Slaying the Silence

Chapter Three

The Silent Phantom watched Aria de Jacques ride along the path until she disappeared from view. Chuckling quietly, he slipped out of his hiding place. It was easy to conceal himself - this forest was his own turf, and Aria had been carried through it unconscious.

He whistled softly, and his horse came trotting up to him, nickering in a friendly manner. Absently stroking its neck, he thought back to his interactions with Aria. Why had he let her go? His plan had been to merely bind her wounds, and then hold her in the cabin for ransom. It was a simple plan. Yet he had let her go, even refusing payment. He had complicated the matter.

Still, he could use this situation to his advantage. He was confident that time would prove his hasty decision the correct one. Already, the beginnings of a plan had taken root in his mind.

The girl's face suddenly flashed into his mind's eye. He frowned and mounted the horse. There was something about her, something that intrigued him. Perhaps it was her naïvety.

Yes, that was it. It was odd, to say the least, for a young woman of her age and rank to trust so easily in one such as him. Either the girl's father sheltered her, or she was a complete halfwit. He believed it to be the first. The girl, though dangerously innocent, did not seem to lack intelligence.

He shook his head. In his life, the Silent Phantom had encountered largely only two kinds of noblemen. The first was treacherous and cruel, a flatterer and gifted with deceit. The second was stupid and conceited, concerned with titles and extravagant galas. But this woman seemed to defy both categories.

There had been no hint on her face of the white powder court women seemed so fond of, despite the fact that she was a marquis's daughter. Her lips, though full enough, were not painted, and she wore no rouge. He smiled cruelly. Though not a stunning beauty, she was certainly lovely. Fate - or whatever they called it - seemed to have smiled on her, in that the bandits had merely robbed her. There were crueller fates that could await such women at the hands of men like those.

A strange sensation flitted across his mind - something not unlike relief. Why should I be concerned? He shrugged the thought away and chuckled wryly. Perhaps it was the remains of his earlier acting.

He possessed many talents, deceit not the least of these. But it had required all his cunning and patience to charm Mademoiselle into trusting him. His mouth lifted in a humorless smile. However naïve she may be, the sight of his mask had put her on guard.

Dismissing all thought of Aria de Jacques from his mind, he spurred the horse on, back towards his manor.

**********

Aria stood in front of her father, hands folded gently behind her back. The marquis paced restlessly back and forth, a deep frown creasing his forehead. He stopped pacing and turned to face Aria, mimicking her pose.

"You say that you were robbed. What was stolen?"

"One hundred livres, Father, and provisions."

He shook his head angrily. "I should have them all hung," he muttered. The man unfolded his arms and briefly took her hands in his. "I could have lost you, child," he whispered. "Are you aware of what those men could have done to you - to your honor?"

"I am," she answered, inclining her head slightly. Yes, she was grateful that only 100 livres had been stolen. True, it was a generous amount - but it was merely money from her purse, temporary and unimportant.

There was silence for a moment, and then the marquis spoke up again. "You also said, ma chérie, that a man saw you wounded and tended after you at his home. Would you be able to recognize him again? I wish to express my thanks."