‘In a fortnight. To take some money for my father from his friends in Paris,’ he added, quickly. So that was his cover story. I wondered what else he would be carrying for Paget and the other Catholics here, and what he might intend to bring back. More martyrs’ fingers or teeth, perhaps? Well, that would be uncovered soon enough.
‘Then I pray God you have a safe trip and find him in good health.’ I smiled and made a little bow as I turned to leave. ‘My name is Filippo, by the way. I hope we meet again.’
He nodded, though he did not look as if he welcomed the idea. And now I had a name for Walsingham, I thought, as I closed the door behind me. Poor fool. He was right – Sophia would not look twice at him, unless she thought she could use him to her advantage.
In the street outside the tavern I walked straight into Charles Paget.
‘Bruno!’ He sounded, as always, as if it was a delightful surprise to bump into me – a sure sign he had known very well where to find me. ‘We do not often see you frequenting such disreputable places. Wouldn’t have thought they were your kind of people, in there.’
‘Englishmen?’
‘Papists.’ He said it in a theatrical whisper, as if sharing a dirty secret. ‘Did you find good company?’
‘I found a hot meal, Paget, which was all I looked for.’ I shouldered past him in the narrow street and began to walk away.
‘Yes, you must have needed sustenance, after last night. An eventful evening all round, I understand. Catherine’s entertainments can usually be relied upon to provide some drama, but rarely after the show is over.’ Paget kept pace with me easily with his long legs; I could not hope to shake him off.
‘Were you there?’
He merely smiled. I supposed the answer was yes – it would have been unlike Paget to miss an occasion such as last night’s – but with a girl murdered I could understand why he was unwilling to confirm his presence.
‘Where are you going?’ he said, as we reached the Mathurins. ‘I’ll walk with you.’
‘I thought you were going to the Eagle?’ I nodded back towards the tavern.
‘Oh, that will keep. Tell me what happened with the girl. You were there.’ He took hold of my arm to pull me to a halt, his grip firm enough not to be argued with. ‘I know Catherine sent for you. What are they saying about the death? Is it connected?’
I hesitated, weighing my answer. It was never easy to judge how much Paget already knew. If Léonie de Châtillon was killed because of her part in a conspiracy against the King, it could only lead back to Guise, or someone acting on his behalf. I looked at Paget, trying to size him up. He and Guise were of a similar stature, both tall and broad-shouldered; either could have been the man in the Greek mask. I presumed it would serve their purpose better to think the death were not being treated as murder. I wondered what he had meant by saying I was there – was he hinting that he had seen me, or just trying to frighten me into giving more away than I intended?
‘They seem to believe the girl took her own life.’
His eyes grew shrewd. ‘But what do you think?’
‘I saw nothing to suggest that was not the case.’
‘Hm.’ He let go of my arm. ‘Guise says she was murdered.’
‘Guise thinks so?’ I could not keep the surprise from my voice. ‘Then he clearly knows something I do not.’
Paget rolled his eyes. ‘He didn’t do it. He thinks it must have been someone at court – it would explain why they want to cover it up. That’s why he’s keen to know what you might have observed, at close quarters. I should not need to remind you that you made an agreement with him.’
I thought back to the scene in the gallery: the way Catherine and Ruggieri had closed ranks to deny that Léonie had been murdered. Perhaps Guise had a point. But I was less afraid of his threats after my conversation with Gilbert Gifford. If Guise wanted Sophia for his mistress, he was hardly likely to hurt her in order to spite me. At least, not until after he had had her, and if Gifford was to be believed, she was still holding out. For a better deal, I thought, bitterly.
‘If it were the case that she was murdered, I ask myself why the Duke should care? Did he have some vested interest in her?’
‘I believe she was a mistress once, years ago. He’s been through most of Catherine’s girls at one time or another. But he remained fond of her. Besides, he thinks her death is connected to the others. The priest and de Chartres.’
‘Why does he think that?’ My palms had begun to sweat, despite the cold. I reminded myself that there was no possible way Paget or Guise could know that I had seen the Circe letter or told the King about it.
‘She was observed visiting the church of Saint-Séverin recently.’
‘How do you know that? From Lefèvre?’
‘No. He never mentioned it – that is the strange part. Another helpful party saw her leaving his confessional.’ He shook his head. ‘Curious, isn’t it? One of Catherine’s women choosing a League church for her confession? What did they talk about?’
‘I suppose we will never know, since they are both dead.’
‘Both murdered,’ Paget said, darkly. ‘Remarkable coincidence. Guise wants to know why. And you are supposed to be finding out for him.’
‘I am doing my best,’ I said, needled. ‘He will have to wait a little longer.’
‘You don’t have much longer,’ he said. Before I had a chance to ask what he meant by that, he laughed abruptly and clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Dine with me this evening. I am having a small gathering at my lodgings on the rue Neuve. Gentlemen
