The Regent tapped her fingers a few times on the desk; her equivalent of pacing and lashing a tail. When she spoke it was to Huon and Yseult:

“Your mother told the Grand Constable that Alex Vinton ‘converted’ them, she and Guelf. Did your mother ever speak in a way that made you think of another religion? Names of saints you’d never heard before, blessing that sounded different, preachers that looked or acted in ways you’d never seen?”

“My mother is a good daughter of the church! She was Catholic long before the Association existed!” Huon said, not shouting but very firmly.

Yseult was silent, remembering a missing rosary, a locket of the Annunciation that wasn’t around Mary’s neck and a gleaming white cloth with white on white counted cross-stitch embroidery. She raised her right hand to touch the medal that Odard had given her. It felt warm, and comforting to the touch.

“Daughter of Gervais?” Sandra said, the voice of implacable power.

“I, I . . . I was embroidering an altar cloth for Mama. The day we were arrested, she was very angry with me because I was sloppy and said she wouldn’t have poor work placed on the . . . I can’t remember just how she said it, but it sounded to me like the altar in Castle Gervais.”

“So, you think your brother is right?”

“It’s, it’s . . . the design. There were symbols I’ve never seen on it. It was very complicated and all counted cross-stitch. Mother would tell me the pattern to embroider and I’d do that piece; but she never gave me the whole thing, or explained. Mother should still have it. Goodwife Romarec, the housekeeper packed it in with Mother’s stuff.”

“Ah. That is information of some value, which must be looked into. But she didn’t teach you anything, bless you, present you for baptism in an unorthodox cult?”

Yseult shook her head. “Nothing like that.” She hesitated. “But that day . . . that day I noticed she didn’t have her rosary hanging from her belt. I’d, I’ve spent hours trying to remember when was the last time I saw it . . . and it was the day my brother left. She took it off after leaving chapel and . . . sort of spilled it from one hand to the other before tucking it into her pocket. And I can’t remember seeing it ever again. Or her locket of the Annunciation that Papa gave her, years and years ago.”

Huon turned to Yseult. “Really?” he asked, his voice cracking, “Really? She wasn’t a good daughter of Mother Church? She was so proud of being a true . . .”

His voice fell to a half sob. Yseult squeezed his hand, but shook her head sadly.