‘Am I to consider myself in your employ, then, Sir Edward?’
He tutted, as if the commercial side were beneath him, but after a short pause while we looked expectantly at one another, he reached down and unlocked a drawer in his desk. From it he withdrew a small chest and took out a purse, which he laid on the table in front of me.
‘If I consider your intelligence worthwhile, it will be rewarded.’
I smiled. ‘You are a shrewd negotiator, sir. But it would be no fault of mine if you judge what I tell you to be worthless, when it may have value to others. I would like nothing better than to help preserve England’s freedoms, but a man must eat.’
His mouth twitched again, but after a moment he nodded and shook out two gold écus on to the papers. ‘Walsingham said you were a sharp man. Very well. If you are agreeable, I will pay you a small amount for the gathering of information, and more if what you bring is valuable to England.’ He pushed the coins towards me. ‘Would such an arrangement be satisfactory to you?’
‘Paul Lefèvre hinted that he had knowledge of an imminent plot against the King,’ I said, picking up the coins and ignoring his sarcasm. ‘When I pressed him on it, he said he spoke in general terms only. But I believe he may have had second thoughts about his complicity. He may even have considered warning Henri.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Hints he gave.’ I decided not to mention the burned letter until I had a clearer idea of whether or not the King had received a copy. ‘In any case, my guess is that the League had come to feel he could not be relied upon to keep his mouth shut.’
‘As I thought. So they shut it for him.’ Stafford nodded. ‘Especially if they knew he had been talking to you. You are still a confidant of the King, I understand?’
I shrugged. ‘Not as I once was.’
‘But he sent for you the night before last.’
‘Sir Edward…’ I paused, chinking the coins in my palm. ‘How long has Charles Paget been watching me?’
He blinked. ‘I asked him to find you a fortnight since. Beyond that, I cannot account for his movements.’
‘He seems on very familiar terms with you,’ I said carefully. His eyes grew guarded.
‘That surprises you, does it? Because he is a Catholic?’
‘With respect, sir, he is not just any Catholic. He was a principal architect of the conspiracy against Queen Elizabeth two years ago. He was the main contact between Mary Stuart’s supporters here and the Catholic nobles in England. It was he who arranged safe harbours and provisions for Guise’s invading army.’ I broke off, aware that my voice had risen.
Stafford brought his palm down on the desk, his expression stony. ‘Precisely. Paget is a uniquely valuable source of information, with access to the inner rooms of all our enemies.’ He counted off on his fingers. ‘He is secretary to Archbishop Beaton, Mary Stuart’s ambassador here. He has the ear of the Spanish ambassador. He is trusted by Guise and his sister and knows everyone of interest among the English émigrés. It is quite an achievement to have turned him, believe me.’ He allowed himself a preening expression. ‘Look closely at this whole tangled web of religious and political alliances in Paris and you will find Paget at the very heart.’
‘Forgive me, but – why would a man like Paget switch loyalties? When only two years ago he risked his life in a plot to assassinate the Queen and invade England?’
Stafford glared at me. ‘Because he craves the Queen’s pardon. He does not want to spend his life in exile. You of all men should understand that.’ There was an edge to his voice; a twist of the knife. Clearly he did not like having his judgement challenged. ‘I suspect the fates of his co-conspirators have greatly frightened him – he wishes to distance himself from them through loyal service to England, in the hope of one day returning to court. And because, like the rest of us, he needs money.’
If you believe that, I thought, you are the greatest dupe on either side of the Channel.
‘We both know that his friends are dead or in prison because of me,’ I said. ‘You will understand, then, that I am not convinced his feelings towards me are entirely benign. And I find it hard to believe that a man like that would give up his religious allegiance so easily.’
‘Nonetheless, if it were not for him you might be sitting across from the Duke of Guise this morning, answering his questions instead of mine.’ Stafford flashed a thin smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘And I doubt he would have offered you breakfast. Not that this is any of your business, but Paget has already given me several pieces of intelligence from the Catholic side that leave me quite satisfied as to his integrity. Tell me why you were at the abbey of Saint-Victor last night?’
I realised the discussion about Paget was closed. ‘I believed Paul Lefèvre’s killer came from among the friars,’ I said. ‘One of them fled when I tried to accost him.’
Stafford nodded, more relaxed now that we were back on less fraught ground. I did not envy him his position here, trying to juggle all the competing factions in Paris and second-guess which of them might rise to power so that he could move to his sovereign’s best advantage. Or indeed his own. No wonder he was willing to take a man with Paget’s rich connections without probing too closely. No wonder either that he looked older than his years.
‘And these?’ he asked, pushing a crumpled sheet of paper across the desk. I saw that it was one of the draft pamphlets I had taken from Joseph’s room and hidden in
