The King fussed with his cloak. The courtiers who gathered behind Bucy waited for their new King to express his intent. Scribes sat at small knee desks at the back of the room, quills already scratching across parchment.

‘Then, Simon, he is cradled in the arms of the English and we will deal with him in a generous manner. We will draw him to us through kindness. He has won the right to be called the Duke of Brittany so we will welcome him as such. He is a young man with little experience in politics or diplomacy. We will lure him away from the manipulative Prince of Wales and the King of England.’

‘An excellent strategy, sire.’

‘Simon, do not flatter us. There is no need. We know our strengths and how to employ them. There is more, is there not? We can tell when you have news that will grieve us. We have had your company over the years and know discomfort when we see it.’

‘Quite so, sire. You know me too well. There is another matter. The chamberlain has an Englishman who seeks an audience.’

‘An Englishman. Here? Do we know him?’

‘We do not, highness. He arrived at the city gates with sixty or more men. They are English and Breton routiers. He came in the wake of the news from Auray.’

‘What purpose?’

‘A private matter. I have questioned him.’

‘And you think we should grant him an audience?’

‘I regret to usher such a vile man into your presence but I feel it is important.’

The King nodded, sniffed into his perfume-laced handkerchief and waited as the chamber’s great doors were opened on Bucy’s signal.

Simon Bucy turned to meet the man-at-arms, who bent his knee, head down until Bucy told him to stand.

‘You came from Auray?’ said the King.

‘I did, your grace.’

‘You have further news of Sir John’s victory over Lord Charles de Blois?’

‘Chandos, sire? No, it was not John Chandos who led the battle. It was Thomas Blackstone,’ said Ranulph de Hayle.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The news brought by de Hayle – that Blackstone had led the attack against the French favourite in Brittany – inflamed an already aggrieved heart. That, and the story the mercenary recounted about the boy who’d witnessed the death of Charles’s cousin Blanche de Bourbon three years before, shook Charles, but his keen mind saw an opportunity. He did not act rashly but spent the following weeks with his advisers. He listened as some outlined an act of war against Don Pedro of Spain, others insisting it better to blockade his ports – a foolish notion given that the Castilian galleys outnumbered those of the French. It was similarly poor advice that had weakened his father but it was not yet time to sweep the court clean of the men whose aim was only to please him. He dismissed them all except for Simon Bucy.