
The two men ignored the news as the man buying all the snacks and drinks handed over a high value bill. The old man was a bit surprised and then noticed the wallet the young man held was filled with bills of equal or higher worth. They exchanged a few words of curtesy, but that was enough for the old man to realize the man before him spoke with a broken accent. He accepted the money and returned the change and the young man stepped back out into the dark and ran for the car. It was an old car, a rusty car, barely holding together. And the young man was dressed like any other ordinary citizen. It did not add up with the amount of money he carried in his pocket. As the car drove off, the old man picked up the phone and called the police.
An hour or two later, the car stood parked infront of a small motell, located in a snowcovered valley between five massive and glorious mountainpeaks. The sun was slowly crawling over the horizon to the east. The five men from the car sat in the same room, a simple room with a bed and a couch, a few chairs and a table. A small kitchen and a toilet and shower. Eating and drinking what had been purchased at the gas-station, they all watched the news on the tv-set in the room. A rerun from the news broadcasted last night.
A french reporter asked a direct question if the missing plane transported the Duke of Normandy from the Levant, and if it didnt, where the Duke of Normandy was currently located. Answering the question, at a press-briefing, was a man known throughout the world, a man of incredible fame and known for his achievements in war and tournament.
"I can assure you all that the Duke has not been shot down" Guillaume le Maréchal said, speaking norman french. "The Duke is currently with his troops, crossing the mediterranean with the fleet, as they return home after a succesful campaign in the Levant against the Saracen foe."
"Succesful" one of the men in the room said, a few years into his thirties, him too speaking in norman french. "We lost everything we gained."
"Not quite" another of the men said, also in his thirties, also speaking in french. "We sold Cyprus, remember."
"It must be the reason for the missile" the man who had bought the food was next to speak. "We did annex Cyprus from the Byzantines two years ago."
"It might just as well have been the Austrians, Wilfred" the first of the men, a Sir Crispin, pointed out. "They left for a reason after Acre."
A missile had indeed hit their plane as they flew over the Ionian Sea. It had torn one of the wings clean off and forced them to land in the water. Out of two dozen people on that plane, only five survived. Perhaps most importantly, the man that spoke next.
"Who ever it was, I will make damn sure I will deal with them."
"My liege" Sir Crispin said, the experienced and trusted norman knight took a careful step forward. "If I may, your greatest concern should perhaps not be foreign enemies at this point in time. You have enemies at home and they started plotting against you the moment you left for the Holy Lands."
"That is of no concern" their lord replied, eyes focused on the news on the tv-set. "I sent Maréchal home for that very reason when the rumours started. I trust that Maréchal, with the help from Longchamp, will keep order until I return home."
Sir de Bailleul sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am not so much worried about norman barons, as I am worried about saxon earls. With our Duke gone, they might try and revolt once more. They have been quiet for ten years, but this could make them bold enough to rebel once more."
Their liege, the Duke of Normandy himself, King of England, laughed. "I am not worried about any saxon earls. Not when I return home with two such strong saxon knights as my allies and friends." He held his hand out and grinned at the two young men they travelled with them.
Wilfred of Rotherwood and Robert of Loxley bowed slightly before their king at the praise he bestowed upon them. He had become impressed by their achievements in battle during the war in the Holy Land and had brought them into his personal entourage of trusted advisors and knights. Impressive knights as they were, they were more so a perfect political tool to be used as propaganda once they returned home to England. They would help the Duke to secure his northern provinces and prevent the saxons from rising against their rulers, the normans of the Angevin Empire.
"Besides" the Duke then continued as he looked at his fellow normans. "England is a backwater island, only useful for collecting taxes and recruiting soldiers. Any trouble will be swiftly dealt with." He then walked over and turned off the tv before turning to face the four knights in his service. "When will we reach my brother-in-law?"
"In a day or two, my lord" Wilfred of Rotherwood said, his french having a touch of a saxon accent. "Depending on how easy it is to cross the Austrian border."
"Good" the Duke said and nodded. "I expect to be back in Angers before the week is over."
Several cars could be heard driving up to the motell, at speed. Their headlights burst through the windows and soon several voices, austrians shouting, could be clearly heard. It was clear what was happening. They had been discovered. They all unzipped their jackets and pulled out their pistols and cocked them.
To be continued...