De Vaux, with the queen’s eyes back on him, said, “He was tonsured, yes. In the winter and now. It may have been a deception.”

“You don’t think he was a true cleric? Or a student?”

“I don’t believe so,” said de Vaux.

The queen turned to the man in the yellow robe with the sun disk about his neck. The provost felt a very slight measure of pity for the high cleric. “Now you will speak,” Bianca di Rizzetto said.

Peyre swallowed. “We hold no views as to protecting this man. We never thought he was truly a holy cleric, and he was never a student. He is,” he raised his voice, “a murderous traitor in our view!”

“Did you,” asked the Duke de Regnault, “say this in the winter? After the king’s brother was slain and Barthelmy was identified?”

He knew the answer. The high cleric had not done so. Had opted for silence. And there was silence from him now. Hutin Peyre was learning, de Vaux thought, how dangerous it was to bluster, and that choices had consequences.

“There may be,” said the queen, with a deadly calm in her voice, “some reason to reopen discussions with the High Patriarch in Rhodias about how Orane and the court may be best served by our high cleric.”

As close to a death sentence, or one of dismissal and exile, as royal words could be, without going straight there, Robbin de Vaux thought.

“I assure you of my undying loyalty to Ferrieres!” exclaimed the high cleric.

“Undying,” said the queen, eyebrows raised. “Indeed?”

De Vaux winced on behalf of the other man. A man he intensely disliked, after years of judicial disputes.

Queen Bianca said, “And so we come to the distinguished advocate and orator.” Her disdain for Denis Cassin was palpable. “You will defend him, high cleric?”

Peyre was not a coward. “It is my duty to do so, your grace. Denis Cassin is a genuine cleric, a teacher, part of the university. Not subject to the provost of Orane’s interrogations. This is long-settled law.”

“Have you interrogated him?” It was Regnault again. And again the high cleric fell silent.

“They have not,” de Vaux risked saying. “No one has. To be fair, this has all happened very fast.”

“Perhaps we might start right now, then,” said the queen, briskly. “Messire Cassin, what have you to say about the confession tonight, that your client and patron did order the killing of the king’s brother, an act of treason to Orane?”

Cassin was less visibly brave, de Vaux thought. But he was nimble, effortlessly nimble with words.

The lawyer said, “Your grace, an advocate has a duty to his client. He does not embrace that client’s actions or views! The duke had written to admit the actions, had denied legal and ethical fault.”