I followed him back to the path, but instead of turning towards the palace, he led me in the other direction, along the edge of the wild part of the gardens in the shadow of the riverside wall, until we reached a small gate tucked away at the far end. Jacopo took a bunch of keys from his belt and unlocked it.
‘You can get a boat across the river from the steps at the Tour du Bois, there should be boatmen about at this hour,’ he said, chivvying me through. ‘And Bruno – tell no one else of what the girl said to you. Do not even mention that you saw her in the clearing. I told you before – it is safer for you to keep your distance from all this.’
‘All this? So you know that this murder is connected to the others?’
He laid a hand on my arm. ‘I know you believe so. Catherine told me what you said to Henri tonight, about Circe.’
‘I heard the girl, Jacopo, only minutes before she died, protesting she could not go through with it or she would damn her soul. What else could she have meant? Someone had corrupted her to their cause to kill the King, I am certain of it. She must have confessed to Paul Lefèvre, who wrote anonymously to the King to warn him. Henri never received the letter, but whoever was behind the plot found out by some means. Paul was killed to silence him, so was Joseph. When it became clear that Léonie had lost her nerve, she too was silenced.’
Jacopo looked at me with great weariness in his dark eyes, his face grave. ‘It sounds a wild theory to me, Bruno. But these deaths should be reason enough to leave the business alone. Let Catherine deal with it now as she judges best. Léonie de Châtillon was a member of her household.’
‘Guise and his sister are behind it, I am certain. It is just a question of finding proof.’ I felt my fists clench as I spoke; I had almost forgotten my obligation to Guise. But I still could not fathom why he had set me on to investigate the previous murders if he knew the trail would lead back to his associates.
‘Then you must certainly leave it to Catherine. She is practised in negotiating with the Duke of Guise – if he is responsible, she will find a way to have satisfaction.’ He darted a quick glance over his shoulder and squeezed my arm. ‘Now I must go. Promise me, Bruno, that you will not put yourself in any further danger?’
I laid my hand over his. ‘I can promise you that I will not take undue risk.’
‘That is not the same thing,’ he said, his eyes stern.
‘I have been given a task by the King, and until he releases me from it I consider myself under royal command.’
He sighed. ‘Too stubborn, Bruno. One day it will be the end of you. The King is hardly himself at the moment, surely you can see that?’ When I said nothing, he shook his head with an air of paternal disappointment. ‘Go, then. But come and dine with me this week. I will send you word when I am free.’
‘Thank you, I will.’ I pressed his hand. ‘One more question – are the Gelosi staying at your house this week?’
‘They will be there for today, collecting their belongings. Tomorrow they move to the Hotel de Montpensier – they have been offered rooms while they entertain the Duke tomorrow night. After that I believe they are bound for Lyon.’
‘Good. I want you to pass a message to Francesco. Tell him I need to take him up on his kind offer to join the company.’
SIXTEEN
I arrived back at my lodgings in the full light of a winter dawn and removed only my boots before wrapping myself in a blanket and falling on to my bed. The combined effects of wine and exhaustion overcame my racing mind and I slept until almost noon, when I was awakened by a furious hammering on the door to my chamber. I jolted upright, convinced it must be Catherine’s armed men come to escort me forcibly back to the Tuileries to account for having absconded the night before. While I debated whether it would be feasible to escape out of a second-floor window, the knocking came again, and with it the voice of my landlady, Madame de la Fosse, frostily informing me that a man in a friar’s habit was downstairs to see me. She made this sound vaguely reprehensible. I wondered how she would respond when a brace of armed guards eventually did turn up to arrest me.
I broke the skin of ice on the jug of water by my bed and splashed my face, ran my hands through my hair, straightened my clothes and pulled on my boots. When I was certain that Madame was downstairs again, I dragged a stool to the edge of the room and lifted the loose panel under the eaves that hid the cavity where I kept my most secret writings and correspondence, together with other items I would not wish to be found if anything happened to me. Through the small gap I eased out a cloth bag where I had stowed the silver penknife I had found by the body of Joseph de Chartres, and stuffed into it the embroidered scarf I had found in the wood, to examine later. I pushed the bag back and replaced the panel before snatching up my cloak and gloves and racing down the stairs to the front door, where Madame stood eyeing young Frère Benoît from Saint-Victor with her arms folded across her scrawny bosom, blocking his way in case he might be tempted to make off with her best candlesticks. He looked relieved to see me, his breath smoking around his face as he stamped his
