Time went by without talk. Alfo eventually stopped crying. He sucked his thumb, staring at Barney.
Bella closed her eyes. That’s good, Barney thought. She’s resting.
Sleep well, my love.
19
Sylvie was busy – dangerously so.
Paris was full of Huguenots who had come for the royal wedding, and they bought a lot of paper and ink at the shop in the rue de la Serpente. They also wanted illegal books – not just the Bible in French, but the inflammatory works of John Calvin and Martin Luther attacking the Catholic Church. Sylvie was run off her feet going to the warehouse in the rue du Mur and delivering the contraband books to Protestant homes and lodging houses all over Paris.
And it all had to be done with total discretion. She was used to it, but not at this level of activity. She was risking arrest three times a day instead of three times a week. The increased strain was exhausting.
Spending time with Ned was like resting in an oasis of calm and security. He showed concern, not anxiety. He never panicked. He thought she was brave – in fact, he said she was a hero. She was pleased by his admiration, even though she knew she was just a scared girl.
On his third visit to the shop, her mother told him their real names and asked him to stay for midday dinner.
Isabelle had not consulted Sylvie about this. She just did it, taking Sylvie by surprise. Ned accepted readily. Sylvie was a bit taken aback, but pleased.
They closed and locked the street door and retired to the room behind the shop. Isabelle cooked fresh river trout, caught that morning, with marrow and aromatic fennel, and Ned ate heartily. Afterwards, she produced a bowl of greengages, yellow with red speckles, and a bottle of golden-brown brandy. They did not normally keep brandy in the house: the two women never drank anything stronger than wine, and they usually diluted that. Obviously Isabelle had quietly planned this meal.
Ned told them the news from the Netherlands, which was bad. ‘Hangest disobeyed Coligny’s orders, walked into an ambush, and was soundly defeated. He’s a prisoner now.’
Isabelle was interested in Ned, not Hangest. ‘How long do you think you’ll stay in Paris?’ she asked.
‘As long as Queen Elizabeth wants me here.’
‘And then I suppose you’ll go home to England?’
‘I’ll probably go wherever the queen wants to send me.’
‘You’re devoted to her.’
‘I feel fortunate to serve her.’
Isabelle switched to another line of enquiry. ‘Are English houses different from French ones?’ she said. ‘Your home, for example?’
‘I was born in a big house opposite Kingsbridge Cathedral. Now it belongs to my elder brother, Barney, but I live there when I’m in Kingsbridge.’
‘Opposite the cathedral – that must be a pleasant location.’
‘It’s a wonderful spot. I love to sit in the front parlour and look out at the church.’
‘What was your father?’
Sylvie protested: ‘Mother, you sound like the Inquisition!’
‘I don’t mind,’ Ned said. ‘My father was a merchant with a warehouse in Calais, and after he died, my mother ran the business for ten years.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But she lost everything after you French took back Calais from us English.’
‘Are there any French people in Kingsbridge?’
‘Persecuted Huguenots have sought asylum all over England. Guillaume Forneron has a factory making cambric in the suburb of Loversfield. Everyone wants a shirt from Forneron.’
‘And your brother, what’s his living?’
‘He’s a sea captain. He has a ship calledAlice.’
‘His own vessel?’
