“Crunard?” His eyes widen with astonishment and disbelief, but I am relieved he does not dismiss me out of hand.
“Yes, my lord. It is a long and complicated story, one that Duval did not think you would accept without proof.”
“You have this proof?”
“Of a sort.” I have had two days on the road to arrange my thoughts into some semblance of order, so I am sorely frustrated to find myself groping for words. “I first grew uneasy about him when you told us of the chancellor not better defending Duval on the night the council discussed his arrest, for the chancellor was behind much of Duval’s actions. I grew even more suspicious when I received word from my convent that Crunard had told them Duval was involved in his mother’s plots, as that was blatantly false.”
Dunois’s thick brows draw down in a scowl. “The chancellor told them that?”
“Yes, but there is more.” I spend the next hour laying out all my evidence against Chancellor Crunard: the footpad attack on us, the signet ring, the death of Nemours, and the outright lies he told the convent.
when I am done, Dunois sits silent and brooding for a long time. At last he shakes his head. "While I can see how your reasoning has led you to believe this, I cannot help but feel there is some other explanation we are missing.”
“But what of the signet ring? Surely that is proof.”
Dunois rises to his feet. “It is strange, I’ll grant you that, but proof of treason? And on such a grand scale?” He shakes his head again. “I cannot bring myself to believe that of the chancellor. what does Duval think?”
“Duval’s mind was too consumed by the poison Crunard has given him to use reason.”
His head snaps up at this. “Poison? Duval is being poisoned?”
“Yes, my lord. Yet another betrayal to lay at the chancellor’s feet.”
His face turns to chalk. “I thought he had merely gone into hiding.”
“It is quite advanced,” I tell him gently. “He cannot move his legs. The paralysis will move to his lungs next, then his heart. Perhaps it already has.”
The silence is filled with the crackle and hiss of the fire.
“Sweet Jesu!” Dunois says, scrubbing his face with his hands. “If what you are saying is true, we cannot return to Guérande should this gambit fail. And Isabeau . . .” He looks up at me, his face haunted.
“You make certain this gambit does not fail,” I tell him. “I will think of something to free Isabeau once we have finished here.”
Chapter Fifty
The next day is Sunday, and the duchess spends the morning in prayer, but I am far too restless for such pursuits. I cross to the window and stare out at the rich woodland that surrounds the hunting lodge, wondering if my letter has reached the convent and, if it has, if the abbess believes me. I wish bitterly that Annith had written to me before I left. even if she has learned the answers I seek, Vanth will never find me here.
Like a tongue poking at a painful tooth, my mind goes back to Duval. At our parting — should I have done something different? And what of Crunard? He has always been suspicious of Duval’s disappearance. will he come looking for him once I am gone?
Or perhaps Duval will die of the poison before Crunard finds him.
That thought is like pouring salt into a fresh wound and prods me to grab my cloak and go outside. Le Palais is on a ridge that overlooks the Loire River and the valley below. The chill wind whips at my hair and tugs at my cloak as I stare down at the city ramparts. what are those traitors plotting? I do not trust them, and I do not like Anne being this close to whatever they have planned.
I hear a step behind me, and I turn to find the duchess bundled up in her ermine-lined cloak, picking her way along the path. “Shouldn’t you be resting, Your Grace?”
“I cannot. My mind will not hold still.” She comes to stand next to me and together we stare down into the valley, to the imposing high walls of Nantes and the blue and yellow banners flying from the ramparts.
“I was born there, you know,” the duchess says. “The night I came into this world, my father carried me to those very ramparts and held me aloft so I could behold my kingdom and so his subjects could behold their next ruler.” She sounds bemused, as if she cannot quite understand how she came to be here while her enemies are there.
“That gate,” she says. “See? That far one? That is the very gate through which Duval carried Isabeau and me to safety nearly eight years ago.” Her voice catches in her throat. “I wish he were here,” she whispers fiercely. “If ever I had need of his counsel, it is now.” She sends me a stricken look. “I had thought he would ride out and meet us on the road. Dunois will not honor the call for his arrest; surely he knows this. why did he not come, Ismae?”
As I stare into her unflinching brown eyes, I find I am unable to keep secrets from her any longer. It is exactly what her other advisors do, and I do not wish to repeat their mistakes. “He is ill, Your Grace. Gravely ill.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “The plague?”
I shake my head. “He is being poisoned.”
Her eyes grow round with horror and she takes a step back. “Poison?” she says faintly.
“Yes, but not at my hand,” I rush to assure her.
"Why did no one tell me of this sooner?” she demands.
“Because he did not wish for you to know, and I was hoping to find an antidote or cure before having to give you such dire news.”
“But I take it you have found no cure.”
“I have not.”
She is silent as she stares down at the city below us, gathering her courage to ask the next question. “Is he dead?”
“Very likely he is by now, as he was at death’s door when we left Guérande.” Remembering how I left him fills me with a nearly overwhelming urge to grab the nearest horse and ride back to Guérande to protect his unconscious body from Crunard’s further machinations.
She turns on me then, her voice harsh with anger. "Who would do such a thing?”
I take a deep breath. “Chancellor Crunard, Your Grace.” And then I tell her all the ways her most trusted guardian has betrayed her.
The next day, Anne sends an officer to Nantes to request that she be allowed to enter her own city so that she may talk with Marshal Rieux. She chooses de Lornay to carry her message into the city. He is well liked for his beauty and smooth manner, and she hopes he will turn the people of Nantes to her cause.