The poisoned chalice

and escorted by two soldiers, was led off to her own chamber. Dacourt and the rest, who had been standing outside, hurried to greet us. It was rather ludicrous to see how they had regained their usual composure. Dacourt, the bluff soldier, damning the French and Clinton as their spy; Peckle once more the industrious clerk; and Millet recovered enough to have cleaned the dirt from his foppish face. 'What will happen now?' Dacourt barked. Agrippa smiled. 'Patience, Sir John, patience!'
    We stood in a silent circle outside the door of the great hall, undisturbed by any sound except the calls of the sentries on the parapet wall and the yapping of a dog. We must have stayed a quarter of an hour before Agrippa, followed by the rest of us, re-entered the darkened hall. Clinton still sat in his chair behind the great table on the dais. At first I thought nothing had changed but, as we drew nearer, I saw his staring eyes were glassy and empty. The lips were parted, the white face twisted in the rictus of death, and the cup which had contained some deadly draught still rolled eerily on the table top. 'A tragic end to a tragic life,' Benjamin observed. 'So may all traitors die,' Dacourt intoned firmly.
    Agrippa pronounced, 'Amen,' issuing instructions for Clinton's corpse, chamber and possessions to be rigorously searched and for the Lady Francesca to be returned to her convent as soon as day broke. Agrippa then came between Benjamin and myself, linking his arms through ours.
    'Master Benjamin, Master Shallot, you have my thanks and you will receive those of His Eminence the Cardinal and His Majesty the King.' He stopped and smiled at each of us. 'Hand me over the good Abbe Gerard's book and this matter will be finished.'
    Benjamin gave Doctor Agrippa what he wanted but Wolsey's enigmatic clerk had scarcely closed the door behind him when my master announced: 'We aren't finished, Roger.' 'You mean the ring?'
    He made a face. 'No, our noble king must accept that he wagered and lost. He will never get the ring back. I mean Vauban.' 'What about him, master?'
    Benjamin caught my fearful look and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Clinton may have led the assassin to Agnes, but Vauban's the assassin. I am going to kill the bastard!'
    I stared at my master's closed face. I have never seen such a change in someone so gentle. Despite the uncovering of Clinton's treason, the fury still seethed within him. 'Why, Benjamin?' I asked. 'Because he killed Agnes.' 'But she was my betrothed.'
    'Yes, exactly, and you are my friend.' Benjamin turned away to hide his face. 'I have been through the same hell as you, Roger, only in my case Johanna's mind died, not her body. I killed the man responsible and I shall do the same on your behalf!'
    'No, I'll do it, master,' I lied glibly, hoping he wouldn't hear my bowels churn in fright.
    Benjamin turned round and, though he blinked, I saw the tears in his eyes. 'Roger, Roger, don't be silly. Vauban's a swordsman. He would kill you in a minute.'
    'Oh, thank you,' I replied sarcastically. 'And how are you going to do it? Like Clinton would, poison in a cup or a dagger in the dark?'
    Benjamin sat down on the edge of his bed. 'No,' he replied evenly. 'Today is Wednesday, tomorrow the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul. As in England, all our court officials will observe the holy day. No business will be transacted at the French court. Vauban will be with his family in the Rue des Moines.' Benjamin smiled bleakly. 'After all, Roger, he did invite us to call on him!'
    My master would not be dissuaded. Next morning he drew a new sword belt, hanger, wrist guard and dagger from the chateau's stores and at my request obtained the same for me. 'You need not come, Roger,' he remarked.
    ‘I would follow you to the ends of the earth, master,' I lied, and trusted the meagre breakfast I had eaten would stay in my stomach.
    We left Maubisson at first light. The chateau was now strangely silent as if the servants knew about the terrible drama played out in the great hall the night before. In the courtyard grooms were preparing horses so we must have left before the Lady Francesca. All I can say is I never saw or heard of her again.
    We reached Paris: being a holy day the city was strangely quiet, the great processions would not be held until the afternoon. We made our way by quiet side streets and narrow alleyways to the wealthy quarter on the right bank of the Seine and the Rue des Moines. The city was just about to stir: