"Nais will be going out, no doubt after the captain and the others have left. I want you to follow her."

"Nais? Why?"

"You'll see."

"Ah ... right."

3.

Arriving by way of rue Beauregard, the marquis de Gagniere dismounted in front of Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Nouvelle church and hitched his horse to a ring. It was still very early in the morning and not many people were up and about. But the elegant gentleman still found it prudent to entrust his mount to the watchful eye of one of the vendors of eau-de-vie eau-de-vie who, in the early hours of the day, went around Paris-crying " who, in the early hours of the day, went around Paris-crying "Vi! Vi! Drink! Drink!"-selling little cups of alcohol which were bought and eagerly drunk on the spot by people of the lower cla.s.ses before their hard day of labour. Drink! Drink!"-selling little cups of alcohol which were bought and eagerly drunk on the spot by people of the lower cla.s.ses before their hard day of labour.

The church was silent, dark, damp, and empty. As was usual in churches there were no pews, but chairs were stored in a corner ready to be rented out during services by the porter, who was also charged with ensuring the tranquillity of the premises, chasing away any beggars or stray dogs who attempted to enter with equal zeal. Gagniere advanced between the columns and placed himself in front of the high altar, near a thin young man with smooth cheeks and crystalline blue eyes. The young man did not react until they stood almost shoulder to shoulder. He wore an ochre doublet that matched his breeches, boots, and was carrying a sword at his side. If he was not praying then he seemed at least meditative, with his eyes shut and his hat in his hand.

"I am rather surprised to see you here this morning," said the marquis after a moment.

"Have I ever missed one of our appointments?" Arnaud de Laincourt replied, opening his eyes.

"No, to be sure. But, until now, you had never been arrested."

For a few seconds, the former ensign of His Eminence's Guards did not respond.

"So you know," he said at last.

"Naturally. Did you believe that such news would escape our attention?"

"No, I didn't. But so quickly-"

"We are everywhere, Laincourt. Even at the Palais-Cardinal. You, better than anyone, should know that."

"And at Le Chatelet, marquis? Are you present there, too?"

Gagniere pulled a face.

"The walls there are, shall we say ... thicker."

They remained silent for a moment in the sinister refuge of this deserted church where their secret meetings took place, always at dawn.

Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Nouvelle had begun its life as a chapel, which was destroyed by soldiers of the Catholic League when the king of Navarre-and future Henri IV of France-laid siege to Paris in 1591. The existing church had been built in its place, with the first stone laid by Queen Anne d'Autriche. As the city absorbed its faubourgs, so the church now found itself at the extreme limit of the Saint-Denis district, right by the new city wall; only the narrow width of a newly laid street lined with building sites separated it from the bastions between the Poissonniere and Saint-Denis gates. This was the very edge of Paris.

"I am still a faithful servant of the Black Claw," announced Laincourt in a calm voice. "My loyalty remains unchanged."

"Permit me to doubt that. Your liberation scarcely argues in your favour. By all rights, at this moment you should be locked away in Vincennes castle waiting to be put to the question. But here you are, having been found guilty of treason, free to come and go as you please. You must admit that the extraordinary clemency the cardinal has shown you offers ample grounds for suspicion...."

With a conciliatory shrug, Laincourt indicated that he understood. He explained: "I possess a doc.u.ment which protects me; it contains a secret the cardinal fears will be divulged."

Perplexed, Gagniere frowned. Then, almost amused, he said: "A doc.u.ment that you have therefore taken pains not to transmit to us. A shining example of loyalty!"

"I am loyal, but also cautious," Laincourt replied unmoved. "I knew that a day like today would come."

This time it was the turn of the marquis to accept the other's argument: he was forced to recognise that a "day like today" had indeed come.

"Very well. What is this doc.u.ment?"

"It's a list naming France's secret correspondents in the Spanish royal court. It is in reliable hands and will be released if ever I delay too long in giving signs of life. The cardinal had no choice. He and I agreed that I should remain alive and free as long as this list remained secret."

"You are very naive if you imagine Richelieu will be satisfied with such an arrangement for long. He will deceive you at the very first opportunity. He may already be working to do so as we speak. He will find your list and have you murdered."

"That is precisely why I am turning to you rather than galloping toward the nearest border."

