I had my reservations about the Commedia in general – there were limitations, I felt, to how much of human nature could be shown in its stock characters and scenarios – but Francesco and Isabella and their companions were so skilled in their stagecraft, so finely tuned in the physical comedy of their storytelling, that, watching them, I found myself laughing with sheer delight in their invention along with the rest of the audience, so absorbed in the performance that I did not notice any movement in the shadows behind the pillar until I felt a hand close around my arm.
‘Almost like home, eh?’ Spoken in Italian; a soft voice, sibilant, Florentine accent. I turned to see Balthasar de Beaujoyeux at my side, casually holding my arm, his lists and running orders bunched in his other hand. He did not wear a mask; it made his face look startlingly undefended among the disguised guests. Behind my own mask, my breathing sounded unnaturally loud. He gestured with his papers towards the stage.
‘For my money, Isabella Andreini is the finest performer in Italy – though Italy is too blind to see it. You have heard the bishops want to ban women from the stage altogether?’ He clicked his tongue, indignant. ‘Their loss is Paris’s gain, do you not agree?’
I stole a sidelong glance at him, saying nothing. He was still holding my arm with a grip firm enough to make a point. His close-cropped black hair and beard were flecked with grey; there was a severity to his good looks, and his dark eyes missed nothing. I had not known him well the last time I was at court, before I left for England, but I had never sensed that he was one of those courtiers who resented my friendship with the King, or had actively pursued my downfall – unlike Cosimo Ruggieri, the Queen Mother’s astrologer. On the few occasions we met, Balthasar had treated me with courtesy and even a degree of warmth. But he held himself generally aloof, as if he believed that his position at court was uniquely elevated; he may be working as Henri’s secretary now, but he was always Catherine’s man, and I had no idea if he was trying to trick me into revealing myself so that he could scurry to inform her that a persona non grata had entered her halls. There was an outside chance he had taken me for someone else, though the fact that he had addressed me in our shared language argued against that.
‘Come now, Giordano Bruno,’ he whispered, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Do you think I lack eyes to see?’ But he did not speak unkindly. ‘I did not spot it immediately, I admit,’ he continued, when I still refused to speak. ‘But I have known the Gelosi since they first came to Paris. I knew you were not their usual Dottore. Besides, I can count above ten. They have never before brought an understudy. I only realised who they had smuggled in when I saw how you avoided my eye. But you always did like to flirt with danger.’
‘What will you do?’ I said eventually.
He lifted one shoulder, non-committal. ‘Your presence is of no consequence to me, as long as I will not be blamed if she discovers you.’
‘She will not, if no one tells her. It was the King’s idea.’
‘That does not surprise me.’
‘I hear you are his secretary now.’
He allowed a small pause; I sensed he was weighing up his words. ‘I serve His Majesty and Queen Louise. These are difficult times – so much potential for betrayal. And Henri has not always exercised good judgement in his choice of intimates, as you know. Catherine wished him to be served by a close circle whose loyalty she can vouch for personally.’
And who will report back to her on the King’s every move, I thought. ‘It must give you less time to spend on all this, though.’ I gestured to the stage, the decorations overhead. He inclined his head with a wry twist of his mouth.
‘Truth to tell, there have not been many entertainments since you left, not the way we used to have. The coffers have been emptied to arm the troops. This is the first on such a scale in three years or more.’ He sighed. ‘I still teach the girls dancing most days, but you are right – I have missed it. I am more at home chivvying players and musicians than copying dispatches – for all the nerves it gives me.’
‘I will not keep you from it, then.’
‘No – I must go.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Well, I shall forget I have seen you. But take care you don’t run into Ruggieri. He won’t miss the chance to do you harm.’
‘True. Ruggieri has always hated me.’
Balthasar smiled. ‘Because your reputation as a magician eclipsed his.’
‘That was more slander—’
He held up a hand to stop me. ‘I have no quarrel with you, Bruno. You are my countryman, whatever they say about you. Personally, I always felt you rather livened up the place. Not that this court has ever wanted for incident,’ he added, with a hint of pride. He tightened his grip and pulled me closer, conspiratorial. ‘I warn you only because if I have recognised you, others may too, and there are plenty here who are not your friends. The Queen Mother is in a particularly unforgiving temper with the strain of this entertainment. I would not count on Henri to take responsibility, if she finds you here.’
I nodded, though my eyes were drawn again to the stage, where Isabella had stretched herself over backwards, her body arched so that only her
