Beast’s face takes on a rapt look. “They say to lie with a handmaiden of Death is the sweetest end imaginable.”
“They do?” Duval looks momentarily surprised. which is nothing to how I feel at this announcement. No one at the convent has thought to mention this to me.
De Lornay shakes his head. “That is but a rumor,” he says with great authority.
The other two turn to look at him.
He shrugs. “I didn’t realize she was from the convent until the next morning, when the corrupt commander was found dead.”
Although it is small of me, I cannot help but wonder who he has lain with. Sybella? Or one of the older initiates?
"Enough.” Duval holds up his hand. “I would have your news from the english king.”
Beast’s face grows somber. “He would not speak to us himself,” he says.
“Or so his chancellor claimed,” de Lornay adds. "We could never be sure which it was.”
"Either way, official channels were closed to us.”
"What about unofficial channels?”
“Ah, that is where we learned much, and most of it contradictory.” There is a long moment of silence, then Beast speaks. “The english king is considering an offer from the French regent. She will pay him an annual pension if he will not stand in the way of France invading Brittany.”
Duval strikes the table with his fist, making us all jump. "Even after all the aid we gave him in his struggle for the crown?”
Beast nods. "Even after.”
“There is some good news,” de Lornay offers.
“It would have to be very good to counter that,” Duval says.
"Well, for one, the French regent is reluctant to pay the fifty thousand crowns the king is asking for. But more important, the english king let it be known that he would put aside the negotiations and lend us aid if we would give him the four Breton cities the French still hold.”
Duval lifts his goblet and studies it. "Everyone has a price, it seems.” He falls silent a moment, then shakes his head. “I fear the age of kingdoms and duchies is coming to an end. France is eating its way through europe like a beggar at a banquet.” He leans back and fixes his companions with a considering gaze. “The French regent is doing her best to outfox our every attempt to join with our allies. The question is, is she simply being cautious and anticipating our moves? Or does she have specific knowledge of our plans?”
Beast and de Lornay exchange a look. “I thought we were the only ones who knew our plans, outside of the Privy Council.”
"Exactly,” Duval says, "Which is what makes it such a burning question. If someone is feeding our secrets to the French, it is one of Anne’s closest advisors. And now we must wonder if that traitor is the same one who called this estate meeting or if there is a second traitor we must deal with.”
They all digest this somber question in silence, then Duval lifts his goblet and drains it, grimacing at the dregs he’d forgotten in the bottom. “To bed, I think. we’ve an early start.”
They stand up and clatter out of the room, and I turn and begin making my way back to my own chamber. I had hoped to learn something that incriminated Duval. Instead, I have learned just the opposite. even when I am not present, his story is the same.
why, then, would he not discuss this in front of me? Unless he truly does not trust the convent? I bite back a sigh of frustration. Things would be much easier if I could just prove him traitor and be done with it. But no matter how I turn each word and gesture upside down, looking for hidden meaning and betrayal, I can find none.
We are up early and on the road before dawn. Duval has sent Beast and de Lornay on ahead. I know that he chafes at our slower pace, but there is naught I can do about it.
Recent rains have made the countryside wet and muddy, which further hampers our progress. As dusk falls, it becomes clear that in spite of Duval’s best efforts, we will not make Guérande by nightfall. Resigned, he turns off the main road and heads toward La Roche Bernard.
La Roche Bernard sits on a rocky outcropping overlooking the Vilaine River. Its greatest feature is the new chateau the Geffoy family built after their last castle had been razed to the ground in the first war of succession.
At the chateau, we are escorted to a great hall filled with rich, colorful tapestries and a roaring fire. A rotund man with sandy hair and beard leans in close to an elegant woman as if he’s hanging on every word she says. when the steward announces us, the woman pulls back and looks demurely into the fireplace, while the gentleman — the baron, I presume — rises to his feet and hurries to greet us.
“Duval! what a pleasant surprise this is,” Baron Geffoy says, but his face gives lie to his words. In truth, there is a harried look about him that has me wondering if Duval isn’t precisely the last person he wishes to see right now. "We are graced with all sorts of visitors from court. Madame Hivern is staying with us for a few days.”