"What counsel do you have for us this morning, demoiselle?” I blink and find the duchess looking at me politely. Crunard, too, is watching me with his cold blue eyes and I realize I must play this very carefully. "Would it not be better to use this moment of time before all our enemies descend on us to get you to a more secure location? Rennes, perhaps? The people there are loyal. They have a defensible position and the troops to defend it, as well as a bishop who can see you safely crowned duchess.” Crunard regards me, his face carefully blank. "What makes
you think that Rennes is so very loyal, demoiselle?” There is a challenging tone in his voice, and I fear I have said too much or said it too baldly and have made Duval’s hand in the strategy clear to him.
I meet his gaze. “The convent has always thought highly of them, my lord chancellor.” There. Let him make of that what he will.
“That is not a bad idea,” Captain Dunois says thoughtfully.
Chancellor Crunard opens his mouth to argue, which makes me favor the idea all the more. But before he can begin his arguments, there is a knock on the door. “Yes?” he calls out, making no attempt to hide his annoyance.
De Lornay opens the door, bows low, then comes into the room. All signs of the seductive courtier are gone; he is sweat stained and travel weary. He falls to one knee before the duchess and lowers his head. “Your Grace. I beg forgiveness for interrupting your meeting, but I bring grave news that cannot wait.” The duchess’s face pales. “Go on.”
“The French taken Guingamp in the north. The city has fallen.”
Behind me, Captain Dunois swears under his breath, but de Lornay continues. “That is not the worst of it. The French army has crossed our northern and eastern borders as well. They have
taken three of our cities, Ancenis, Vitré, and Fougères.” even though we have all been awaiting this news, it is different to actually hear it. There is a long, stunned silence as we realize our country has once again been invaded.
The duchess is white as snow, but she gracefully inclines her head. “Thank you for bringing us word of these events, Baron de Lornay. Pray go refresh yourself.”
He rises to his feet and leaves the room.
Crunard speaks first. “It seems we are suddenly out of time.” The duchess looks up at Captain Dunois, her eyes wide with fear she is trying so desperately to hide. “How long can we withstand a siege if it comes to that?”
“Three weeks, four at the most.”
“Is that long enough for any of the help on the way to reach us?”
“No. It is not,” he says, his voice heavy with defeat. She gives a sharp nod. “So staying here buys us nothing, not even enough time.”
Captain Dunois starts to speak, but she silences him. “How long would it take us to reach Rennes from here?”
“Four or five days, Your Grace.”
“At best,” Chancellor Crunard points out. "We will be greatly hampered by the baggage carts and household that cannot travel by horse. Our party will be stretched out for half a mile, a ripe target for all our enemies.”
Captain Dunois nods, conceding the point. “Besides, Rennes is close to Fougères. The French could easily cut us off and might even now be marching on the city. However, these bad tidings also bring a small gift.”
The duchess frowns. “How is that, Captain?”
He spreads his hands. “Ancenis is Marshal Rieux’s own holding. If the French have seized his lands, what better rallying cry to call him back to our side? Surely he will wish to put aside this petty alliance with d’Albret in order to protect his own lands.”
A small ray of hope appears on the duchess’s face, but Crunard stares at him stonily. “Do you mean reconcile with Marshal Rieux?”
Dunois nods.
“Do you think that is possible?” the duchess asks. Dunois shrugs. “He is a good man at heart, Your Grace, and no doubt thinks he is doing what’s best for his country.”
“By holding my own city against me?” the duchess asks tartly. “By allying with the strongest of your suitors. However, now that the French are on the march, he will no doubt see the need to face them with a united front and will abandon this path he has taken.”
Her face creased in thought, the duchess begins to pace.
“How would we do this?”
"We would take a small party and ride for Nantes to parley with him.”
Crunard takes a step toward the duchess. “I do not think it is safe for you to leave the city, Your Grace.”
She glances at Captain Dunois, her arched brows raised in question.
“I think it is worth considering,” he says. "Whatever Rieux may hope to get from this rebellion of his, he will not want it at the cost of his own holding.”
The chancellor sighs heavily, as if deeply worried. “I think you are making a terrible mistake.”
But his is only one vote among three and he is overruled by both Captain Dunois and the duchess herself. And so it is decided. The duchess and her small party will ride for Nantes tomorrow.
Chapter Forty-seven
Duval is late. either that or he is not coming. I pace in front of the fire and try not to fret, but the most likely explanation is that he has become too ill to move. That he is huddled in some corner on the verge of death.
This idea so distresses me that I grab my cloak and head for the door. If the hidden tunnels and corridors run the full breadth and depth of the castle, I will need help searching them. Besides, I will not be able to carry him back by myself.
The sergeant at arms will not let me into the garrison, but he sends a lackey to fetch Beast for me. A short while later, he and de Lornay arrive. I have caught them dicing. De Lornay still holds a pair in his hand and is rubbing them together cheerfully. when they see it is me, the casual smiles and laughter drop from their faces and they hurry forward. "What is it?” Beast asks.
I glance at the nearby sergeant at arms, and Beast takes my elbow and moves us outside. when we are standing in the middle of the training yard, far from any corners or doorways that might conceal an eavesdropper, de Lornay asks, “Has something happened to Duval?”
“He was supposed to come to my room tonight and he has not. He has told you where he is staying, yes?”
Beast nods slowly.
"Well, I fear he is lying somewhere in there. Have you seen him in the last few days? He is very ill. He — ” My throat grows so tight that it is hard to get the words out. In the end, I cannot tell them I am afraid Duval is dying but say instead, “I fear he is too weak to move.”