Charles stood up to go. ‘I shall revenge this affront,’ he said forcefully.
Ned looked around the assembled Huguenot leaders and saw, by stance and by facial expressions, that many of them were inclined to believe in the king’s sincerity, and at least give him a chance to prevent bloodshed.
The king swept out of the room. As Queen Caterina followed him, she caught Ned’s eye. He gave the tiniest of nods, to thank her for keeping the peace by bringing the king here, and for an instant the corners of her mouth twitched in an almost imperceptible smile of acknowledgement.
*
NED SPENT MUCHof Saturday encoding a long letter from Walsingham to Queen Elizabeth, detailing the events of a worrying week and Queen Caterina’s struggle to keep the peace. He finished late on Saturday afternoon, then left the embassy and headed for the rue de la Serpente.
It was a warm evening, and crowds of young men were drinking outside the taverns, jeering at passing beggars, whistling at girls, no different from boisterous lads in Kingsbridge with money in their pockets and energy to spare. There would be fights later: there always were on Saturday night. But Ned saw no conspicuous Huguenots. They were sensibly staying off the streets, it seemed, probably having supper at home behind locked doors. With luck, a riot would be avoided tonight. And tomorrow was Sunday.
Ned sat in the back of the shop with Sylvie and Isabelle. They told him that Pierre Aumande had visited them. ‘We thought he had forgotten about us,’ Isabelle said anxiously. ‘We don’t know how he found us.’
‘I do,’ Ned said, feeling guilty. ‘One of his men has been following me. I must have led him here when I came for dinner last week. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was being watched, but I found out after I left here.’
Sylvie said: ‘How do you know the man following you worked for Pierre?’
‘I knocked him down and put my knife to his neck and said I’d cut his throat unless he told me.’
‘Oh.’
The two women were silent for a minute, and Ned realized that until now they had not pictured him involved in violent action. Eventually, he broke the silence by saying: ‘What do you think Pierre will do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sylvie said. ‘I’ll have to be extra careful for a while.’
Ned described the scene when the king visited the wounded Coligny. Sylvie immediately focussed on the notion of a list of Protestants with their assigned killers. ‘If the duke of Guise has such a list, it must have been made by Pierre,’ she said.
‘I don’t know, but it seems likely,’ said Ned. ‘He’s obviously the duke’s chief spy.’
‘In that case,’ said Sylvie, ‘I know where the list is.’
Ned sat up. ‘Do you?’ he said. ‘Where?’
‘He has a notebook he keeps at his house. He thinks it’s safer there than at the Guise palace.’
‘Have you seen it?’
Sylvie nodded. ‘Many times. It’s how I know which Protestants are in danger.’
Ned was intrigued. So that was where she got her information.
Sylvie added: ‘But it has never included a list of murderers.’
‘Could I see it?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Now?’
‘I can’t be sure, but Saturday evening is usually a good time. Let’s try.’ Sylvie stood up.
Isabelle protested: ‘It’s not safe on the streets. The city is full of angry men, and they’re all drinking. Stay home.’
‘Mother, our friends may be murdered. We have to warn them.’
‘Then, for God’s sake, be careful.’
It was not yet dark when Ned and Sylvie left the shop and crossed the Île de la Cité. The dark mass of the cathedral brooded over the troubled city in the evening light. Reaching the right bank, Sylvie led Ned through the close-packed houses of Les Halles to a tavern next to the church of St Étienne.
