Page 221 of A Column of Fire

She ordered a tankard of ale to be sent to the back door of a house in the next street – a signal, Ned gathered. The place was busy, and there was nowhere to sit, so they stood in a corner. Ned was full of nervous anticipation. Was he really about to get a look at Pierre Aumande’s secret list?

A few minutes later they were joined by a plain, thin woman in her twenties. Sylvie introduced her as Nath, Pierre’s housemaid. ‘She belongs to our congregation,’ she said.

Ned understood. Sylvie had subverted Pierre’s servant and thereby gained access to his papers. Clever Sylvie.

‘This is Ned,’ Sylvie said to Nath. ‘We can trust him.’

Nath grinned. ‘Are you going to marry him?’ she blurted.

Ned smothered a smile.

Sylvie looked mortified, but passed it off with a joke. ‘Not tonight,’ she said. She hastily changed the subject. ‘What’s happening at home?’

‘Pierre’s in a bad mood – something went wrong yesterday.’

Ned said: ‘Coligny didn’t die, that’s what went wrong for Pierre.’

‘Anyway, he’s gone to the Guise palace this evening.’

Sylvie said: ‘Is Odette at home?

‘She’s gone to see her mother and taken Alain with her.’

Sylvie explained to Ned: ‘Odette is Pierre’s wife, and Alain is his stepson.’ Ned was intrigued by this glimpse into the private life of such a famous villain. ‘I didn’t know about the stepson.’

‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another day.’ Sylvie turned back to Nath. ‘Ned needs to look at the notebook.’

Nath stood up. ‘Come on, then. This is the perfect time.’

They walked around the block. It was a poor neighbourhood, and Pierre’s home was a small house in a row. Ned was surprised by its modesty: Pierre was conspicuously affluent, with costly clothing and jewellery. But noblemen such as the duke of Guise sometimes liked to keep their advisors in humble quarters, to discourage them from getting above their station. And a place such as this might be useful for clandestine meetings.

Nath discreetly took them in through the back door. There were just two rooms on the ground floor, the living room and the kitchen. Ned could hardly believe that he was inside the private home of the dreaded Pierre Aumande. He felt like Jonah in the belly of the whale.

On the floor of the living room was a document chest. Nath picked up a sewing bag and took from it a pin that had been carefully bent into a hook shape. With the pin she unlocked the chest.

Amazing, Ned thought. Just like that. So easy.

Nath opened the lid of the chest.

It was empty.

‘Oh!’ she said. ‘The book has gone!’

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then Sylvie spoke. ‘Pierre has taken it with him to the Guise palace,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But why?’

Ned said: ‘Because he’s going to use it, presumably. Which means he’s about to implement his plan of murdering every Protestant nobleman in Paris – probably tonight.’

Sylvie’s face showed fear. ‘God help us,’ she said.

‘You have to warn people.’

‘They must get out of Paris – if they can.’

‘If they can’t, tell them to come to the English embassy.’

‘There must be hundreds, including all the visitors who came for the wedding. You can’t get them all into the embassy.’