Doctor Who: The Massacre (12 page)

At the end of their chant, the Abbot began to intone in a high falsetto voice and circle the stake. He was followed by a cleric, whom Steven recognised as the rotund priest from the Cathedral, carrying an ampulla from which the Abbot sprinkled holy water onto the unlit fire.

When he had completed the round the Abbot raised his staff into the air and with his normal voice, cried out: ‘Let this cleansing fire consume your demonaical terrestial abode and force you, Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, to return to Hades to suffer the unending agonies of perdition.’ He lowered the staff, held out his other hand and commanded in ringing tones: ‘Bring forth the Flame of Righteousness and of the True Faith.’ An acolyte, holding a flaming torch, ran over and handed it to him.

‘Hie thee hence, Satan’, the Abbot screamed and threw the torch onto one of the bales of straw.

The King held a lace handkerchief to his nose and expressed the hope that the smoke would not start him coughing as he wanted to discuss the coming war against Spain with the Admiral, who beamed with pleasure. But the topic was barely broached when the intense heat of the bonfire drove everyone from the courtyard and the King, before returning to the Louvre, ordered the doors to be locked and desired everyone to accompany him to the Bastille at nine o’clock the following morning to view the cinders.

Steven was quietly frantic as he rode back with Muss behind de Coligny to the Admiral’s house.

‘You said the Doctor laughed when you told him it was to be burned at the stake?’ He kept his voice as controlled as he could.

‘Yes, Steven, he thought it was the funniest joke he had ever heard and called us all children,’ Muss replied, and then looked at Steven questioningly. ‘But what is it?’

‘The Doctor didn’t tell you?’ Steven queried.

Muss shook his head and said ‘no’.

‘He’s the one to ask, not me,’ Steven replied.

‘But you do know?’ Muss persisted.

‘Some of the answers, yes,’ Steven admitted. ‘But not all of them, by any means.’

‘Although he does,’ Muss stated.

Stevens nodded. ‘Every last one,’ he said and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

The tocsin bell began to toll as they reached the Admiral’s house and Steven found himself installed in a comfortable room and invited to dine with Muss. The food was exemplary and the wine vintage burgundy which made absurd the experiences of the two previous nights, jail-to-palace and tomb.

‘They’ve got Anne, you know,’ Steven said regretfully as he toyed with his glass.

‘So you believe,’ Muss replied.

‘No, it’s a fact,’ Steven continued. ‘Duval told me.’

‘Duval?’

‘At the Bastille this evening. I don’t know who he thinks I am but he came over and congratulated me for getting her back,’ Steven answered. ‘And then he went on to say that Mauryvard or Merriverd was here and that it was on for tomorrow. I didn’t understand a word.’

‘That name, Steven, that name, what was it?’ Muss’s voice was suddenly tense.

‘I’ve told you,’ Steven was taken aback. ‘Mauryviard, Merrivert, something like that, I was worrying about Anne and then the trumpets started blaring.’

‘Maurevert, Steven, was it Maurevert?’ Muss carefully pronounced each syllable.

Steven turned the name over in his head before replying. ‘Yes, Nicholas, that’s it – Maurevert.’

Muss pointed at Steven: ‘And Duval said it was on for tomorrow?’

‘Yes,’ Steven replied.

Muss’s fist crashed down on the table. ‘Dear God,’ he cried, ‘they mean to assassinate him.’

‘Who?’ a bewildered Steven asked.

‘The Admiral, Admiral de Coligny,’ Muss replied.

13

Muss took Steven down to the cellars of the house and, lighting a burning brand, he led the way into the tunnels.

‘For us, there’s no such thing as the curfew,’ he told Steven as they hurried towards the home of King Henri of Navarre.

‘And the Doctor is in one of these,’ Steven said.

‘A cave in a tunnel, though not this one,’ Muss replied and explained about the network under Paris which the Huguenots used.

They entered the house through the cellars and were informed that Lcrans was dining with the newly-weds, Henri and Marguerite.

‘Pray, interrupt them,’ Muss said. ‘I must talk to Viscount Lerans immediately. It’s a matter of the utmost urgency.’ They were ushered into an ante-room where Lerans joined them moments later, still wiping his mouth with a napkin.

‘What’s amiss, Nicholas?’ he asked and Muss repeated all that Steven had told him.

Lerans looked at Steven. ‘You are absolutely certain that was the name – Maurevert?’

