Conspiracy

‘Did he really?’ He looked at me sidelong, tilted a plucked eyebrow. ‘How extraordinary. Even I wouldn’t want to talk about my peccadilloes for four hours. I didn’t hear it myself, but I have people who keep me abreast of these things. It was the closest any of Guise’s puppets have come so far to inciting a mob, I’m told. Dangerous, at any rate.’

I nodded. In this, at least, he was not mistaken; there had been a new mood among the congregation after Paul’s sermon: restive, pent-up, angry, a nest of hornets needing only one small prod to explode. It was a miracle there had been no violence; if a Protestant had passed by and happened to say a wrong word, he’d have been torn apart.

‘And?’ I prompted, since Henri had fallen silent again.

He examined his manicure with apparent indifference. ‘It would seem he was murdered yesterday. I’d like you to find out who did it.’

‘Me?’ I stared at him, wondering if it was a trap.

His gaze flickered upwards and rested briefly on me. ‘The streets are already alive with rumours that he was killed on my orders, in revenge for his sermon. Guise will seize on this and fan the flames – it could tip the balance of feeling in the city. The League has people wound so tight, it would take only the slightest provocation to spark a riot or another massacre. An attack on a priest is a direct attack on the Church – people are superstitious about that sort of thing, and it will be seen as further proof of my disregard for the Catholic faith. I assume that’s why he did it.’

‘Who?’

He frowned, irritated. A nerve twitched in his cheek. ‘Keep up, Bruno – you’re supposed to be the finest mind at my court. Guise did it, obviously, to inflame the people against me.’

‘Killed one of his own supporters?’ I could not quite disguise the doubt in my voice. It was a plausible explanation, but less convincing than the simpler version, which was that Henri had done exactly what the rumours claimed. I thought of the burned scrap of letter inside my doublet: the words Votre Majesté. The same cold sensation tightened my throat again.

‘Precisely.’ Henri rubbed the back of his neck, stretching from side to side. ‘He can find himself twenty more hellfire preachers like that one. But the chance to lay the murder of a priest at my door – that serves him beautifully. Wouldn’t that sway any pious citizens unsure about where their loyalties should lie in the event of a coup? So, you see, I need to clear my name before Guise tortures some poor wretch into saying publicly that I put him up to it. I want you to find the man who did this, with evidence that will convict him before all Paris. Justice must be seen to be served. If you can tie the killer to Guise, all the better.’

‘You don’t ask much.’ I moved away to lean against the balustrade. ‘With respect, sire – why me?’

He smiled. ‘Ah, my Bruno. Do you think Francis Walsingham is the only one who has informers at his beck and call? You kept yourself busy in England, I hear. It seems you have quite the knack of sniffing out a murderer.’

Sidney used to use the same turn of phrase, I recalled – as if I were a trained wolfhound.

‘Your Majesty has enough lapdogs, surely.’ I returned the smile through my teeth, while my mind ran through a list of all the people who might have been spying on me for Henri over the past three years. I wondered what else he knew, and how he might choose to use it. ‘Besides, if you believe this killer belongs to the Duke of Guise’s circle, how am I supposed to get near him? They all know me for an enemy.’

‘I dare say you’ll find a way, Bruno. You could pretend you are looking for a new patron. Or claim you wish to be reconciled to the Church. That might get his attention.’

He held my gaze, unwavering, that smile still playing around his lips.

‘Guise finds you interesting,’ he added. ‘He always has. I’m sure you can talk your way into his confidence.’

It was difficult to tell when Henri was mocking; he tended to smirk even when he 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.’