The old man looked stricken. Neither prospect held much appeal. ‘It could have been a servant,’ he faltered. ‘A stolen key—’
I clicked my tongue, impatient. ‘Whoever struck Paul Lefèvre did it on behalf of someone more powerful, you can be sure. I’d be surprised if that person would have entrusted such a task to a servant. The Abbé will not thank you for drawing his attention to the scandal, if it was one of his friars. He may even have an interest in protecting the murderer. No one was supposed to find this evidence—’ I lifted the statue into his line of sight. ‘If you speak up about it, you may put yourself in danger. That’s why I should be the one to confront whoever comes back for this. Once I know who he is for certain, it will be for others to deal with and no one will connect it with you.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be absurd, Bruno. Everyone will know I let you in here.’
‘You just said yourself, a key might be stolen. Supposing you had left yours unattended in the library? I might well have helped myself. It’s the sort of thing they would expect of me.’
I cocked an eyebrow, waiting to see if I had convinced him. He regarded me with a tired smile.
‘You are relentless, Bruno. You propose to conceal yourself in here until he returns to dispose of the evidence. Then what? Will you accost him yourself? By whose authority?’
‘You can guess,’ I said quietly.
He pulled at his beard, looking doubtful. ‘You know the religious houses outside the city walls have their own jurisdiction. Unless you are carrying a royal seal, Henri’s name will not mean much here. It will be your word – a known heretic who has broken into abbey property – against that of a senior official of the order. Do you think the Abbé will meekly send for the royal guard at your request? Or is it more likely that you are the one who will end up detained?’
I sucked in my cheeks. He had a point. ‘Then I will not confront him. I will merely make sure I can identify him beyond doubt, and report what I know. It will be in the King’s hands after that. You’ll need to give me the key to the back gate, so I can escape.’
‘And by the time you have passed on what you know and the King’s guard arrives, that evidence will be gone, if you do not intervene.’ He spread his hands to indicate helplessness. ‘So it will be your word against the perpetrator’s once more. Henri will not send his soldiers barging into a powerful abbey and accusing a friar of murder without proof, not with rumours already flying that it was he who had the priest killed in the first place.’
‘Damn you, Cotin – you are right again.’ I closed my eyes for a moment while I considered. ‘Very well – we will do it this way. You must send a message to the Louvre palace as soon as possible. Address it to Jacopo Corbinelli, sign it from me. Tell him to ask the King to send two of his strong men, the two that know me, have them wait outside the abbey gate after Compline tonight. I don’t think our man will come looking for this until he can be sure he won’t be seen. Tell them to be discreet, and I will deliver the killer into their hands, with proof. I can pay you,’ I added, seeing his discomfort, though I knew that was not the issue.
‘I don’t want your money.’ He tutted, turning his head away. ‘This is your notion of keeping me out of it, eh?’ He hunched his shoulders, weighing up the price. ‘I know you need the King’s favour again, Bruno, but tell me – can you be certain he is blameless in this?’
I passed a hand over my face. ‘I can be certain of nothing, Cotin. Except that it seems beyond doubt that Paul Lefèvre was bludgeoned with this statue by someone who has access to this building and your back gate. That man is the only one who can tell us the truth about this business, and I mean to find him.’
‘I would face severe discipline if the Abbé learns I was part of your escapade – which he will. I could lose my position. I know I owe you, but…’
He lowered his eyes. He did not need to say more; I knew what the risk meant to him. When I had first met Cotin, during my last stay in Paris, he had dreaded losing his office as librarian; too proud to admit that his sight was failing, he did his best to hide his deficiency from his brothers, living in fear of the day he could no longer read his beloved manuscripts. Through my friend Jacopo’s connections, I had had made for him a pair of eyeglasses that could magnify the smallest script; not such a great expense for my pocket at the time, but a luxury beyond the means of a friar sworn to a life of poverty. The instrument had restored Cotin to his work; now I was the one threatening it again.
‘I will not persuade you against your better judgement,’ I said, affecting unconcern. ‘Only consider this: how will it feel to look across the chapel every day during the office and catch the eye of one of your brothers, knowing he killed a man in cold blood?’
‘God’s tears, Bruno.’ He made a soft noise that might have been a curse, or a rueful laugh. ‘You know how to pluck at my conscience. Where do you want to hide yourself, then? I had better hurry with this message – they will be ringing the bell
