When the wall around their chateau came into view he waved his hat at it. Le Mans was less humid than Paris, and the chateau was on a slight hill where it enjoyed a view of the countryside around it and a light, cool breeze. Henry and Guillaume walked beside their father up the stone staircase to the sleeping chambers, each steadying an elbow. ‘I’m alright. I’m fine,’ he said. But as soon as he entered the chamber he collapsed onto the bed without removing his boots. Henry summoned the family physician, who arrived and sat beside his father. Geoffrey had once taken him hunting in the ducal forest, and among the man’s most prized possessions were the antlers of a stag taken that day. He felt the Old Duke’s pulses, looked into his eyes and at his tongue and lay his head against his chest. ‘Cough,’ he said. He asked Geoffrey to piss into a flask, which he took to the unshuttered window to examine for colour and smell. ‘Your humours seem in good working order.’ He pulled back the sheet to look at Geoffrey’s ankle and foot.
