Thierry said, as quietly, finding it difficult to speak now, “See that some of my poems are published, if you can.”

Of all people to ask, he thought. It should have been amusing. It didn’t feel so. He looked at Marina di Seressa across the open space, behind the queen. Saw that she had one hand over her mouth, and that she was crying. He didn’t understand that. His thoughts weren’t especially clear at the moment.

De Vaux offered a bitter chuckle. “I’m likely to be hanged beside you, Villar. I’ve lived a decently long life.”

“I haven’t,” said Thierry.

De Vaux looked at him.

“You should leave the city,” said Medor. “Both of you.”

“No,” said the provost.

“No,” said Thierry Villar.

—

Acting with unusual speed, the royal council of Ferrieres, coordinating with the high cleric of Orane, came to a decision that could only be described as judicious. It satisfied no one, really, which is often the mark of careful proceeding in a challenging, dangerous matter.

The Duke de Barratin was exiled from the city and the court for a year. If he chose to ignore that, to bring an army and return, well, that would mean war—by his choice, his exposed ambition. Everyone would know it.

On the other hand, he was offered amnesty if he did one additional thing. Barratin was instructed, on pain of expulsion from the rites of Jad, and his immortal soul being lost to eternal darkness, to make a pilgrimage to Rhodias. There to seek audience and kneel before the High Patriarch, offer contrition, and beg forgiveness and absolution for his crime.

Immortal souls mattered, to everyone. And the High Patriarch, and even his appointed senior clerics in different countries, had real power concerning those.

Eternity was a long time. Darkness was darkness.

—

That night, the same sort of mob that had tried to burn down the home of the Duke de Barratin, including many of the same people, went to the equally handsome city palace of the murdered Duke de Montereau.

The elegant speech of Denis Cassin, abetted by a number of strategically placed people to relay the essence of it quickly through Orane, had its desired effect. Mobs were threats to the powerful—or tools to be used.

The serjeants and the court guards, and the guards of the slain duke were, however, ready. No damage was done, although there was considerable violence in the square outside the gates and courtyard of the home. Some in the crowd were killed. More arrests were made. There were executions of the common folk again. Seventeen of them this time.

Gallows Hill’s birds of prey were busy in those days.

Part II

Chapter VIII