Conspiracy. S. J. Parris
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was sincere. Did he know anything of my conversation with Paul, or was his reference to reconciliation mere coincidence? And if he did know, had he learned it from a letter found in Paul’s lodgings or on his battered body? I thought again of the priest and the dwarf, and who might have sent them.
‘Guise is not a fool,’ I said.
‘Neither am I.’ His expression hardened. ‘I won’t force you to do this, Bruno. I’m offering you an opportunity to return to my service. It’s the only position I have available, so it’s your choice.’ He turned his back to make the point: I guessed that if I refused, I could say goodbye to any prospect of future patronage. Spots of rain blew against my face. I tried again.
‘I’m not convinced I am the man for this job, Your Majesty.’
‘Please yourself, then.’ He affected indifference and moved towards the door, before glancing over his shoulder. ‘Oh, a funny coincidence – almost slipped my mind. A friend of yours from England called on me a while back. Wanted to sell me a book.’
He knew immediately from my face that he had hit his mark.
‘A man with no ears?’ I asked. ‘In August, was it?’
‘No ears? A common criminal, you mean? Certainly not. Goodness, what company have you been keeping, Bruno?’ He feigned shock. ‘No, this was last summer, more than a twelvemonth past. An exceptionally pretty boy. Ah, I see you know who I mean.’ His lips curved slowly into a smile. He had saved his best card till last. I cursed him for it silently.
‘And, what …?’
‘The guards sent him on his way at first. There are so many hawkers at the gates, as you may imagine. But this one was remarkably persistent. Came back day after day, saying you’d told him to bring me this volume. Claimed it was both valuable and inflammatory. Eventually Ruggieri heard about it. He has spies all over the palace.’ He rolled his eyes, to show that this was one more trial he was obliged to endure. My heart dropped. For more than a year I had been clinging to one last shred of hope that the book in question might have found its way to the court in Paris. To learn that it should have come so far, only to fall into the hands of Cosimo Ruggieri, that Florentine serpent, was galling. He would never give it up willingly to me.
‘Ruggieri brought the boy to you?’
‘Of course not. You think he’d get his hands on a book like that and offer it to me? I knew nothing of it until later. But it seems he was sufficiently convinced that he persuaded my mother to buy it. You know how easily she’s seduced by the prospect of anything esoteric.’
‘It was a book of magic, then?’
‘Ruggieri seemed to think so. He talked her into paying fifty écus for it. I suspect she was robbed. According to her, it’s written in cipher – meaningless, unless you know how to read it. Your young friend must be laughing himself sick now, to think he’s duped everyone twice over.’
Twice over. ‘Did you meet him?’ I asked, trying to keep any trace of eagerness from my voice. Henri gave me a sly smile.
‘Alas, no, though I wish I’d had the pleasure. Ruggieri took him directly to the Tuileries to see Catherine. She only told me about it afterwards. Well, it turned out—’ here he widened his eyes, relishing the performance – ‘this boy wasn’t a boy at all – imagine! Ah, but you knew that. No – she was apparently a girl trying to disguise herself. But quite beautiful either way, I’m told. She swore you had insisted I would want the book. That was what piqued their interest.’ He watched me carefully. I said nothing. ‘Lover, was she?’
‘Acquaintance.’ I clenched my jaw.
Henri laughed. ‘You’re a most adept liar, Bruno, like all Dominicans.’
‘I am no longer a Dominican.’
‘But you’ve learned their lessons well. Did you give her the book as a love-token?’
‘I did not give it to her at all.’
‘So she stole it from you? I did wonder.’ He laughed softly. ‘Bruno outwitted. Well, well. A most resourceful young woman, by the sound of it. Pity she disappeared. I asked my secretary to make enquiries but no luck so far. Perhaps I should ask him to try a little harder.’
‘If the Queen Mother would let me examine the book—’
‘I’ll tell you what, Bruno,’ he said, all brisk and amiable, ‘you can see the book when you bring me some information about this priest. And perhaps by then there’ll be news of your girl as well. How is that for a deal?’
I took a deep breath and bowed. ‘I am yours to command, Majesty.’
‘I do hope so. I have faith in you, Bruno. Don’t let me down.’ He patted my shoulder, his attention already drifting now that he had what he wanted. ‘His name was Père Paul Lefèvre, by the way. The dead priest.’
‘I know. I knew him.’
‘Oh?’ He brushed raindrops from his cheek and looked at me, surprised. ‘Well, that should give you an advantage, then.’
‘Did you?’
‘What?’
‘Know him? Did he …’ I hesitated, ‘ever correspond with you, perhaps?’
Henri frowned, as if he didn’t understand the question. ‘Of course not. You think I have time to exchange letters with every malicious little shit-flinger?’
‘I only wondered if he might have written to you,’ I said, choosing my words carefully. ‘Urging you to repent, warning you, something of that sort.’
He snorted. ‘I might have given him some credit if he’d had the courage to address me directly. But they’re cowards, these Guise lickspittles. Let’s get out of this rain.’
One of the guards picked up the torch from the wall bracket and they followed us in to the staircase at a respectful distance. Our shadows flickered like giant carnival grotesques over the clammy walls as we spiralled down.
‘He was killed outside Saint-Victor, so I was told,’ Henri said, as we reached the first landing, taking out a key to unlock a small door set into the wall. A secret way back to his chambers, no doubt – this old part of the Louvre was full of hidden passages, as if it had been built expressly for spying and adultery. ‘I’d start there if I were you. I think we can safely say I don’t have many supporters among the religious orders. Those friars are all in Guise’s pocket.’
I nodded, and made a non-committal noise. I still had no idea whether the King was lying to me; I hoped he did not intend to direct my steps throughout. I had accepted a poisoned chalice, however I chose to look at it, and my motives for doing so were precisely the two things that had undone me before – a book and a woman. That woman. I should have been wiser.
Henri held out his hand so that I could bow and kiss his signet ring, a gentle reminder of his power to command. ‘One last thing,’ he said, pausing in the doorway. ‘My mother’s putting on one of her grand entertainments next Friday. Improve morale. If our popularity’s flagging, put on a show – you know what she’s like. Remind people of the old days. You must come.’
‘I thought I couldn’t be seen at court?’
‘Ah, but that’s the beauty of it – you won’t be. It’s a masked ball. Everyone will be in costume, faces hidden, no one will have the faintest idea who you are. Say you’ll come. Her women will perform too, if you need more persuading. I’d wager you don’t see anything like that at Elizabeth’s court.’ He poked the tip of his tongue between his teeth and wiggled it, an impish glitter in his eyes.
I could think of few places I would feel more exposed than the Tuileries palace during a masked ball, but the door had closed behind him and the key turned before I could protest. His departure seemed to suck all the force from the air; I felt my body sag with the weight of my tiredness. If the guards had allowed