‘As certain as I can be,’ Steven replied. ‘I’ve already told Nicholas my mind was elsewhere.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘But who is this Maurevert?’ he asked.

‘He’s well-known as a professional assassin who’ll kill Catholic or Huguenot alike as long as he is paid handsomely,’ Lerans explained, ‘and the Queen Mother’s privy purse can well afford his fee.’

‘So now we know who Bondot is.’ Muss closed his eyes.

‘But when and where tomorrow? Someone must know.’

‘Not true, Nicholas,’ Lerans shook his head. ‘Bondot chooses his own time and place: that’s the way he works.’

‘But he’ll need to know tomorrow’s itinerary for the Admiral,’ Muss pointed out.

‘Have you told de Coligny about this yet?’ Lerans asked.

‘No, Gaston, I haven’t, it can wait until morning.’ Muss opened his eyes with a slow smile: ‘By which time I shall have prepared a second schedule for the Admiral’s day.’

‘We need a third, Nicholas,’ said Lerans. A glint came into his eyes as he turned to Steven. ‘Who does Duval think you are?’ he asked.

‘I have no idea,’ Steven confessed. ‘I’ve only met the man three, no, four times including this evening, but he’s convinced I am someone else.’

Lerans pulled the bell cord and waited in silence until a liveried servant entered the room. ‘Give my humble excuses to their Majesties, but I am unavoidably detained,’

he said and then added as an afterthought, ‘Fetch a pitcher of good burgundy and three goblets.’

The servant bowed and left the room as Lerans turned back to Steven: ‘Now sit down and tell us everything you remember about your encounters with Duval.’

The pitcher was empty by the time Steven finished and Lerans called for another, then topped up their glasses.

‘Duval must be convinced you are a secret agent for the Abbot,’ he stated and looked to Muss for confirmation.

‘Don’t you agree, Nicholas?’

‘Yes, I do and I see what you’re driving at,’ Muss replied. ‘The third itinerary, a totally false one, is given surreptiously by Steven to Duval for Marshall Tavannes at the aftermath of the stake tomorrow morning.’

‘Precisely,’ Lerans said, ‘the first itinerary is posted publicly on the gates, the second is the one the Admiral will actually follow and the third is to fox Maurevert, alias Bondot.’ He stood up and looked at Steven. ‘If de Coligny dies tomorrow there will be civil war.’ Then he chuckled grimly. ‘Odd, isn’t it, Nicholas, that we entrust the future of France to two strangers of whom we knew nothing forty-eight hours ago.’

‘Of whom we still know very little,’ Muss replied reflectively.

Steven drained his glass. ‘I’ll do as you ask but immediately afterwards I wish to be reunited with the Doctor.’

Muss and Lerans exchanged a glance. ‘For averting a bloodbath that would be the least we could do,’ Lerans said.

The morning of the 22 August, 1572 was like a pageant in Paris because word of the destruction of the ‘satanic abode’

at the stake had spread quickly throughout the city. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky and the streets from the Louvre to the Bastille were lined with crowds as the procession of clerics and dignitaries, including Steven and Duval, Lerans and Moss, made its way towards the square to await the King’s arrival with his Court at nine o’clock.

All around the Bastille was packed with the curious, but the area directly in front of the wooden doors and on either side was kept clear by halberdiers. The dignitaries dismounted and their horses were led away.

Steven gave Lerans and Muss a sideways glance and Lerans’s nod was almost imperceptible. Then Steven moved towards Duval who was talking to a secretary from the Duke of Anjou’s retinue but when Steven caught Duval’s eye the conversation ended and Duval came over cautiously to him. Steven offered to shake hands and the folded piece of parchment was neatly transferred from one palm to the other.

‘Tavannes,’ Steven murmured and turned away.

Cheering could be heard in the distance as the royal entourage approached the Bastille. Both Huguenots and Catholics were represented as Admiral de Coligny rode side by side with Marshall Tavannes and Henri of Navarre with the Duke of Anjou. Behind them came the royal carriage with the King and the Abbot of Amboise and it stopped about twenty metres in front of the doors.

‘Your Majesty, the power of the Lord shall be revealed,’

the Abbot said fervently.