"Where is this list?"

"In reliable hands, as I told you. And they will remain anonymous."

Gagniere's tone became menacing.

"It is a secret which we could tear out of you."

"Not before the list would be brought to the knowledge of all."

"So? We do not share the cardinal's fears. On the contrary, we would be delighted to see relations between France and Spain deteriorate even further."

"To be sure," allowed Laincourt. "However, information concerning the Black Claw itself would be revealed at the same time. And believe me, this information could be most damaging."

Gagniere greeted this news calmly, measuring what Laincourt knew about the Black Claw and the danger it might pose.

"Another list?" he suggested.

"Another list."

"You are playing a very dangerous game, monsieur de Laincourt...."

"I have been employed as a professional spy for some time now, Gagniere. Long enough to know that servants of my type are sacrificed just as easily as the foot soldiers on a field of battle."

The marquis sighed, no doubt annoyed not to have the upper hand.

"Let us cut to the chase. You would not be here if you had nothing to offer me. Speak."

"I offer to deliver both lists to you as a token of my loyalty. You will destroy the one and do as you see fit with the other."

"These papers protect you and yet you would separate yourself from them? Doesn't that run contrary to your interests?"

"I will separate myself from them, even though I'll risk incurring the cardinal's wrath. But, in return, I want to be a.s.sured of the Black Claw's protection."

Gagniere was beginning to understand where this was leading, but nevertheless asked: "How?"

"I want to join the circle of initiates to which you belong. Besides, I believe I have already earned that right on merit alone."

"It is not up to you to be the judge of that."

"I know. So take this proposal to the person who is."

4.

Barely distracted this time by the noisy, colourful crowd that milled about on the Pont Neuf, Ballardieu followed Nais discreetly. He was in a foul mood and, with an angry look in his eye, talked to himself as he pushed through the throng.

"Ballardieu, you're not a complicated man," he grumbled. "You're not a complicated man because you don't have very much in the way of wits and you know it. You have loyalty and courage but not much wit, and that's simply the way of things. And you do as you're told, usually without protest. Or without protesting too much, which is the same thing. You are a soldier, even a good soldier. You obey orders. But I know you would greatly appreciate it if someone did you the honour of explaining, just once in a while, for the sole pleasure of breaking with old habit, the orders they gave you...."

At this point in his monologue, keeping an eye on Nais's white bonnet, Ballardieu repeated Agnes's words and his own, hastily exchanged at the Hotel de l'epervier.

"'I want you to follow her.' 'Nais? Why?' 'You'll see.' 'Ah ... right.' A fine explanation! And what did you reply to it? 'Ah ... right.' Nothing else ... ! Ballardieu, you might have even less wit than you imagine. Because, in the end, there's nothing preventing you from demanding an explanation, is there? Well, granted, the girl had that look in her eye and you know very well that she wouldn't have explained anything at all. But at least you'd have tried instead of meekly following orders...."

Now getting himself worked up, Ballardieu shook his head.

"Good soldier! Good faithful dog, more like it ... ! And where will the first blows land when things go wrong? On the dog, not on the mistress, by G.o.d! Because have no doubt about it, Ballardieu, this business will go wrong and it'll do so at the expense of yours truly. No one acts behind the captain's back and gets away with it. Sooner or later, you-"

Lost in his thoughts, he had b.u.mped into a lampoonist who fell backward in an explosion of printed papers.

"What?" flared Ballardieu angrily and in perfectly bad faith. "Can't you watch where you're going? Is this the new fashion in Paris?"

The other man, bowled over in both the literal and figurative senses, took some time to recover himself. He was still wondering what had happened to him, and gaped with amazement and fear at this bull of a man who had come out of nowhere and charged into him as he was haranguing the crowd and brandishing his sheets which-as he was unable to blame the king directly-accused Richelieu of crushing the people beneath the weight of taxes. The individual who had so abruptly entered the life of the lampoonist was not someone with whom he would wish to seek a dispute. Without being particularly tall, he was wide, heavy, and ma.s.sive, and in addition to being red in the face and fuming, he was armed with a good-sized rapier.

But Ballardieu, to the great relief of his innocent victim, pa.s.sed almost at once from anger to compa.s.sion and regret.

