‘With due respect, your Majesty, you
were
the Regent of France. Since King Charles’s marriage you no longer are,’
the Doctor riposted.
Catherine dismissed the remark with a wave of her hand. ‘Our son does as he is told, my Lord Abbot.’ Then she leant forward on her throne, and lowered her voice.
‘And do not be concerned about the Admiral’s influence over the King. It will be short-lived. Monsieur Bondot will see to that.’
The Doctor knew he must draw her out, to sat exactly what was to happen to de Coligny. ‘Bondot?’ he asked in all innocence.
‘Our life has been spent in an attempt to reconcile Catholic and Huguenot, to see them live together side by side, free to worship as they will,’ she explained. ‘You may insist the Huguenots are heretics, my Lord Abbot, but it is a word we have tried to avoid – until now when our beloved France is placed in peril by these reckless men.’
‘And what has Bondot to do with it?’ the Doctor persisted.
The Queen Mother smiled at him. ‘Ask that of my younger son, the Duke of Anjou, or Henri of Guise or the Marshall Tavannes but not of us, my Lord Abbot, not of us.’
As he clambered into his carriage to return to the Cathedral and the crypt, the Doctor was dismayed that he had failed to prise the word ‘assassinate’ from Catherine’s lips but he felt he had sufficient clues to put Lerans and Muss on the right track.
‘First, show me the wretch,’ the Abbot of Amboise demanded, averting his eyes from the TARDIS in the middle of the courtyard. He was taken to a dank, dark dungeon where the unfortunate locksmith was chained to one wall.
‘In the name of Our Lord, I command thee, malignant Prince of Darkness, to be gone,’ the Abbot intoned while the locksmith moaned.
The Abbot turned to Duval. ‘Lucifer entered this miserable soul through his arm,’ he said and Duval nodded, his hands joined in silent prayer. ‘The possession is deep-rooted and the exorcism will be difficult and not without anguish,’ the Abbot added with fervour as the locksmith moaned again. ‘But the devil’s house must be destroyed before we begin,’ he announced, ‘no place must be left within which evil may hide.
Then he returned to the courtyard and, holding firmly onto the cross that hung around his neck, circled the TARDIS, studying it warily.
‘From the inferno of Hell, this fiendish engine came,’ he cried out when he had finished examining it, ‘so shall it return!’ He ordered the halberdiers to fetch straw and enough wood to surround and cover the TARDIS
completely. ‘Let it be burned at the stake,’ he shouted in religious ecstasy.
The officer in charge of the halberdiers approached and saluted him.
‘My Lord Abbot,’ he spoke deferentially, ‘his Majesty the King has expressed the desire to see what lies inside.’
‘Eternal damnation is within,’ the Abbot snapped back,
‘so do as I say: prepare this monstrosity for the stake. I shall deal with the King and return to light the cleansing fire that will rid the true faith of this satanic abomination.’
On that note the Abbot re-entered his carried and was driven away with Duval towards the Louvre.
As they approached
le Grand Pont
the carriage stopped.
‘What’s amiss?’ Duval called up to the driver.
‘Another carriage which comes in the opposite direction, sire,’ the driver answered.
The Abbot looked testily at Duval. ‘I am about God’s business, tell the other to yield the way.’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ Duval replied and descended from the carriage just as the driver called down that the other carriage had turned to cross over the river to Notre Dame and the way to the Louvre was now clear.
‘Who was it?’ the Abbot demanded as Duval clambered back into the carriage.
‘A prelate, by his robes, my Lord,’ Duval replied, ‘but I didn’t manage to see his face.’
Which was just as well, as the Doctor had recognised Duval getting out of the carriage and, watching surreptitiously, was relieved when the Abbot’s carriage continued on its way. His carriage drove past the auberge where Steven sat with his back to the square facing Anne who saw the carriage on the far side of the square.
‘Isn’t that your friend?’ she asked and pointed, ‘the one on his own in the carriage over there.’
Steven spun around and jumped to his feet. ‘Wait for me here,’ he said. As quickly as he could he forced his way through the jostling crowd and broke into a run towards Notre Dame. The carriage stood at the foot of the steps and Steven caught a fleeting glimpse of the Doctor entering the Cathedral. ‘Doctor!’ he yelled but it was too late. He took the steps two at a time and burst into the stillness of the nave. He looked about him, along the aisles, everywhere he could think of but there was no sign of him–the Doctor or the Abbot, whichever one he was.
