‘Your information is incorrect, highness,’ said Blackstone.

The Prince looked at Sir Nigel Loring, who blanched. It was his responsibility to ensure that information he passed to the Prince was accurate. ‘Sire, I have it on good authority from merchants who travelled under escort from Poitiers that they saw fifteen men hanged on a makeshift gallows at the crossroads.’

‘Not so. You should get your facts straight, Sir Nigel. Our Prince depends on it.’

Loring smirked. ‘A piece of cloth was pinned to one of them declaring that Sir Thomas Blackstone was responsible.’

‘I hanged eighteen,’ said Blackstone.

The confession was enough to get the Prince’s full attention and a look of triumph from his chamberlain. ‘Condemned by your own admission,’ he said.

‘Thomas?’ said the Prince.

‘They were routiers. They were not prisoners of war. They rode with Ranulph de Hayle, an Essex knight pardoned by the King to fight during the war. A foul creature who calls himself Ronec le Bête. His men raped and murdered their way across Brittany. We saw the towns and villages they destroyed. Sir John banished him from fighting on our side against Charles of Blois. I rescued my Gascon captain, Beyard, and other prisoners from the castle at Auray, held by de Hayle. Those are the facts.’

The Prince smiled. ‘You see, Loring, Blackstone is correct: we would have condemned him unjustly.’

The chamberlain was about to offer up a defence but the Prince dismissed him with a wave of his hand. ‘Leave us. And everyone else,’ he said.

Sir Nigel extended his arms like a farm girl herding geese and ushered the courtiers away. When the door closed, the Prince smiled. ‘Thomas, you cause upset with little effort.’

‘Highness, it took some effort to save villagers from de Hayle’s men. I am sorry if my actions kept me from your presence.’

‘We kept you waiting so long, Thomas, because we were unwell.’

‘I’m grieved to hear of it. Did you take part in the tourney? I heard they unhorsed you.’

‘And what do you believe?’

‘I doubt it. I couldn’t unhorse you at the Windsor tourney all those years ago.’

‘You were inexperienced at jousting, Thomas, but you came the closest. It took weeks for our bruises to heal after you near battered your Prince to his knees. No, it wasn’t the tournament here. We spend our time travelling to every town to give constant reassurance to the Gascon lords. We are impatient, Thomas. Protocol and diplomacy are better suited to others. But we have our duty. The constant journeying aggravates the malaise. It is nothing.’

‘One of my captains was wounded fighting de Hayle’s men and that led me to another town where I paid ransom for a Jewish physician. Halif ben Josef served your friend and ally the Captal de Buch. The man has great skills. Will you allow him to attend you?’