‘Huh. That makes two of us.’
‘In my case the danger is imminent. His men abducted me from outside Jacopo Corbinelli’s house last night. I fear I won’t elude him a second time unless you act in my defence.’
Henri’s eyebrows arched upwards. ‘Abducted? That does sound serious. I suppose I could ask my mother to have a word. He listens to her.’
‘I was thinking more immediately of a bodyguard.’
He waved a hand, impatient. ‘Yes, I’m sure we can find someone to see you home. But now tell me who this man is. I command you.’
I took a deep breath. ‘It is not—’
But I was interrupted by the door opening to admit Balthasar again. He bowed low, but I did not miss the flash of malicious pleasure in the look he gave me.
‘Your Majesty, forgive me,’ he said, ‘but a messenger has just arrived with all speed from the Tuileries. Your lady mother wants this man brought before her this instant.’ He pointed theatrically at me. ‘He broke into the palace last night, assaulted one of her ladies and locked her in a bedchamber.’
Henri’s eyes widened. ‘What an exciting night you’ve been having, Bruno,’ he said. ‘Breaking in, dressing up, assaulting ladies.’
‘I did not assault anyone, Your Majesty.’
‘Knowing the ladies of the Tuileries, Balthasar, I rather fear Bruno was the one whose virtue was in jeopardy there. They should be locked in their chambers more often.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Balthasar said, half-bowing to disguise the fact that he was attempting to give his sovereign orders, ‘that may be, but the Queen Mother commands Doctor Bruno to appear before her immediately.’
Henri glanced towards the window, apparently deep in thought. Then, without warning, he swung his legs out of bed; I jumped back, startled, but he was already fully dressed.
‘You can tell my mother’ – he declared, in a voice that would have carried through all the anterooms; a king’s voice, for once – ‘that my friends are not hers to command. But – no—’ he stopped, seeming to change his mind. ‘Tell her we will come. You can deliver your news in her hearing, Bruno. See what she has to say about that.’ He leaned heavily on my shoulder; despite his weakness, his face was lit by a perverse glee that verged on mania, as if the extreme melancholy of the past couple of days had metamorphosed into a frantic energy, darkly glittering and all the more dangerous.
‘Your Majesty,’ I began. From the corner of my eye I could see Balthasar twisting his hands together. ‘I don’t think that would be wise. Perhaps if you and I were to speak in private first, and you could acquaint Queen Catherine with the facts at your convenience, when you have had a chance to mull over—’
‘Wise be damned,’ Henri said, snapping his fingers. ‘She is still insisting that Léonie’s death was self-slaughter. I want to see her proved wrong to her face. Where is my sable cloak?’
‘Your Majesty,’ Balthasar stepped forward, his tone gently condescending, ‘there is snow on the ground. Think of your health. Your physician is outside, he will tell you the same. If you should take a chill and weaken yourself further—’
‘For the love of Jesus, Balthasar—’ Henri rounded on him, teeth clenched – ‘I already have one mother. And that is more than sufficient, believe me.’ He strode past us and picked up his cloak from a chair by the door. ‘Fetch me my boots.’ He turned to me. ‘Come, Bruno. You can save your grand revelation for a bigger audience.’
I replied with a wan smile. As he had pointed out, only a fool would try to bargain with a king.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Though the sky was still barely light outside, we found Catherine formally dressed and seated expectantly on her high-backed chair with the crocodiles overhead. In the cold dawn, the stacks of artefacts and bric-a-brac surrounding her appeared worn and flat, like painted stage properties from another age. She gave a little cry of surprise as the King entered, supporting himself on my arm, and half-rose, a hand outstretched, her face creased in motherly anxiety.
‘You should not be out of bed, my son,’ she said, addressing him in Italian, as if maternal feelings expressed themselves instinctively in her own tongue.
‘Sit down, Mother. Don’t alarm yourself. I am much improved. Your doctor has purged me thoroughly.’ Henri spoke in French, for the benefit of the rest of the company. Ruggieri sat beside the Queen Mother in an uncomfortable chair; his puffy features and drooping head suggested he had been hurried from his bed prematurely. Gabrielle perched on the edge of the dais at Catherine’s feet, now dressed, her hair in artful disarray; she flashed me a look of pure fury as I entered. I found I could not meet her eye.
‘I understand you wanted to see Doctor Bruno?’ Henri smiled pleasantly at his mother. ‘I thought I would take the air and accompany him.’
Catherine glared at me, as if this were my doing. ‘It was on a private matter.’
‘It strikes me that there is too much private business going on in this palace lately. You know I don’t like you having secrets from me, Mother.’ Henri was still smiling, but there was steel in it. His fingers gripped my shoulder. ‘Whatever you have to say, you may say it in the presence of your king.’
Catherine’s face tightened almost imperceptibly at the subtle pulling of rank. ‘You and I have spoken before about the company you keep,’ she said, her voice taut. ‘This man is a perfect example. He has been taking liberties. Twice in the last week he has found his way into my house under false pretences and absconded against my express orders. He has finagled his way into your wife’s apartments. And now he has assaulted one of my women. The Duchess of Montpensier has written to me saying he broke into her house and took private letters before jumping out
