“Do you think there can be two of God’s appointed in one kingdom? By this, I do not refer to you and the holy woman Colette. But you and the Dauphin. A king is also chosen by God, or did you not know?”

Joan stares at him.

“It isn’t a trick question,” he says. “I am curious as to what you think.”

“The Dauphin and I understand each other. We are friends.”

He opens his mouth, as if to let the word slip fully into it before chewing. He seems to taste it, to roll it around on his tongue, as one would a new and surprising wine. “Friends,” he repeats. “Well, it must be so. His Majesty has raised you so high. And why not, the court asks itself? It has never been done before, but neither have the miracles you have performed and which we have witnessed. And there is still more joy awaiting us in Reims. You must get us there, and I must anoint the Dauphin with the oil of the Holy Ampulla, which has anointed nearly all His Majesty’s great forefathers.”

“I will get us there, if Your Excellency does not drop the bottle.”

She has already begun to walk away when his voice reaches her. “Oh, I would not think there is any danger of that. Though I may be an old man to you, my hand is steady enough. But I will have to be a little careful. If I anoint the wrong person, well, that would be an unforgivable mistake.”

She turns. She does not even have to speak for him to know they are now even.

“Unless my sources have been lying,” he says, “it would not be the first time you were mistaken for the Dauphin. I thought, when I initially heard the story, His Majesty outside loading carts? Opening barrels? Testing crossbows? It does not sound like him. No, not His Majesty. Not this young man.”

“An easy enough mistake, since I put on a man’s clothes,” she replies. “And I am the same height. That is all. There are many who have never had the honor of seeing the Dauphin before.”

“Another thing,” he continues. “Does His Majesty know that you are learning to read and write? That you have made a book and filled it with your name written beside the Dauphin’s name and titles? Now, why would you do that? It is a natural question. Why would you, Joan, write your name beside His Majesty’s?”

She looks away. She doesn’t answer.

“And does the Dauphin, your good friend, know that le Maçon was seen taking you to his private library, where you opened a Bible belonging to his royal grandfather, a gift of His Holiness, the Pope? By the way, I wonder where that book of yours is now. I hope you have not mislaid it. You should be careful. Some would find such stories about you…concerning.”