“And so, your grace, lords and ladies of this noble court, clerics of piety and renown, I say to you now, with holy Jad as my witness, that rather than falsely accusing the Duke de Barratin of treachery, as some here have done”—he looked directly at the provost—“we ought to be extending our grateful appreciation that he stepped forward bravely to protect us all from terrible danger. And that he has a considerable force to bring to bear upon…ah, on behalf of…our beloved Ferrieres, in darkly challenging times. Times,” he added, soberly, judiciously, “are always challenging, but perhaps never more so than now.”

He nodded once, to show he was done. He bowed to the queen, seemingly oblivious to the icy gaze she visited upon him, and withdrew to his seat on the bench behind the dais. There was a ripple in the great hall. Thierry judged it one of approval. He knew audiences. In some ways they were all the same.

“Jad rot the soul he doesn’t have!” Medor muttered beside him.

Thierry looked at him. Medor was staring at where Denis Cassin was settling himself like a hen upon eggs. The advocate gestured and was brought a cup of wine. He took a sip. Didn’t smile, but looked as if he was close to doing that.

“He’s speaking from power to power,” Thierry said softly. He saw de Vaux, in the row ahead of them, tilt his head back to listen. “He did what he was hired to do, what we could have expected him to do. Did it well. Now we see the other two, how they balance this.”

Except, for reasons that became increasingly, painfully clear, that did not happen.

It ought to have been anticipated, really, the provost said afterwards. The two senior dukes, neither young, neither a war leader, neither known for political ambition—or courage—had evidently come to a pragmatic understanding. They might, de Vaux had added, even have prided themselves on acting for the good of Ferrieres. Avoiding a civil war, with the Anglcyn hovering, poised to invade.

They might, he added again, have been correct.

Only one of the dukes’ two advocates spoke in reply to Denis Cassin. If you could call it a reply. He began by applauding Cassin’s learned invoking of Aristimedes. He then spoke, at some length, of the need to be aware of the examples of the past as guides to proper conduct in the present day. Historical knowledge, he suggested, was always of value. He actually turned then and bowed to Cassin, who rose and returned the bow.

It was all very cordial. Theatre.

The only thing the speaker said—the closest he got to directly addressing Cassin and the man for whom he’d spoken—was to suggest that each case of violence needed to be considered on its own merits, as legal precedents all agreed.