Doctor Who_ The Massacre Part 2

'But most of the time you know your customers?' Duval persisted.

'If you are referring to the Huguenot gentlemen, sir, oh yes, I know them well.' Antoine-Marc's whisper was sly.

'Viscount Lerans and Nicholas Muss and their a.s.sociates frequently take a gla.s.s of wine here.' He raised a protesting hand. 'Not, mark you, sir, by my my choice, but a man must live and a gla.s.s of wine down anyone's gullet, be he Catholic or Huguenot, puts two sous in my till.' choice, but a man must live and a gla.s.s of wine down anyone's gullet, be he Catholic or Huguenot, puts two sous in my till.'

'Watch and listen and I'll put in more.' Duval was brusque as he placed some coins on the counter. Antoine-Marc inclined his head slightly, took a goblet from under the bar, placed it in front of Duval and poured in some wine from a carafe.

'Your continued good health, sir,' Antoine-Marc murmured as he scooped up the coins.

Steven had stood watching the Doctor's carriage trundle away across the small bridge on the south side of the island until it was out of sight. Then he looked up at the ornate twin towers of the Cathedral in front of him and decided to go inside.

As he walked across the square he pa.s.sed the three stationary carriages with their liveried drivers immobile in their seats under the broiling sun. One of the horses pawed the ground briefly with a hoot, the second switched its tail and, as Steven mounted the steps to the ma.s.sive, intricately carved western entrance, the third horse nodded its plumed head.

Steven went into the shade and the coolness of the interior. Candles burned in groups on either side of the main altar and he looked around at the ma.s.sive pillars decorated with tapestries and heraldic banners stretching up to the central dome high above him. There was a faint lingering fragrance of incense in the air and as he sat down in a pew he had a fleeting vision of the majestic pomp and circ.u.mstance of the previous day's marriage.

Now Notre Dame wore a mantle of serenity. Yet Steven had seen and heard the confrontation in the auberge and the Doctor had warned him that it was not a time for them to linger in.

Involuntarily he s.h.i.+vered and wished that the Doctor were with him. Now, that was absurd! He'd been in sc.r.a.pes before, both with and without the Doctor, in the past and in the future, on earth and in the galaxies. Yet here, in the peace and quiet of the Cathedral, he felt disquieted and decided that the suns.h.i.+ne outside was preferable.

As he stood up to leave he saw three clergymen hurrying along one aisle towards the door. They were richly dressed in flowing robes and capes with skull caps on their heads.

They were talking among themselves and Stephen overheard one of the priests, a well-built, rotund man, say in a booming voice: '... with the Most Ill.u.s.trious in Rome, my Lord Abbot will allow them no shriving time, G.o.d be praised.'

One of the other two, a cadaverous man whose hands clutched the golden cross hanging around his neck, chuckled. 'Not even a few seconds for Vespers,' he added as they swept out through the open doorway.

The words 'shriving time' struck a distant chord in Steven's memory. Hadn't they something to do with death? he asked himself as he went out into the sweltering mid-afternoon sunlight. As he worried the phrase in his brain, his feet led him instinctively back towards the auberge.

'It's from a play,' he said aloud. 'Oh, come on, Taylor, you've acted in it, said those very words, "shriving time".'

He began to sound angry as he struggled to remember.

'When you were training to become an astronaut. Come on, think. Name the plays you were in, idiot.' He was furious now and did not see the young girl who came running around the corner and collided with him. 'Whoa,' he called out as he grabbed her by the shoulders spinning both of them around to keep their balance. 'What's the hurry?'

The girl looked at Steven in terror then wrenched herself free from his hold and ran into the auberge. Steven, taken aback, looked at the open door but from where he stood he could not see inside.

'Get out of my way,' a voice snapped behind him and Steven was roughly pushed to one side.

'Watch it,' Steven exclaimed as the man wearing an officer's uniform with a drawn sword and two other men with pikes stormed into the auberge. Steven moved over to the entrance and looked in.

The officer stood with his legs astride and pointed his sword around the room at the customers. 'Where's the girl?' he demanded.

Viscount Lerans, Nicholas Muss and their friends were seated back at their table with goblets of wine. Lerans had his feet on the table.

'Don't point that thing at me, fellow,' said Lerans. His light tone carried a hint of menace as he lowered his feet leisurely one at a time to the floor.

'I am the Most Ill.u.s.trious Cardinal Lorraine's officer of the guard and my orders are to apprehend the girl.' The officer tried to sound impressive. 'So where is she?'

