Everyone is in an uproar over d’Albret’s threat of war. There are meetings upon meetings as the council and barons discuss how best to address this newest menace. Meetings the duchess begs off from now and then, pleading a headache. Her ambitious guardians are all too happy to have her out of the way while they plot and plan her duchy’s future.
The Privy Council meets in the duchess’s private chamber, away from the prying eyes and straining ears of the court. Two men-at-arms stand at the door to her rooms. However, no matter how well trained they are, they cannot see around corners, and there is an antechamber that abuts the solar that could easily be used to eavesdrop.
Duval has put me in this room to act as secondary guard. But there is no rule that says I cannot guard and listen at the same time.
This wall is every bit as thick as the last one I tried to listen through, so I head directly for the window and perch myself on the sill. The murmur of voices is stronger here, although I will be hard-pressed to explain why I am embroidering while hanging out the window if someone should happen upon me. even so, I know the abbess will want a full report on the deliberations.
Chancellor Crunard’s deep rumble calls the meeting to order. Someone wants to know why this unexpected meeting has been called, and by the way his voice sets my teeth on edge, I am sure it is Marshal Rieux.
“I have called this meeting.” Anne’s voice is easy to discern. “But I will let my lord Duval explain the why of it.” when Duval finishes telling of the Nemours offer, there is a small uproar from the council members.
“How has this happened?” Madame Dinan asks, as if it is a disaster and not a boon. “There has been no envoy from Nemours.”
“No open one, no,” Duval says. His words cause another wave of outrage from the council.
"Why did Nemours come to you?” Marshal Rieux asks, his vanity and pomposity sorely pricked by this breach in protocol. “You are not regent here; stop acting like one. Or is that what you are angling for?”
“If he wanted to seize a regency, I doubt he would be putting this before all of us,” Captain Dunois points out.
"Enough,” Chancellor Crunard says, and they all quiet down. “This is good news for our duchess and our country, let us not forget that. How much aid will Nemours bring?”
“Three thousand men-at-arms and fifteen hundred pikemen.”
There is a long, painful silence. “Surely you jest,” Marshal Rieux says at last.
“That is not nearly as many as d’Albret has offered,” Madame Dinan points out.
“Madame.” There is a faint tremble in Anne’s voice. “As I have said more times than I can count, I will not wed him. His is more than fifty years old and a grandfather.” She does not say that he is ugly and coarse and makes her skin feel as if it wants to crawl off her bones, but I know that is so.
“But he brings with him an army compared to Nemours’s paltry offer!” Rieux sputters. “An army we will need to stand against the French.”
“Let us put it to a vote,” Crunard says. “All in favor?”
Anne’s voice is first to answer “aye,” but Duval’s “aye” is a close second.
“Nay,” says Rieux, followed by Madame Dinan’s softer “Nay.”
There is a pause, then Captain Dunois speaks. “I am sorry, Your Grace, but as captain of your army, I must point out that without d’Albret fighting by your side, we will need to find additional allies, and as yet we have had no luck in convincing others to our cause. But as a father, I cannot help but be glad of this newest development.”
“Chancellor?” says Anne. "What say you? How will you vote in this matter?”
“I am most pleased at this new development,” Crunard says. “Although it does create problems of its own. even so, I vote aye.”
I sigh in relief on the duchess’s behalf. Just as Duval is reminding them to speak of the Nemours offer to no one, there is a faint whisper of sound behind me. I whip my head around in time to see the latch lifting.
Moving quickly, I pull my long dagger from my ankle sheath and cross the room to stand behind the door.
It creaks open, momentarily blocking my view and trapping me between it and the wall. Madame Hivern again? I wonder. Or perhaps François?
Or maybe Sybella, for why is she in Guérande if not to protect our duchess?
Almost as if sensing the relaxing of my guard, the intruder slams the door into me. I swear as my shoulder crashes into the unforgiving stone, then I spring forward, dagger ready.
Too late. The intruder is already fleeing down the hallway. I step into the corridor in time to see him disappear around a corner. Determined to catch up, I break into a run.
The labyrinth of palace hallways work to my advantage, for every time he turns a corner, he must slow down just enough that I can catch sight of him. One of the circular stairways looms ahead, and the spy takes the steps two at a time. Cursing my cumbersome court garb, I lift my skirts and follow. when I am but halfway up the stairs, I hear the click of a door opening and then shutting.
when I gain the landing, I am dismayed to see a dozen chambers stretching out as far as the eye can see. Swearing in frustration, I approach the first one on my right but sense no spark of life behind it. The first room on the left is similarly empty. I pause at every door until the fifth, where I sense a pulse of life.
I stop long enough to draw my knives, then, moving as silently as possible, I lift the latch and push open the door.
There is a whisper of movement at the open window, then nothing. I race over and peer outside just in time to see a dark figure disappearing through an archway at the side of the courtyard.
At least he is limping. Hopefully, he broke his bedamned leg when he jumped. I sheathe my knives and return to tell Duval of this new twist.
Two days after Duval informed the Privy Council of Nemours’s offer, his brother François invites me to play chess. I accept, wondering if there is some ulterior motive to the invitation.
François is waiting at a table in the grand salon, his attention on setting up the chessboard, which gives me a moment to study him unobserved. That he would betray his own sister makes him dishonorable. That he is Duval’s brother makes him fascinating.
He glances up just then and I smile shyly, as if I have been caught admiring him. He rises to his feet and bows. “Good morning, demoiselle.”
“Good morning,” I reply as I take my seat.
“Duval let you out for the morning?”