Outside the church he spoke to Gaspard de Coligny, the Huguenot general. They may have intended no offence, but their casual manner gave the impression that they were disdaining the service going on inside. That was certainly what the crowd felt, and they began to shout protests. Then they started their victory chant:
Hang-est!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Hang-est!
Ha! Ha! Ha!
This was infuriating to the Huguenots whose leaders were being tortured in the dungeons of the duke of Alba.
The notables in the stand were milling around, chatting, but as the chanting grew, their conversations tailed off and they looked around anxiously.
A group of Huguenots on the roof of a nearby house retaliated by singing a psalm, and other voices joined in. In the crowd on the ground, a few young toughs began to move towards the house.
The scene had all the makings of a riot. If that happened, the pacific effect of the marriage could be reversed.
Ned spotted Walsingham’s friend the marquess of Lagny, in his jewelled cap, and spoke to him urgently. ‘Can’t you stop those Huguenots singing?’ he said. ‘It enrages the crowd. We’ll lose all we’ve gained if there’s a riot.’
Lagny said: ‘I could stop the singing, if the Catholics would stop chanting.’
Ned looked around for a friendly Catholic and saw Aphrodite Beaulieu. He buttonholed her and said: ‘Can you get a priest or someone to stop the crowd doing the Hangest chant? We’re heading for a nasty disturbance.’
She was a sensible girl and saw the danger. ‘I’ll go into the church and speak to my father,’ she said.
Ned’s eye lit on Henri of Bourbon and Gaspard de Coligny and he realized they were the root of the problem. He went back to Lagny. ‘Could you tell those two to make themselves scarce?’ he said. ‘I’m sure they don’t mean it, but they’re provoking the crowd.’
Lagny nodded. ‘I’ll speak to them. Neither of them wants trouble.’
A couple of minutes later, Henri and Gaspard disappeared into the archbishop’s palace. A priest came out of the cathedral and told the crowd that they were disturbing the Mass, and the chanting subsided. The Huguenots on the rooftops ceased their singing. The square became quiet.
The crisis was over, Ned thought – for now.
*
THE WEDDING WASfollowed by three days of lavish celebrations, but no riots. Pierre was bitterly disappointed.
There were street fights and tavern brawls, as exultant Protestants clashed with furious Catholics, but none of the affrays turned into the city-wide battle he was hoping for.
Queen Caterina did not have the stomach for a violent confrontation. Coligny, like all the more cunning Huguenots, believed his best strategy was to avoid bloodshed. Together, milk-and-water moderates on both sides kept the peace.
The Guise family were desperate. They saw power and prestige slipping away from them permanently. Then Pierre came up with a plan.
They were going to assassinate Gaspard de Coligny.
On Thursday, as the nobility attended the tournament that was the climax of the festivities, Pierre stood with Georges Biron in one of the medieval rooms in the old part of the Louvre palace. The floors were dirt and the walls were rough stone.
Biron moved a table to a window for better light. He was carrying a canvas bag, and now he took from it a long-barrelled firearm.
‘It’s an arquebus,’ said Pierre. ‘But with two barrels, one below the other.’
‘So if he misses Coligny with the first ball, he has a second chance.’
‘Very good.’
Biron pointed to the trigger mechanism. ‘It has a wheel-lock firing action.’
‘Self-igniting, then. But will it kill him?’
