‘I know Carlotta very well.’

‘Carlotta?’

‘His concubine. I’ve only met Fondi once or twice in my travels and I respect the man but I got to know Carlotta in Urbino years ago when she was an artists’ model. You’ll see her face smiling down from a dozen altar pieces playing the madonna with a variety of delightful children on her lap posing as the Christ child.’

‘Fondi allowed her to work as a model?’ Hildegard was aghast. The man was no more than a pander.

‘This was her work before she met him. I was the one who brought them together.’

‘I see.’

‘I doubt whether you do.’

Feeling that she was somehow cast in a less than attractive role she replied sharply, ‘I’m not the least interested in her and her relationship with - ’

‘With me?’ he asked. ‘Of course not. Why should you be? Now, my dear white heart, what was it you wanted to ask me?’

‘Do be serious. This is important. I suppose you can vouch for the fact that Fondi and his - and Signora Carlotta - went over to Villeneuve with everyone else?’

‘Of course. I was invited to stay at his house. He’s had a rather beautiful villa built in the Italian style in splendid gardens. The perfect setting for his pearl, as he says. That’s Carlotta, of course. They are each fortunate to have found their soul mate.’

Hildegard sighed impatiently. ‘And to have no guilt about breaking vows of celibacy either. So, to continue, Hubert, can you vouch for him? He did not stop off at the chapel of St Nicolas for example?’

‘I told you before when you were cross-questioning me, we thought of it but decided to press on to our beds.’

‘Did you notice anyone not follow you over?’

‘Again, as I told you, it was a terrible night, wind, rain, and once away from the chapel light, pitch dark, with the river raging close below. At one point we thought the arches were going to give way and pitch us into the torrent.’

‘Luckily they did not,’ she replied somewhat tartly. ‘Thank you, that’s all I wanted to know.’

‘Do you consider me a reliable witness, Hildegard?’

She felt a stab of guilt. ‘In some things, Hubert.’

‘But not in others?’ He hesitated then turned with a curt ‘Vale!’ and walked off.

Why was he so infuriating? She muttered a few calming words to herself that she was glad no one could overhear and went in search of the next witness.

**

Bellefort. She had seen him around the palace. He was one of those with a following. Now when she was conducted into his opulent privy chamber in the guest wing, in a part reserved for visiting monarchs, she noticed at once the confusion of young men attending him, one peeling grapes for him from a silver dish, another to massage his feet in their silk stockings, another to sing a ballade in a nasal accent like a troubadour with much superfluous tossing of his hair.

‘Dear domina, welcome!’ Bellefort greeted her with a languidly raised hand from his couch of silk in an accent so affected she had difficulty in understanding him. ‘The pleasure is all mine, pray be seated.’

An acolyte rushed forward with a velvet covered stool. To her chagrin she was forced to sit at the prelate’s feet among a bevy of his followers.

‘I have an interest in the murder of the English youth found in the treasury,’ she began, straight to the point.

‘Ah, such a loss. A young singer of incomparable delight,’ he drawled. ‘Grizac must be heartbroken at his loss. And how may I help?’

‘It seems his death set in train a series of events which are too boring to relate, your eminence, but they lead onto the death of Taillefer, the esquire of the duc de Berry.’

‘Le duc, my greatest friend, a distinguished collector, a scholar, a man of taste in this barbarous wasteland. His legend will live on forever. And?’

‘Taillefer - ’

‘Is that the esquire’s name?’ He pretended to puzzle over it.

‘It is,’ Hildegard’s voice sharpened. ‘The evidence suggests that he was murdered by someone crossing the bridge that night.’

‘Some barbarous cut-throat, a man with no soul, a being willing to barter a finely worked dagger, a glory of the artisan’s skill, for mere gold, and in an inn of all places, or so I’m told.’

‘Or maybe it was someone else entirely.’

‘Really?’ He expressed a show of interest. ‘Who, pray?’

‘His identity is at present unknown but be assured, it will be revealed very soon.’

‘Oh, I love revelations! And this will no doubt be due to your dogged tenacity, domina?’ His insult was veiled but Hildegard would have ignored it anyway. No time for pettiness now.

‘If I may persist in my doggedness, your eminence, did you happen to pause to offer a prayer to St Nicolas on the way across the bridge?’

‘Pshaw! What do you think, boys? Would I ever stop at the river chapel? A hole for travellers, mendicants and pilgrims to sweat out their prayers?’ There was instant laughter, rather high, somewhat tinkling.

‘Domina, may I remind you that in any case it was a night of atrocious weather? Anyone but a madman would want to cross to their own property as soon as possible. I am not made for harsh conditions, my dear.’

‘That is all I wished to know, your eminence. You saw no-one.’

‘I saw no-one. What’s more my litter was nearly pitched into the river and I had to keep the blind down as the sight of nature’s violence was too distressing. Now, I beg of you, stay a moment. Let us offer you something to brighten the austerity of your days.’

**

Patronised twice over, the first, obscurely, by Hubert, and now by Bellefort, Hildegard wondered why she had pitched herself into this web.

London beckoned.

Momentous events were taking place at Westminster and she was trapped in the inconsequential affairs of a distant backwater where corruption was the norm. Please, God and all the saints, let me go home. No-one would thank her for her efforts. For her dogged persistence. Go. Go back, an inner voice urged.

**

Then something she could not have foreseen happened. As she was leaving the Tinel after breaking her fast on the next morning, after a restless night with thoughts churning fruitlessly round in her dreams, a friar detached himself from the crowd and fell into step beside her.

‘Domina, pray forgive me. I have something to say to you.’

Thinking it was connected to her inquiries she halted to hear what he had to tell her.

‘It is this. It has not escaped my notice that you are an intimate of Abbot de Courcy. I beseech you, find some way of persuading him to vacate the palace for a day or two.’

She stared at him.

‘I can see this is a shock to your understanding. Plots are afoot. He is in danger. Persuade him to leave.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Of course not. How could you. I beg you to put your trust in me. Make sure he is absent from the palace for a few days until the danger is past.’

‘But what sort of danger?’

‘Danger to his life, domina.’

With that the friar melted into the crowd. She tried to follow but he disappeared round a corner and when she managed to pick her way after him the cloister was empty.

**

‘And you expect me to take fright at this and run away?’

‘Of course not. I’m only telling you because I feel I should pass it on and let you make up your own mind. I knew you’d make light of it. But at least you’re warned.’

Hubert slipped his arm in hers. ‘I think I should take this seriously, Hildegard. Let’s go away for a few days. Just you and me. We can take the hawks and have a fine time, hunting and exploring the countryside.’

‘Hubert.’

‘Come on, it may save my life. You heard what the friar said.’

‘This is ridiculous! You’ve just said you wouldn’t run.’