Someone was jostling him, shaking him, causing his head to rattle. His eyes snapped open. Claudine knelt beside him, her face drawn up in worry. She probed his face with her thumbs and felt his hands.

Fabien coughed then heaved vomit onto the floor. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Have I been poisoned?”

“I believe so.”

“By what?”

“The symptoms I see indicate the main ingredient was arsenic.”

Beatrice helped Fabien to a chair at the table, where he leaned over and vomited again into a bucket Claudine hastened into place. He groaned. “Will I live?”

“If I can find an antidote. But first I must apply an herbal salve to your eyes. It is the only way to save your sight.”

Fabien nodded with effort. “No one must know I came here.”

“Very well.”

Claudine ground dried herbs from a rack over the stove then brought the paste and a cup of brown liquid to the table. She handed the cup to Fabien.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Cognac.”

“I don’t drink.”

“This will be beyond any pain you’ve ever known.”

He put the cup down. “Pain holds neither fear nor mystery for me.”

“Prepare yourself, then. Close your eyes.”

With a flat wooden stick, Claudine spread the paste around the rims and then dabbed it directly onto Fabien’s eyes. He sucked air and grit his teeth, and his eyes watered mightily.

“Changed your mind about the cognac?” asked Claudine.

“I told you, I don’t drink.”

Claudine shrugged. She applied the bandages to his eyes and then kneeled down to treat the cuts on his feet.

Certain now that Henriette would recover, Louis gathered with Louvois and Rohan in his outer chamber.

Louvois explained that the prisoners involved in the plot against the King were now in the Bastille, ready for Fabien to question them.

“They will say whatever they think will save their skins,” said Louis, standing by the window with his arms crossed. “The question is, are they acting on their own or is someone behind them pulling the strings?”

“Don’t worry too much about the nobles, Sire,” replied Rohan. “For all the bluster, they are a lazy, cowardly bunch.”

Louis smiled slyly. “Are you not a noble, Rohan?”

“My point exactly. I’m lazy and a notorious coward.”

“If I may suggest, Sire,” said Louvois. “They are traitors and should be executed.”

“What are they saying in the palace salons?”

“They are frightened. Most have a friend or relative imprisoned.”

“Good,” said Louis. “I want them to be frightened.”

Bontemps entered and Louis motioned him over. He whispered into the King’s ear. “Your visitor has arrived, Sire.”

“Take him to the War Cabinet room.”

Surprised, Bontemps said, “But, Sire –”

“I want him to see the plans for the palace. Our visitor is a lover of architecture.”

Bontemps bowed and withdrew. Louis turned back to Rohan and Louvois.

“I believe you should release the prisoners, Sire,” said Rohan.