“But knowing this, we can stop him. We have over eight thousand troops stationed here in Rennes, more than a match for a handful of his,” Dunois says.
“Are you certain? Do you know every one of your men by sight, Captain? Is it not within those very numbers than many of d’Albret’s saboteurs can hide unnoticed?”
The captain clenches his jaw but says nothing, so I continue. “I do not think you understand the true nature of his ruthlessness. He will show no mercy. The war he will wage is intended to sap the courage from men’s hearts. He will take no prisoners, grant no quarter, collect no ransom.”
“That goes against all rules of war and honorable conduct, demoiselle, and is a most grave accusation,” Chancellor Montauban says. “I assume you have good reason to make it.”
Disappointment as bitter as acid rises in my gut. Why did I think they would believe me?
“She does.” It is the duchess who has spoken, and all in the room turn to look at her. “Do not forget, this man tried to entrap me when we parleyed in good faith with Marshal Rieux. That is not the mark of a man who respects the rules of engagement. Further, he did try to accost me in the halls of Guérande—would have succeeded if Ismae had not stopped him.”
This shocks nearly everyone in the room—everyone except Ismae, Duval, and Beast.
“Are you certain you did not misunderstand his intention, Your Grace?” the bishop asks, and I want to slap his soft, white jowls.
“I am certain,” she says shortly.
While everyone is reeling from this revelation, I decide to try a new approach. “May I tell you of how they took Nantes?” I ask, my voice deceptively sweet.
“By all means, demoiselle,” Captain Dunois says. “I would very much like to hear it.”
“Very well.” I take a fortifying sip of the wine, then begin. “With Marshal Rieux at the head of our column, we were welcomed by the city with open arms. At first they thought the duchess had returned, and while they were disappointed she was not among the party, they did not understand the full treachery that was taking place.
“Once d’Albret and Rieux gained the castle, they bolted the doors and gave the retainers a choice. At the point of a sword. They could renounce the duchess and live. That was their only choice.”
I stare into the flames burning in the fireplace. “Lords Roscoff and Vitre died that night. Lords Mathurin, Julliers, Vienne, and Blaine renounced the duchess and swore loyalty to d’Albret and Marshal Rieux.” I glance up and meet the duchess’s stricken eyes. “Your humbler servants were more loyal, Your Grace. A full half of them lost their lives that day.
“When a contingent of burghers arrived from the city demanding to know what was going on, troops were sent into town to rape their wives and daughters, thus ensuring their cooperation. It did not take long for d’Albret to exert his will and his own special brand of terror over the entire city.”
The duchess has gone white as a corpse. When she lifts her hand to her temple, I see that it is trembling. “My poor people,” she whispers. “All those deaths are on my conscience.”
“No,” snaps Duval. “They are on d’Albret’s conscience, not yours.”
Jean de Chalon speaks for the first time. “Such ruthlessness can be a great asset when it is wielded for one’s own side. Given his ruthlessness and how much the French fear an alliance between you and the count, perhaps that alliance is your best hope for keeping the duchy independent.”
The duchess appears to shrink in on herself, looking smaller and younger. “How wrong is it of me to expect my people to suffer so that I will not have to? I cannot let such violence and death spill over into the entire kingdom just so I can avoid an unpleasant marriage.”
“No!” Duval, Beast, and I all shout at once. There is a moment of awkward silence and I stare at my hands while Duval continues. “You will not marry that brute.”
“You are speaking as a loving brother, Duval, not as a clear-eyed councilor,” the bishop points out. “Perhaps that is our best course of action.”
I want to grab all these men by the shoulders, shake them until their teeth rattle, then ask them how they can be so cursedly blind. A rumbling begins building deep inside me, outrage that these men would so willingly consign this girl to a man such as d’Albret. It is just as it ever was: men of power are unwilling to believe anything ill of their own kind.
Suddenly, the weight of my own secrets nearly chokes me. If ever there was a reason to break the long years of silence, this is it—to prevent this innocent girl from becoming one of d’Albret’s newest victims. To prevent such a monster from becoming ruler of the entire kingdom.
I am so desperate for them to understand the evil nature of this man that I do the unthinkable: I open my mouth and spill the secrets that I have kept for years. “Have you ever asked yourselves what became of the count’s wives?” My throat tightens, as if my body is refusing to utter the words it has kept guarded and locked all this time. The knowledge I share will also raise questions, questions I’d rather not answer in front of Beast. But I cannot keep my secrets if the cost is the young woman before me.
“D’Albret is not just ruthless in battle and merciless in victory. He is a true monster.” I must reach deep for the next words, for they are buried far beneath the surface of daily thought. Indeed, some of the memories remain locked away even from me. “D’Albret murdered all six of his former wives. Surely you would not consign your own duchess to such a fate.”
In the long moment of silence that follows, the shock of what I have just done runs through my body. I am hot, then cold, then hot again. I half believe that d’Albret will somehow know what I have said, and I must remind myself that he is twenty leagues away.
By the grim look on Duval’s face, I see that he at least believes me. But not the others. Their faces are full of incredulity. Chancellor Montauban speaks. “It could be that his actions have been misinterpreted or misunderstood and these are but disgruntled rumors started by those who have suffered defeat at d’Albret’s hands.”
When I answer, my voice is colder than the winter sea. “I am an assassin trained, my lord Chancellor. Not a simpering maid who quails at talk of war.” I consider having them ask Beast, for he will verify the truth of what I say, but it is not my secret to tell. I risk a glance at him and see that he is staring down at his clenched fists.