Read Online Chris Karlsen - Knights in Time by Knight Blindness - Free Book Online

donation to the favorite charity of Minister Tomlinson, Alex’s local MP, helped grease the way for them. Harrow called Deputy
    Favreau, his equal in the French Parliament. Favreau contacted the hospital administration and
    requested they co-operate and not worry about English paperwork.
    “Thank you for your patience,” Monette said and sat on the sofa across from them. He
    rifled through the discharge paperwork, signed the last page, and handed the forms to Alex. Then he removed a small envelope from Stephen’s file. “This is a receipt from the Musee de l’Armee
    representative for Mr. Palmer’s armor.” The doctor leaned forward. “I wish you luck with him,
    gentlemen. He’s an annoyingly arrogant man with sneaky rat eyes.”
    “Good to know. Can we see Mr. Palmer now?” Alex asked.
    “In a moment, but first I want to make certain you understand his mental state. We’ve
    tested him. There’s no brain damage. We don’t know who inflicted the injury to him. He claims it was a French knight. Clearly, the attack has triggered a psychotic break, from which he may
    never recover.”
    “We understand.” Alex folded the paperwork and tucked it into his inside coat pocket.
    “I have a question,” Ian said.
    Monette gestured for him to continue.
    “Where exactly in that field did they find him, if you know?”
    “I was not there, but I am told he was lying in the grass a few meters behind the sign
    commemorating the battle. Shall we?”
    The doctor led them to a room past ICU and near the nurse’s station. He stopped in the
    corridor just outside the closed door.
    “I’m afraid the musee representative took all of the garments Mr. Palmer wore when
    found. The expert seemed as interested in the cloth pieces as the armor. My staff went through a stack of clothing left behind by previous patients so he’d have something other than the hospital gown and robe to wear. Nothing fits properly, but it is the best they could do.”
    “Thank you, I’m sure he appreciates the effort,” Alex said.
    “Good day and good luck,” Monette said and walked away.
    Ian looked at Alex. “I won’t sound like the man he remembers. I think it’s best if I stay
    quiet until we get him out of here and the way home.”
    “I sound different too. I don’t know how or where to start to explain what’s happened.”
    Alex took a deep breath and blew it out, then opened the door.
    Stephen sat in front of the window, enjoying the sun on his face and the classic music
    Cloutier made happen from the mysterious station. He turned at the sound of the door opening.
    “Who is it?” That morning the bawd who offered to bathe him two days earlier brought
    him a tasty cake, flaky and filled with crème. A pastry she called it. He hoped it was her again with another cake.
    “Hello, Stephen. It’s Guy and Basil.”
    He straightened. What new trick of his captors was this? Had his blindness not pleased
    them enough? “You’re not Guy. I know his voice as well as my own.” He’d test the impostors
    and show them he wasn’t the dolt they thought him. “If you are who you say you are, then you
    will know the answers. What is the name of your favorite destrier?”
    “Thor,” the one calling himself Guy said.
    He expected that one question to foil their plan. The odds of the man guessing the right
    name were beyond measure. “When did we last see one another?”
    “We fought together at Poitiers. You were a knight in my service.”
    Information Monette might’ve told the man. Stephen considered his next question and
    couldn’t imagine the French had any knowledge of Guy’s family. He needed to ask more personal
    questions. “Tell me of your family?”
    “At the time of the battle, my father was dead. My mother lived with the holy sisters at
    Hailes Abbey. I had a sister Madeline and a nephew, Geoffrey.”
    How could the man know such details? If Stephen hadn’t heard the difference in this
    man’s voice, he’d surely believe