'Well, I I am the Viscount Lerans,' he replied nonchalantly as he stood up and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, 'and I'm curious to know why three grown-up, armed men should be pursuing a slip of a girl.' am the Viscount Lerans,' he replied nonchalantly as he stood up and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, 'and I'm curious to know why three grown-up, armed men should be pursuing a slip of a girl.'

'She is a serving wench, Sire, who has run away from the Most Ill.u.s.trious Cardinal's house and I am to fetch her back,' the officer replied.

'But he's away, isn't he?' Lerans bantered.

'Who, Sire?'

'Lorraine. In Rome or somewhere.' Lerans glanced at Muss for confirmation. The officer drew in his breath sharply but realised that a sword and two pikes were no match for the young men around the table.

'She has been a.s.signed to the Abbot of Amboise's staff,'

the officer persisted.

Lerans studied the tip of one of his boots before replying. 'If she cared so little for one cleric's service as to run away, I doubt that she'd fare any better in another's,'

he chuckled. 'Above all, that of Amboise.'

'Is the girl here, Sire?' The officer chose to ignore the scarcely veiled insults.

'Yes,' Lerans replied, 'she's crouched under the bar.'

Antoine-Marc who stood behind it, looked alarmed.

'Seize her,' the officer ordered the pikemen.

'No,' Lerans countermanded sharply, 'leave her be.'

The officer hesitated before turning back to him.

'Viscount Lerans, my Lord the Abbot of Amboise shall learn of this occurrence when he arrives this evening and he will no doubt act accordingly.'

'No doubt,' Lerans agreed affably and the officer of the guard with his two pikemen turned on their heels and left the auberge.

Steven stood to one side to let them pa.s.s. Then Lerans saw him. 'Ah, this morning's stranger,' he called out and turned to Muss: 'Remember him, Nicholas, when we made sport with Simon Duval?' Without waiting for a reply he turned back to Steven. 'Come and join us,' he offered.

Steven crossed the room towards them. 'What will you do about the girl?' he asked as Antoine-Marc brought another goblet from the bar.

'Oh, yes, the girl,' Lerans exclaimed in mock surprise.

'I'd forgotten about her.' He clapped his hands. 'You can stand up now, wench,' he called and the girl rose cautiously from behind the bar. 'Come here, no harm'll fall upon you.'

The girl edged her way towards the table while Antoine-Marc filled Steven's goblet. 'You shouldn't play those sort of games here, Sire,' the landlord half-whispered to Lerans.

'It'll give my establishment a bad reputation.'

'A bad one!' Lerans laughed as he sank back into his chair and pointed at the girl: 'As a defender of helpless maidens, how can that possibly be bad?' He indicated a chair and invited Steven to sit down. 'English, aren't you and in Paris for yesterday's celebrations?'

'English, yes, but we only arrived today and are just pa.s.sing through,' Steven replied.

Lerans picked up his goblet. 'Where is your friend, the older man?'

'He's gone to Montparna.s.se to visit an apothecary.'

Behind the bar Antoine-Marc had p.r.i.c.ked up his ears.

Lerans raised his eyebrows. 'Is he sick?' he asked and added that there were plenty of apothecaries in the immediate neighbourhood. Steven explained that his friend was a doctor and that the visit was a professional one, an exchange of ideas.

Muss's eyes narrowed. 'A practising practising apothecary?' he enquired. apothecary?' he enquired.

'I don't know,' Steven replied.

'What's his name?'

Steven thought for a moment. 'The Doctor did mention it. Premlin, something like that.'

'Preslin, Charles Preslin,' Muss stated. 'A Huguenot.'

Lerans snorted with delight. 'Nicholas was fis.h.i.+ng to subtly discover whether you're pro-Catholic or for us.'

Steven smiled. 'I'm neutral,' he said.

'We, as you may have gathered, are not.' Lerans glanced at the girl who stood meekly beside the table. 'And baiting Catholics is my favourite sport.'

'So I've noticed,' Steven admitted with a laugh. Lerans picked up his goblet. 'Here's a toast to your Queen Bess, our ally, long may she reign'. They all rose and drank to Queen Elizabeth's health. Then he turned his attention to the girl. 'What's your name, child?' he asked.

'Anne Chaplet,' she replied.

'In the service of the Most Ill.u.s.trious Cardinal Lorraine.' He made the t.i.tle sound ludicrous. 'Yet a good Catholic girl like you runs away why?'

