De Vaux kept his voice level. “Majesty, I am neither of the court nor of the army anymore. My task is peace and justice in this city. I was charged by my office with finding who murdered the Duke de Montereau, and to report this here. I have now done so. If there is war, with anyone at all, my sword and my life are at the service of Ferrieres, to death. Decisions beyond that are for others to make.”

“Understood,” said the queen. “But I am asking for your view, as an adviser to the court.”

De Vaux looked, again, deeply uneasy. He cleared his throat. He said, “We have confessions from those in the Châtelet and—”

“Were they among the killers of the duke?” Regnault again.

“No, my lord. But they saw them being assembled, and they saw them return to the Barratin palace that night, then leave the city before sunrise.”

“They saw them leave the city?” Regnault was being very precise.

De Vaux said, “Thank you, my lord. No. They saw them leave the duke’s palace. My serjeants confirmed with the guards at the wall that ten or twelve armed men rode out.”

“They let them do that?” demanded the queen. Poison in her voice again, Thierry thought.

“Two men were struck down trying to stop them, your grace,” de Vaux said quietly. “They are dead.”

There was a silence.

The Duke de Barille said, as if against his will, “You have those statements and we have…this letter. There is no attempt being made to hide this. He will seek to justify it, he says.”

“By savagely maligning a murdered lord,” said Queen Bianca. “Is that how this is to happen? Because Barratin has an army in the east? Provost, I am still waiting for your counsel.”

De Vaux was pale now, Thierry saw. He felt faint himself. What was he doing here? The provost said, “A large army is a very great thing, your grace, in the times in which we live. The king of the Anglcyn may be across the channel north, but he has forces on our land, and fortresses here he occupies, and his informers are everywhere in Ferrieres. He will know all of this very soon.”

“So Laurent de Barratin succeeds?” said Queen Bianca bitterly. “He wins a battle for power by killing Rollin like a dog in the street? Is that where Ferrieres is now? Is it what we are?”

No one spoke. No one seemed about to speak, to answer a terrible question.

Thierry Villar cleared his throat softly. The provost heard. Looked over his shoulder, his brow knitted. Later Thierry would decide it might have been fear on his behalf. But de Vaux said, “Yes, counsellor?”

Counsellor?