"No, friend. Forgive me. It's my fault.... Here, take my hand."

The lampoonist found himself catapulted upward rather than simply raised.

"I offer my apologies. You'll accept them, won't you? Yes? Good man! Nothing broken, I hope.... Good, I would happily pay for the brushing of your clothes but I'm short of time. I promise to buy you a drink when next we meet. Agreed? Perfect! Good day, friend!"

With these words, Ballardieu went on his way, while the other man, still tottering and dazed, an idiotic smile on his lips, bade him farewell with a hesitant wave.

Far ahead of him, Nais had fortunately taken no notice of the incident and he had to quicken his pace in order not to lose sight of her. After Pont Neuf she followed rue Saint-Denis, then rue de la Vieille-Cordonnerie, came out on rue de la Ferronnerie, and went up rue Saint-Honore, which Ballardieu had never known to seem so long. They pa.s.sed in front of the scaffolding of the Palais-Cardinal and went as far as rue Gaillon, into which Nais turned. Recently absorbed by the capital by the construction of wall know as "Yellow Ditches," this former faubourg was foreign territory to Ballardieu. He was about to discover its layout, its houses, and its building sites.

Opposite rue des Moineaux, Nais crossed a large porch that opened onto a courtyard full of people and animation, overlooked by a strange tower that stood at the end, like an oversized dovecote. A sign hung over the entrance where one could read the words: "Gaget Messenger Service."

"'Gaget Messenger Service'?" muttered Ballardieu with a frown. "What's this, then?"

Seeing a pa.s.serby, he asked him: "Excuse me, sir, what is this place of business?"

"There? Why it's the Gaget Messenger Service, of course!"

And the man, in a hurry like all Parisians and as lofty as most of them, walked away.

Feeling his temper rise, Ballardieu sucked in his cheeks, took a deep breath in the vain hope of controlling the murderous impulses that had entered his head, and caught up with the pa.s.serby in a few strides, gripping him by the shoulder and forcing him to spin round.

"I know how to read, monsieur. But what is it exactly?"

He was breathing hard through his nose, was red-faced again, and his eyes were glaring dangerously. The other man realised his mistake. Turning slightly pale, he explained that the company owned by Gaget offered customers a postal service using dragonnets, that this service was both rapid and reliable, although somewhat expensive, and ...

"That's enough, that's enough ..." said Ballardieu, finally releasing the Parisian to go about his business.

He hesitated for a moment over whether or not he should enter and then decided to take up a position at a discreet distance in order to wait and to observe-after all, Nais might go elsewhere next. It wasn't long before the old soldier saw a familiar figure come out of Gaget's establishment.

It was not Nais.

It was Saint-Lucq.

5.

La Fargue and Almades had no trouble finding the house Cecile had indicated, which stood at the fringe of the faubourg Saint-Denis where the buildings faded away into open countryside. It was surrounded by an orchard enclosed by a high wall, in the middle of a landscape of fields, pastures, small dwellings, and large vegetable gardens. The spot was charming, peaceful, and bucolic, yet was less than a quarter-league from Paris. There were peasants working in the fields and herds of cows and sheep grazing. To the east, beyond some leafy greenery, the rooftops of the Saint-Louis hospital could be seen.

Along the way they had encountered a band of riders coming in the other direction at full gallop, forcing them to draw aside toward the ditches. In normal circ.u.mstances they would have taken little notice of them. But the band was headed by a one-eyed man dressed in black leather who strongly resembled the individual Marciac had surprised the night before, organising the abduction of the young Cecile Grimaux.

"I don't believe in coincidences of this kind," La Fargue had commented as they watched the riders disappear toward Paris.

And, after a meaningful look in reply from Almades, they both promptly spurred their mounts in an effort to arrive at their destination as quickly as possible.

They did not slow down until they reached the gate. It was opened wide onto the path that led straight through the orchard to the house.

"Are your pistols loaded?" asked the old captain.

"Yes."

Riding side by side, all their senses alert, they advanced up the path between rows of blossoming trees. The air was sweet, full of delicate fruity fragrances. A radiant morning sun dispensed a light that was joyfully greeted by birdsong. The foliage around them rustled in the gentle breeze.