‘Simon, you have remained silent these past weeks.’

‘Your grace, I had affairs of state needing attention. Better that I do what I can while these circumstances demand your time.’

The King looked pensive. He stared across the Paris rooftops and the hive of activity on the city streets and barges on the River Seine. ‘Our France is becoming prosperous again. We have lost much but we will regain it all, of that we are convinced. God will look kindly on our Christian endeavours.’

Bucy had heard the same words being uttered for years but no action had followed to make them a reality. And a council advising war had not yet convinced the young King. No warrior spirit lurked beneath his ermine-lined robes.

‘Sire,’ said the old lawyer: the only word he could muster.

‘Duties aside, you are not usually shy in giving your comments, yet not a word from you, Simon.’ Charles was gracious enough to smile at the old man. ‘The evidence about the death of our cousin Blanche sounds believable to us. Despite Don Pedro’s protestations to the contrary, she was murdered and now we find there is a witness.’

‘Is the ring proof enough, highness?’

Charles nodded, turning the ring in his fingers. ‘I know it. It is plain. A gift that is not ostentatious. It reflects the innocent child she was. She had no craving for precious stones and jewellery. I believe it was that humility which led to her death, so her husband could fornicate with his lewd mistress without further criticism.’

Bucy gave an unconscious shrug and regretted it when he saw the King take notice.

‘You doubt it?’ said Charles.