De Vaux sighed. “I have no idea what to do with that man.”

“Well, if you don’t, I certainly don’t.”

A snort of laughter.

Thierry took a chance. “What has happened?”

With almost no hesitation, de Vaux said, “Barratin has raised an army. He is about ten days from here, maybe a little more.”

Thierry swallowed hard. It took him time to form words. The bells were silent. Had done their task, marking the hour. He stammered, “What…what does he want?”

“He may want the throne,” de Vaux said, calmly enough. “It seems King Roch elected to ignore his letters demanding he be restored to the royal council.”

“Demanding?”

The constable nodded, as if Thierry had asked the right question.

“I saw both letters today. I’d not have called them a demand myself, but I’d also say they weren’t far from that. And the king saw them that way.”

Thierry sighed. “This isn’t going to end, is it?”

The constable looked at him, and shook his head. “Maybe. It can. But I don’t know how.”

Chapter XVI

He didn’t really want to kill the king.

Another assassination might be too much for Ferrieres and the wider world, let alone for Jad and his own soul. There was much to think about.

Because, on the other hand, could it not be argued that doing so, then moving swiftly to claim power and ensure peace, would save many lives, leave a country to carry on…villages unharmed, men and women not slaughtered, fields and vineyards intact, to be harvested soon? People grateful to him for this mercy?

The Duke de Barratin, normally sure of his judgments, swift with them, was still uncertain as he assembled his army outside his city of Berga.

Then they started west. Towards Orane.

Their route was a series of roads and towns he knew well. He’d done this journey so many times. He prayed as they went, morning rites and sundown rites, holding a new golden sun disk, and he stopped at many sanctuaries. He didn’t normally do that. Was he getting older? Some men began to think about their souls more as they aged, it was known.

But he held to his earlier thought through the long summer days: you could not ignore courteous letters. Not from him, not even if you were the king of Ferrieres. The dukes of Barratin were too long-established, had too much power, and he was family.

And he’d been courteous! Had only petitioned to be allowed back among the king’s advisers, among his own uncles and cousins. It wasn’t as if Laurent was the only man ever to have killed a rival for power! (He didn’t say that.)