'You have the same look as he had,' I replied. 'Who are you?'
Vauban drove the point of his sword into the grass. 'Ralemberg was my brother.'
'He never mentioned you. He talked of one…'
'There were three of us. All Bretons. I was the youngest. My elder brothers believed in Breton independence but they came from the old world. France will be a great nation. One people, one heart, one head!'
'You killed your own brother?' I accused.
'Yes. He was a member of the Luciferi, he took the oath, but my elder brother won him over. He knew the rules of the game so I fought him. I tracked him down but I was not there when he died. They said it was quick. Only later did I learn about Madame and young Agnes. But come,' he raised his sword and stepped backwards, 'let us put an end to these matters.'
The swords clashed with renewed fury, Benjamin moving with consummate skill and expertise. He drove Vauban back.
'How many. Roger, did the Luciferi kill? Ah, yes, five with the dog. For number one!' Benjamin parried, thrust and nicked Vauban in the right shoulder. The Frenchman gasped, his face pallid and sweat-stained. His wife and children cried out in terror. Again the swords clashed. 'Number two!' Benjamin murmured. Again the cut. 'Number three and number four!' Fresh cuts appeared on both of Vauban's arms, the blood seeping out, turning the white sleeves crimson. 'Master!' I shouted.
(I can't stand the sight of blood, neither mine nor anyone else's.)
Benjamin drove Vauban back.
'And now the fifth!'
I closed my eyes as the swords clashed.
'Oh, Lord!' I prayed. 'Not dead, not here!'
I opened my eyes. Vauban still stood but his sword had been knocked clear from his hand whilst the point of Benjamin's was laid carefully against the pulse throbbing in his throat. The Frenchman didn't beg. He just stood for what he was, a beaten man. Behind him his wife wailed. 'Oh, no! No!' above the crying of her children. Benjamin's eyes were half-closed, his face marble white as he waved me over with his other hand.
'You have a choice, Roger. Shall I kill him or will you?'
(Do you know, I was fascinated by Benjamin. Here he was, a scholar and an academic, gentle and kind. Yet over the last few days I had sensed the dark side of him, and now I saw it in full flower. Something in Vauban had raised the demons in his soul and I wondered about the slippery line which runs through us all, separating what is sane from the dark world of madness. My chaplain, too, is surprised but he doesn't know the full story of my life; how Benjamin and I, years later, clashed sword against sword, dagger against dagger, fighting over a woman whose dark beauty and cruel passions could sever any friendship. Ah, but that's another story.)
In that quiet Paris garden Vauban stared at me as he waited to die and, once again, I was reminded of Ralemberg for the duel had stripped him of his heavy-lidded arrogance.
'Well,' Benjamin repeated. 'What shall it be, Roger?'
Suddenly the door of the garden house was flung open and one of the little girls ran towards me, her baby face soaked in tears. She grasped my leg.
'Soyez gentil, Monsieur, ne tuez pas notre papa!'
I crouched down and gently wiped the tear drops from her soft cheeks. The door of the garden house opened and the others came out.
'S'il vous plait, Monsieur,' the girl repeated.
I stared into her light blue eyes and wondered if she would be like Agnes when she grew up. What did it matter? I thought. Can death restore life? I got up and walked over to Benjamin. I pushed his sword down and stood facing him, my back to Vauban.
'Let him go, Benjamin! For God's sake, what would another death prove? And what will it make us?'
Benjamin tapped the edge of his sword against his boot. He looked past me, his eyes never leaving Vauban. 'You are sure, Roger?'
'As certain as there's a God in heaven!'
Benjamin re-sheathed both sword and dagger, put on his doublet and picked up his cloak. Vauban just stood staring disbelievingly at me. I still grasped the horse pistol for I didn't trust the bastard as far as I could spit.
'We will leave now.' Benjamin nodded at Vauban and gave Madame Louise the most courtly bow. I grinned and raised the horse pistol.
'I will treat this as a present, Monsieur, for we intend to leave Paris alive. You will find your guard fast asleep, trussed and bound in the bushes near the gate.'
I followed Benjamin round to the front of the house when a voice called out.
'Shallot!'
I turned quickly, lifting the horse pistol, but Vauban just stood there holding the little girl who had clung to me. She now ran towards me, her long, dark hair flying out. I crouched to greet her.
'Monsieur,'' she whispered breathlessly, ^‘ un cadeau.'
She opened her hand and showed me her present, a small, blood red stone. The sort of little geegaw or trinket we adults dismiss as cheap but a child regards as more sacred than life itself. I shook my head and gently clasped her fingers back over it.
'Thank you,' I smiled. 'But there's no need. Comment vous appellez-vouz?'
^‘ Je m'appelle Marie.'
I rose. 'Then, au revoir, Marie.'
'Au revoir, Monsieur'
I did not look back. Benjamin and I collected our horses, made our way safely out of Paris and thundered along the country lanes back to Maubisson. Only when we were sure of no pursuit did we rein in. Benjamin leaned over and wiped the white lather from the horse's neck.
'I should have killed him, Roger,' he announced tonelessly.
I leaned over and nudged him gently.
'And if I had said 'yes', you would have done it?' Benjamin stared back and his face broke into a boyish grin.
'I don't know.' His eyes narrowed. 'But you are a strange one, Roger. Any other man would have killed Vauban for what he'd done and then danced on his corpse.'
'Perhaps,' I muttered. 'Vauban said we were the same as him, yet he may be wrong. He may have killed. We wouldn't.'
Benjamin kicked his horse into a gentle canter.
'Come on, Roger!' he shouted. 'We are finished here. We are for Maubisson and then by fast horse to Calais.'
'What about that bloody ring?' I groaned, drawing close to him.
Benjamin made a face. 'The king will forget and forgive. Raphael is dead, the murders avenged. Let's pray he will be satisfied.'
I thought of the Great Killer's brooding eyes and prayed to God my master was right.
We left Maubisson two days later, accompanied by Doctor Agrippa, still elated by our success and eager to bring the good news to Wolsey and the king. He was as sanguine as Benjamin about our failure over the ring.
'His Majesty will have to be satisfied with what we have achieved,' he muttered. 'There'll be another day.'
Both he and Benjamin were in high spirits and chose to ignore my gloomy forebodings, my master chattering about his school at Ipswich and wondering if the good doctor could recommend a tutor of Classics. Talking like two magpies, they rode briskly along the lanes whilst I trailed behind, uncomfortably aware that the king had made me personally responsible for returning his ring. Now, we expected little trouble on our journey. Agrippa carried warrants and safe conducts. We were well armed and Dacourt had informed us before we left Maubisson that horsemen would be at the Pale of Calais to meet us.
We were within an hour's ride of that, threading our way through a clump of woodland, when a troop of horsemen suddenly burst out of the trees, blocking our passage and circling us in a ring of steel. I moaned with fright; they were all dressed in helmets and brigandines and wore the personal emblem of the King of France alongside the Red Lion Rampant of Scotland. The Garde Ecossais. Each bore a small crossbow, loaded and pointed
