He had seen dead men before. He always carried a knife, had stabbed people himself. Once, memorably, with consequences. But this came near to making him throw up what he’d eaten and drunk at dinner.

“You’ve looked in that house?” the provost asked, gesturing towards the still-open stable gate nearby.

One of the duke’s surviving guards confirmed it. He looked stricken, lost, terrified. All appropriate, as far as Thierry was concerned.

“Nothing to see?”

“Not much, my lord provost,” the man said. A voice barely above a whisper. “Signs of occupation. Neighbours say a large party moved in two days ago.”

“Two days? Descriptions?”

“We haven’t had a chance to talk properly to anyone yet, my lord. We also thought we should…” He trailed off.

“You thought to leave it for us. Very well. Your name?”

“Guiene, my lord. Claquin Guiene.”

“And you survived because?”

“Four of us have, my lord. The assassins did…what they did…very quickly. Then they fled, my lord.”

“Which way?”

Guiene pointed up the street, away from the river, towards where the queen’s house lay. “They turned east at Goldsmiths Lane and three of us pursued.”

“They were horsed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Livery?”

“I couldn’t tell, my lord. It was…it is very dark. It happened so fast. And very…”

“And very violently. Yes. You stayed here?”

“To guard the bodies, my lord.”

“You commanded this night guard of the duke?”

“I did. I…do.” Guiene could hardly speak.

“Very well. You will give my serjeants your most precise description of what you saw, what happened. Is there a house here we can use?”

“The same one they did?”

“No. I’ll want a closer look at that in the morning. No one is to go inside now.”

“We can get the people on the other side to open their shopfront for us.”

“Good.” De Vaux turned to the serjeant behind him. “Do it, Medor. Wake them if they are asleep. I doubt anyone is. We’ll need to talk to them all.”

“My lord,” said the well-built man named Medor, “Aubrey found this, up the street.” Medor was one of those holding a torch. Another serjeant held out a metal object, with sharp spikes protruding.

The provost stared at it. Then nodded. “Wait for light, then look for more. They’ll signal a direction. Aubrey, have the city gates on this side of the river closed. Ask the guards there if anyone went through on horseback already. Medor, this street is also to be closed off, below us towards the river, and all the way to the end above.”

The queen’s house was at the end. Thierry wondered if she was awake. If the provost was going to wake her. Or let the morning and tidings of horror do that.

“Villar,” the provost said. “Nearest tavern? The Mule?”

“No, my lord. Two or three are nearer.”

“You are known in them?”