'I'm not a Catholic, sir,' Anne's mouth was set stubbornly.

Lerans looked at the others and then at her in astonishment. 'You're a Huguenot,' he exclaimed.

'Yes, sir,' she replied proudly.

Lerans chortled. 'We must send you back,' he rubbed his hands together gleefully, 'and have a spy in the household.'

'Oh, no, sir, please not that,' she begged. 'I don't know would what they would do to me.'

'For running away? A good thras.h.i.+ng, I suppose.'

Lerans' manner was only half-teasing. 'But now that you're in contact with us, it'd be worth it, surely?'

'But it wouldn't be for running away, sir, it'd be for something I overheard.'

Everyone around the table glanced at one another before leaning towards her, their faces serious.

'What did you overhear, Anne?' Lerans measured out his words.

'Wa.s.sy,' she replied. Steven did not understand but the others obviously did.

'What about Wa.s.sy?' Lerans's voice hardened.

'It might happen again before the week's out,' she said, wringing her hands. There was a catch in her voice as she added: 'That's where I come from and that's where my father was murdered.'

Lerans reached out, placed his hands on Anne's shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes. 'It's very, very important, Anne, that you remember every word you overheard.'

Anne nodded and took a deep breath: 'I was walking along a corridor in the servants' quarters, the one where the Cardinal's guards are housed, and I pa.s.sed their door which was open. There were two men in the room. One of them was the officer who came here to take me back and the other was a man I didn't know but the officer called him Roger when he said that there'd be more celebrations before the week was out and that it'd be just like Wa.s.sy all over again.'

Steven broke the ensuing silence. 'May I ask where Wa.s.sy is and what happened there?'

Nicholas Muss told him that Wa.s.sy was a small town about two hundred kilometres to the east of Paris. In March, 1562, some soldiers under the leaders.h.i.+p of the staunchly Catholic Duke Francois de Guise had ma.s.sacred twenty-five Huguenots who were attending a service in their Reform Church there. Steven glanced at Anne.

'My brother and I escaped by clambering up into the loft and jumping from the roof onto a hayrick before the Church was set on fire,' she said simply. 'My father was not so lucky.'

'It was the spark which ignited the Religious Wars in France,' Muss added, 'and there have been sporadic out-breaks of violence all over the country ever since. Francois de Guise was a.s.sa.s.sinated within the year. Sudden death without time to confess became the rule of thumb between Huguenots and Catholics. But we hope that yesterday's marriage will bring about a reconciliation.'

Suddenly a chord was struck in Steven's brain. He knew the play where he had spoken those lines mentioning shriving time. They were from Hamlet Hamlet. He had played the Prince who, plotting revenge for his father's murder, cries out:

'He should those bearers put to sudden death Not shriving time allowed.'

Of course: 'shriving time'the time allowed to a condemned man so that he may make peace with G.o.d before his execution.

What had the cleric said? 'with the Most Ill.u.s.trious in Rome, [Steven now knew who he was] my Lord Abbot will allow them no shriving time.' The other priest had added: 'Not even a few seconds for Vespers.' Combined with Anne's story, it could only mean a Catholic conspiracy against 'them'. But who were 'them'? He decided to let Gaston and Nicholas solve that one.

'Now, let me tell you what I overheard earlier this afternoon', Steven said, remembering not to mention a play that hadn't yet been written. 'It was meaningless to me until I heard what Anne had to say.' He repeated word for word the incident in the Cathedral.

There was a long silence after he had finished which was finally broken by Lerans who looked at Anne and then at Muss. 'Safekeeping for the girl, Nicholas, where?' His voice was brisk, authoritative.

'The Admiral's house,' Muss replied without hesitation.

'Where better than the residence of the Queen Mother's closest advisor?' He turned to Steven: 'Admiral de Coligny, he's a Huguenot, one of us, and as his secretary, I can keep an eye on her.'

Lerans looked at two of his young companions.

'Fabrice, you and Alain take her there,' he ordered before turning to Steven. 'Now, what about you, Englishman?' He paused and then smiled. 'Forgive my ill manners, I have not introduced myself nor asked your name.' He bowed his head slightly. 'I am Gaston, Viscount Lerans, the personal aide to His Majesty, Henri of Navarre.'

'My name's Steven Taylor,' Steven said and, half-raising his hands in a mild protest, added, 'but I'm not involved.