The Queen's Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

but one arm, his left severed at the shoulder.’
    ‘Leloup . . .’
    ‘Yes, that is the name I was given. François Leloup.’
    Walsingham leant forward. His brow darkened. ‘Well, well.’
    ‘Does the name mean something to you, Sir Francis?’
    ‘Yes, indeed it does. So the Wolf’s Snout is here, is he?’
    ‘The Wolf’s Snout?’ Leicester laughed.
    ‘ Le Museau du Loup . François Leloup has a rather magnificent nose. Long and sharp, like a wolf. Like his name. He is a doctor of medicine, but much more than that, he is as close to the Duke of Guise as I am to my prick. They are indivisible. When not healing the sick, he plots deaths on his master’s behalf. I have always believed he was the go-between connecting Guise to the assassin Maurevert. It was Leloup who paid the blood money and gave the order for Maurevert to shoot Admiral Coligny. And yet Dr Leloup is so discreet that he keeps his own hand clean. I know Leloup of old. Like his master, he is a man of infinite charm.’
    ‘If you delight in the company of wolves . . .’
    ‘He was there ten years ago on the day of infamy,’ Walsingham continued. ‘August the twenty-third in the year of our Lord fifteen seventy-two. The day the streets of Paris ran red and the cries of dying Protestants outsang the pealing bells. Leloup was at the side of Henri de Guise as they finished off the work begun by Maurevert and killed Admiral Coligny as he lay wounded. And yet I have reason to believe that he also saved Protestant lives when the royal mob ran riot and slaughtered women and children. The Catholics were killing, killing, killing, but Leloup saved my friend Jean d’Arpajon and his family from the sword. He took them to the Hôtel de Guise, where they were safe. I heard this from d’Arpajon’s own lips when he came to England seeking refuge, like so many Huguenots. And so when I have heard tell of the wickedness of Guise and Leloup, I have had pause for thought. Did they save d’Arpajon merely for money – for certainly he paid three thousand livres for his life – or out of pity?’
    ‘Guise show mercy!’ Leicester almost snorted with derision as he spoke. ‘He was at the very heart of the massacre. It is said his men were painted crimson, their hair tangled with gore, their hands sticky with blood.’
    Walsingham spread his hands as though to show they, at least, were free of blood. ‘Guise had cause to kill Coligny. He believed the admiral had assassinated his father. Perhaps, too, he took the opportunity to kill others among his enemies. But I do not believe he murdered the wholly innocent. Did Leloup marshal the wolves? Was he one of them? He is a puzzle to me, as is his master.’
    ‘But it sounds as if you liked them, Mr Secretary? You liked Leloup . . .’ Leicester was aghast.
    ‘He was amusing. It was hard not to like him. I felt much the same about Guise himself. At that time, before the massacre and years before his leadership of the Catholic League, I did not even believe the duke was a man of particular faith. He was not insane like King Charles, nor wicked like the Medici devil, and yet somehow she shifted the blame for all that happened on to Guise. Catherine de Medici could learn nothing from Machiavelli . . .’
    ‘So who plotted the massacre?’
    ‘The whole royal council of France. They were all in it, up to their very eyes in gore. But that is all by the by. Blood in the gutters. What we must now divine is where Leloup is and why he is here. Your thoughts, John?’
    ‘It must involve the Queen of Scots.’
    Walsingham looked towards Leicester. ‘You see, my lord, the young apprentice is already thinking like his master.’ He clapped his hands together lightly. ‘Yes, John, this most certainly involves the Scots witch. Guise wishes to secure her liberty and set her on the throne of England. He makes no secret of this. Why else is he building ships at the Normandy harbours if not as an invasion fleet?’
    ‘So