Ken Follett - A Column of Fire

‘You’re wrong,’ the queen mother interrupted. ‘His majesty the king has calmed their fears. He has ordered an inquiry into the shooting, and he has promised retribution. He has visited Coligny on his sickbed. There may be a few hotheads in the rue Vieille du Temple, but their leaders are satisfied.’

‘That is exactly what I told Duke Henri,’ Pierre said. ‘But he believes the Huguenots are on the point of rising up, and fears that his only hope may be to mount a pre-emptive attack, and destroy their ability to threaten him.’

The king said: ‘Tell him that I, King Charles IX, guarantee his safety.’

‘Thank you, your majesty. I will certainly give him that powerful reassurance.’ In fact, the assurance was more or less worthless. A strong king, feared by his barons, might have been able to protect Coligny, but Charles was physically and psychologically weak. Caterina would understand that, even if Charles did not, so Pierre directed his next sentence to her. ‘But Duke Henri asks if he may suggest something further?’ He held his breath. He was being bold: the king might hear advice from noblemen, but not normally in a message carried by an underling.

There was a silence. Pierre feared he was about to be thrown out for insolence.

Caterina looked at him through narrowed eyes. She knew that this would be the real reason for Pierre’s visit. But she did not reprimand him. In itself that was a measure of how tenuous was her grip on control and how close the city was to chaos.

At last the king said: ‘What do you want?’

‘Some simple security precautions that would guard against violence by either side.’

Caterina looked suspicious. ‘Such as?’

‘Lock the city gates, so that no one can come in from outside the walls — neither the Huguenots in the suburbs, nor Catholic reinforcements.’ Pierre paused. The Catholic reinforcements were imaginary. It was the Huguenots he wanted to keep out. But would Caterina see that?

King Charles said: ‘Actually, that’s quite a good idea.’

Caterina said nothing.

Pierre went on as if he had received consent. ‘Then shackle the boats on the waterfront, and pull the iron chains across the river that prevent hostile ships approaching the city. That way troublemakers can’t get into Paris by water.’ And Huguenots would not be able to get out.

‘Also a sensible safeguard,’ said the king.

Pierre felt he was winning, and ploughed on. ‘Order the provost to arm the militia and place guards at every major crossroads in the city, with orders to turn back any large group of armed men, regardless of what religion they claim.’

Caterina saw immediately that this was not a neutral move. ‘The militia are all Catholics, of course,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ Pierre conceded. ‘But they constitute our only means of keeping order.’ He said no more. He preferred not to enter into a discussion about even-handedness, for in truth nothing about his plan was neutral. But keeping order was Caterina’s main concern.

Charles said to his mother: ‘I see no harm in such plainly defensive measures.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Caterina replied. She mistrusted the entire Guise family, but what Pierre suggested made sense.

‘The duke has one more suggestion,’ said Pierre. Duke Henri had not suggested any of this, but etiquette demanded that Pierre pretend the ideas came from his aristocratic master. ‘Deploy the city artillery. If we line up the guns in the place de Grève, they will be ready to defend the city hall — or to be positioned elsewhere, if necessary.’ Or to mow down a Protestant crowd, he thought.

The king nodded. ‘We should do all these things. The duke of Guise is a sound military planner. Please give him my thanks.’

Pierre bowed.

Caterina said to Charles: ‘You’ll have to summon the provost.’ No doubt she thought the delay would give her time to mull over Pierre’s suggestions and look for snags.

But Pierre was not going to allow her that chance. He said: ‘Your majesty, I took the liberty of bringing the provost with me, and, in fact, he is outside the door, waiting for your orders.’

‘Well done,’ said Charles. ‘Have him come in.’

Le Charron came in bowing deeply, excited and intimidated to be in the royal presence.

Pierre took it upon himself to speak for the king, and instructed Le Charron to carry out all the measures he had proposed. During this recital Pierre feared that Charles or — more likely — Caterina might have second thoughts, but they only nodded assent. Caterina looked as if she could not quite believe that Duke Henri wanted only to protect himself and prevent rioting; but clearly she could not figure out what ulterior motive Pierre might have, and she did not dissent.

Le Charron thanked the king volubly for the honour of his instructions and vowed to carry them out meticulously, and then they were dismissed. Backing out, bowing, Pierre could hardly believe that he had got away with it, and every second he expected that Caterina would call him back. Then he was outside and the door was closed and he was another step closer to victory.

With Le Charron he walked through the wardrobe and the guardroom, then down the stairs.

Darkness had fallen by the time they stepped out into the square courtyard where Biron waited with their horses.

Before parting company with Le Charron, Pierre had one more deception to perpetrate. ‘Something the king forgot to mention,’ he said.

That phrase on its own would have aroused instant suspicion in an experienced courtier, but Le Charron was overwhelmed by Pierre’s apparent closeness to the monarch, and he was desperately eager to please. ‘Anything, of course,’ he said.

‘If the king’s life is in danger, the bell of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois will ring continuously, and other churches with trustworthy Catholic priests will follow suit, all over Paris. That will be the alarm signal to you that the Huguenots have risen up against the king, and you must attack them.’

‘Could that really happen?’ Le Charron said, rapt.

‘It could happen tonight, so be prepared.’

It did not occur to Le Charron to doubt Pierre. He accepted what he was told as fact. ‘I will be ready,’ he vowed.

Pierre took the book with the black cover from his saddlebag. He ripped out the leaves bearing the names of noble assassins and victims. The rest of the pages were devoted to ordinary Paris Huguenots. He handed the book to Le Charron. ‘Here is a list of every known Protestant in Paris, with addresses,’ he said.

Le Charron was amazed. ‘I had no idea that such a document existed!’

‘I have been preparing it for many years,’ Pierre said, not without a touch of pride. ‘Tonight it meets its destiny.’

Le Charron took the book reverently. ‘Thank you.’

Pierre said solemnly: ‘If you hear the bells, it is your duty to kill everyone named in that book.’

Le Charron swallowed. Until now he had not appreciated that he might be involved in a massacre. But Pierre had led him to this point so carefully, by such gradual and reasonable stages, that he nodded agreement. He even added a suggestion of his own. ‘In case it comes to fighting, I will order the militia to identify themselves, perhaps with a white armband, so that they know each other.’

‘Very good idea,’ said Pierre. ‘I’ll tell his majesty that you came up with that.’

Le Charron was thrilled. ‘That would be a great honour.’

‘You’d better get going. You have a lot to do.’

‘Yes.’ Charron mounted his horse, still clutching the black book. Before leaving he suffered a troubled moment. ‘Let us hope that none of these precautions proves necessary.’

‘Amen,’ said Pierre insincerely.