Tomas, Cassel’s thug, lay unconscious on the table in Masson’s kitchen, the stub of his amputated leg charred black so he wouldn’t bleed to death. Claudine watched him closely as her father sat in his chair, nervously picking at the skin on his knuckles. Fabien stared at Claudine and then Tomas. Claudine knew the peril she faced should the man on the table die.

But then Tomas’ eyelid fluttered. He coughed, moaned, and blinked. Claudine saw in his eyes the realization of what had happened and the mortal danger he now faced. With his broken hand he beckoned Claudine closer and then he whispered, “Help me, please.”

Fabien stepped closer to the table and stared at his captive. “Impressive,” he said. “I shall call him Lazarus. And you, woman. I do not yet know what I shall call you.” Then he went to the box on the counter and took out a scalpel.

“Who is this man?” asked Claudine. “What did he do to you?”

Fabien brought the scalpel back to the table and held it up so that it reflected the light of the kitchen. Tomas struggled to get up but Fabien put his hand on the man’s chest and held him down.

“He’s done nothing. Said nothing,” said Fabien.

“Do not undo the work –” began Claudine.

“Quiet,” said Fabien. Then he leaned in to Tomas and put the scalpel close to his face. “Charlotte Parthenay died in my arms. Your musket, was it?”

“I didn’t kill her,” said Tomas.

“But you were there. Who did?”

“I did not see!”

“Well, then. If you were not looking, you won’t need this, will you?” With that, Fabien drove the scalpel into the socket of Tomas’ remaining eye. Tomas screamed and thrashed. Fabien worked the scalpel around and cut the eye out. He handed it to Claudine, who stared at it, horrified. “For your collection.”

“Please!” said Claudine. “Let him live.”

“I promise I will. I just need him to answer a simple question.”

“Give me your word!”

“I give you my word. I will let him live.” Then Fabien leaned over Tomas again. The man’s eyelids flapped uselessly over the raw, bleeding sockets in his face. He drooled and whimpered. “Whom do you serve?”

Tomas caught his breath. “The King.”

“Yes, yes. But who is your Lord? To whom have you sworn your oath?” He pressed the tip of the scalpel on Tomas’ throbbing jugular.

“Cassel!” said Tomas. “Duc de Cassel.”

“Thank you,” said Fabien. Then he slashed Tomas’ neck, opening the artery. Tomas wailed again and bled out on the table.

Claudine raised her hands in horror. “You promised me! You said you would let him live!”

“And I did. I let him live an extra three seconds. I’m a man of my word.”