‘Wait here with me,’ he said. He pointed to the guard. ‘You. Go and tell her ladyship she’s got a visitor. What’s your name?’ He turned back.
I hesitated, but there seemed no use in subterfuge. ‘Bruno. She’s expecting me.’
Laughter gurgled deep in Rémy’s layers. ‘If you say so.’ He jerked his head towards the palace and the other man stamped away into the dark. I huddled closer to the brazier, holding out my hands towards the flames, flinching as the feeling slowly returned and I became aware that my palms were cross-hatched with a hundred tiny cuts from the thatched roof and my wrists scored with gashes from the meat hook.
‘Cold tonight,’ I remarked, after a few minutes, tucking my hands into my armpits. The snow around us seemed to glitter with its own light. My teeth were clattering so severely that I feared I would bite my tongue.
‘Mate.’ Rémy leaned against the wall and gave me a look of infinite patience. ‘I haven’t seen you. Understand? We don’t need to be friends.’
‘Right.’ I drew my chin into my chest and inched as near as I could to the flame without setting myself alight. After a while he sighed, levered himself off the wall and disappeared into the small wooden hut that served as his sentry box, emerging with a rough woollen blanket.
‘Put that round you,’ he said, ‘or you’ll freeze your bollocks off and you’ll be no use to her then.’
I thanked him and wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. It smelled of dog. Twenty minutes or more passed before the guard returned and handed me a folded sheet of paper without speaking. I opened it to find a hastily scribbled note.
This man will take you to my maidservant. Do as she asks. I will be with you in an hour. G.
I stared at the paper for a few moments as a cold shiver prickled up my spine. Rémy nodded and I followed the guard past white trees and around the side of the nearest wing to a door where a young woman wrapped in the plain serge gown of a servant waited for us with a lantern. She led me inside the palace, up a flight of back stairs and along unlit corridors until we reached a door which she unlocked with a key from her belt and stood back, ushering me inside. I found myself in a modest bedchamber, dominated by a large carved bed hung with embroidered curtains. Under the narrow window stood a table covered with cosmetics, brushes, hairpins, vials of scent. An ivory undershift edged with lace had been draped casually over a chair. In the grate a small fire smouldered and the air smelled of perfume and spiced wine mixed with woodsmoke. The girl bowed out wordlessly, leaving me alone. As the door clicked shut I jerked around, suddenly afraid that she might lock me in, but I heard only the sound of her footsteps padding away down the passage. I dragged the chair over to the fire and threw on another log from a basket in the hearth, then took out Gabrielle’s note and re-read it. I supposed the delay meant she was with another man, but I could not shake off a growing sense of unease.
I must have drifted into sleep; I jerked awake at the sound of the door and turned to see Gabrielle lock it softly behind her and press a finger to her lips. Her hair hung loosely down her back and she wore a thick embroidered robe tied at the waist with a silk girdle.
‘I’m glad you changed your mind, Bruno,’ she murmured, gliding across to stand behind me, her fingers slowly kneading my shoulders. ‘Did you decide I was a better option than work or sleep?’
I smiled. ‘Something like that.’ I could hardly tell her I had changed my mind because she was a better option than having my hands cut off by the Duke of Guise.
‘Let me get you a drink,’ she said, leaning over me and stroking her fingers down my chest.
‘No,’ I said, too emphatically. Her other hand stopped working the base of my neck. ‘I mean to say, I have no need of anything.’
‘I hope you don’t think I would try to poison you, Bruno.’ She moved around to stand in front of me, her eyes glittering.
‘I would not put anything past you, Gabrielle.’ I was still smiling, but she knew I was not joking.
‘Well, then,’ she said, in a lighter tone, ‘let’s not waste any more time.’ She loosened the silk tie of her robe and let it fall to the ground. I let my gaze travel up the line of her naked body until my eyes met hers, frank and defiant.
‘You’ll catch cold,’ I said feebly.
‘Then you had better warm me up.’ She took my hand and led me to the bed, blowing out the candles on the way. I tore off my doublet and felt expert fingers unfastening the laces of my shirt. The sheets were icy against my skin, but her body seemed to radiate heat as she wrapped herself around me in the dark.
‘So,’ she whispered, her tongue flicking at my earlobe, ‘is it true that you are trying to find out who killed Léonie?’
‘What?’ I rolled over to face her. ‘Where did you get that idea?’
‘Catherine mentioned it. Henri told her he wanted you to find the truth, apparently.’
She kept her voice casual, teasing, but I tensed and I knew she felt it. I wondered if it was true that Henri had told his mother about finding Léonie’s killer, or if Catherine had learned of it from Balthasar listening outside the oratory door. Either way, it was not good news for me; if Catherine feared I was drawing close to her plot against the Queen, she might take it upon herself to silence me before I could tell Henri. Perhaps, even now, I
