Bontemps continued to wipe the boy’s brow. “They must continue their work. They are the King’s men. The best doctors in the land.”

“Father, please.” The boy grabbed his father’s hand and squeezed it as the blade moved to his ankle. “Please. Tell me a story.” The blade sliced into the boy’s ankle and the boy whimpered. Blood flowed into the bowl.

“Once upon a time,” said Bontemps, keeping his voice as steady as he could, “there was a great and glorious King who lived in a beautiful palace in the middle of a forest. His first valet was an honest man who served the King with all his heart. The position came to him by his father, just as one day, he will pass it on…to you.”

“I will work for the King? What will I do?”

Bontemps touched his son’s fevered cheek. “You will be the first man the King sees in the morning and the last he sees at night. You will anticipate his every need so he might continue on his course of greatness with singular courage and purpose. You will meet no other man so wise, kind, and generous. You will be the luckiest man in the world, my son. You will be one of the few to truly know the King’s most private mind. Then one day, you will tell your own son of your journey and pass these blessings on to him.”

The boy licked his dry lips and in a voice only a father could hear, said, “But if I live with the King, when will I ever come home?”

The whorehouse in Epernon was no different from any whorehouse in any city. While they provided herbs, drugs, and other minor medical treatments, the main treatment was providing men with stinking, hairy cunts and wet, painted lips, both equally adept at sucking hot, angry desire from men with a few coins to spare.

With a bit of questioning, Fabien had learned that the cheating exciseman was taking “treatment” at this whorehouse.

Fabien had traveled the forty-seven kilometers to Epernon with guards, a leather satchel, and a hatchet. Along the way he’d thought about the King and the threats on his life. Fabien was certain the Spanish had someone inside the court favorable to their cause. He thought about the cipher he’d confiscated from the would-be assassins and the fact that it had still not been translated. He thought about the bald, cheating exciseman and how he wanted the task of dealing with him over and done with.