‘All praise to God,’ the King replied as the Abbot descended from the carriage. The Abbot wore the same habit as the previous evening but on his head he wore a mitre instead of a cowl and the staff he held in his left hand was made of silver and topped by a golden cruciform. With his right hand pressed firmly against the cross on his chest, he paced slowly towards the door between the two ranks of chanting clerics swinging their smoking thuribles of incense. When he reached the doors the Abbot struck them three times with the tip of his staff and commanded, in the name of the Lord, that they be opened. Two halberdiers and an officer who carried the keys approached, the doors were unlocked and swung back.

There was a gasp of astonishment and consternation from everyone present except the Abbot who recoiled in horror. The TARDIS, impeccably clean, even shiningly so, stood in the middle of a carpet of ashes at the centre of the courtyard.

Steven’s secondary reaction after his immediate sense of relief that the TARDIS hadn’t been destroyed was two-fold; the first was, knowing the Doctor, how could he have ever possibly imagined that it would burn? and the second was that obviously the Doctor had been on board and operated the EDF system. Suppressing a smile, Steven looked around half-expecting to see the Doctor with his arms folded laughing at everybody. But the only person who resembled the Doctor was the Abbot and he was apoplectic with rage and humiliation.

‘Shut those accursed doors so that we look no more upon that diabolical abomination,’ he screamed and retreated with a noticeable absence of dignity to the royal carriage where the King asked him what he proposed to do next. ‘Your Majesty must call an immediate Council of War, a Catholic Council to which heretical Huguenots are excluded,’ the Abbot snapped.

‘If my Lord Abbot so wishes,’ the King replied, ‘but once matters of religion and this thing’ – he waved his hand towards the closed doors – ‘are settled we propose a general Council of War.’

‘Do you talk of Spain, sire?’ the Abbot asked with incredulity but the King merely smiled and ordered a return to the Louvre.

‘We struck a bargain,’ Steven reminded Muss as they rode back to de Coligny’s house, ‘and I’ve kept my side of it.’

‘We’ll honour ours as soon as the Admiral’s safely home,’ Muss replied and then looked at Steven intently before he asked, ‘What is that phoenix we have just seen?’

‘Something indestructible that has nothing to do with the Devil but belongs to the Doctor,’ Steven answered.

‘Who is a sorcerer,’ Muss said.

‘Steven smiled: ‘A magician rather, because of his intelligence.’

Muss was curious. ‘What is his learning and where did he study?’

‘I don’t know,’ Steven admitted, ‘we met on our travels.’

‘You’re a fortunate young man,’ Muss said, ‘such a companion is rare.’

‘Don’t I know it!’ Steven replied suppressing his laughter.

When they reached the house Muss extracted a promise from de Coligny not to leave it without him. Reluctantly, the Admiral agreed, saying that he didn’t know what the fuss was all about as no one was going to assassinate him: his relationship with the King was too close. But, nonetheless, de Coligny thanked him for his help and bade him farewell before Muss took Steven to the tunnels and a waiting dog cart.

‘This is blindfold astronaut training,’ Steven muttered to himself as they hurtled through the darkness towards the cave where the Doctor greeted him.

‘My dear boy, how nice to see you! Exhilarating means of transportation that, isn’t it? he enthused, pointing to the dog cart. ‘Now, come and meet my friends.’ Taking a speechless Steven by one elbow he led him over to the group of smiling apothecaries and their wives.

Steven was still recovering from the shock of the Doctor’s casual manner towards him when Lerans came racing into the cave, jumped out of the dog cart and drew Muss to one side.

‘There are problems, Nicholas,’ he said. ‘The King has called an extraordinary meeting of the Council.’

‘Why?’ Muss asked and Lerans glanced at Steven and the Doctor.

‘The Abbot called for one,’ Lerans explained. ‘It’s about their machine and Huguenots are excluded but there’s to be a general meeting afterwards so now none of our itineraries apply.’

‘It has created the same problem for Maurevert,’ Muss observed. ‘He won’t know either where the Admiral will be from one minute to the next.’

‘But he’s so resourceful and he’s operating on his own,’

Lerans replied.

‘By your expressions, gentlemen, there would appear to be a certain difficulty – if not several – in which we are involved,’ the Doctor remarked, coming over to them with Steven.

‘Doctor, this is no longer your concern,’ Lerans replied,

‘both of you have honoured your agreements with us so you are free to leave and continue your journey when you will.’

‘Hmm... ’ the Doctor said after a brief reflection and turned to Steven. ‘Are you ready to quit Paris, young man?’

he asked.

‘No, Doctor, I’m not,’ Steven replied.