Steven retraced his steps back to the auberge but Anne was no longer there. He asked a man who had been sitting next to them where she was.
‘She left just after you dashed off,’ the man replied.
‘Did she say where she was going or when she’d be back?’ Steven’s voice was urgent.
‘Not a word, just upped and went,’ the man said.
Steven looked desperately up and down the busy streets but he knew it was hopeless. Also he half-knew Anne believed he had found the Doctor and had gone back to the Cardinal’s palace to try and secure the release of her brother and her aunt.
‘A pretty little wench, she was,’ the man added with a sly wink and Steven turned away.
Both Lerans and Muss hung onto every word the Doctor recounted about his audience with the Queen Mother and when he had finished they looked at one another.
‘But who is Bondot and how will he bring about the Admiral’s downfall?’ Muss asked.
Lerans shrugged: ‘Nicholas, I have no idea. On neither side does such a name exist, at least not to my knowledge.’
‘Then do we assume that it’s a codename for someone highly-placed who could topple de Coligny?’ Muss replied.
‘Highly-placed? We know their proper names, so why the masquerade?’ Lerans put the fingertips of one hand to his forehead. ‘Unless Bondot is one of two people whose names could never be associated with the Admiral’s defeat.’
‘The King or the Queen Mother,’ Muss volunteered.
‘Precisely,’ Lerans turned to the Doctor. ‘We need to know.’
‘Gentlemen, I have run all the risks that I’m prepared to in this venture,’ the Doctor spoke sternly. ‘Twice now I have almost come face to face with the real Abbot of Amboise. The third time could be an actual confrontation.
No, I agreed to see the Queen Mother and then be on my way and I am holding you to those terms so, please, deliver Steven to me.’
There was a long pause during which Lerans and Muss exchanged an uncomfortable glance.
‘I’m afraid we can’t because we don’t know where he is,’
Lerans said finally.
‘He escaped from the Admiral’s house and took the serving girl with him,’ Muss added, ‘but they are being actively sought’ – he hesitated fractionally – ‘by Catholic and Huguenot alike.’
‘Try looking on a rubbish dump,’ the Doctor snapped back. Both Lerans and Muss’s eyes widened in astonishment.
‘Why there in particular?’ Muss asked.
‘Why not?’ the Doctor replied.
‘A mysterious object was discovered on one and it has been transported to the Bastille,’ Lerans explained.
‘And just before we came here, we heard that the Abbot of Amboise was on his way to see the King for it to be burnt at the stake,’ Lerans added.
‘What children you all are!’ the Doctor exclaimed and then exploded into uncontrollable laughter.
12
Intimidated by the Abbot’s fire and brimstone eloquence and, despite his curiosity about the ‘satanic abode’ (as the Abbot described it) which sat in the courtyard of the Bastille, the King gave his consent to burn it at the stake, although he insisted that he should be present when it was destroyed. The Abbot agreed but added that it could not be burnt immediately.
‘Why not?’ The King was peeved.
‘I must gird the armour of the Lord around His feeble vassal before I confront Lucifer and his demons in their infernal lair,’ the Abbot rhetorised.
‘Quite so, Lord Abbot,’ the King replied, unable to think of anything else.
‘I shall attend upon your Majesty one hour before the tocsin sounds,’ the Abbot proclaimed, then bowed and swept out of the room with Duval trotting at his heels.
Anne gave herself up to one of the sentries at the entrance to the Cardinal’s palace and was taken to Colbert who had her thrown into the cell with her brother and her aunt.
Then he hurried to Duval’s office to report that the wench was back. But to his surprise Duval showed little interest saying that for the time being she was unimportant as matters of far greater moment were afoot.
For his part Steven stood on the riverbank, throwing pebbles into the Seine whilst trying to resolve the dilemma of contacting the Doctor. It was obvious that he was masquerading as the Abbot of Amboise and the excuses put forward by Lerans and Muss to explain away his disappearance were patently lies. So Steven decided to go back to de Coligny’s house and have it out with them. But re-entering was almost as difficult as escaping had been.
He was refused admittance by the guards because he had no appointment, no written authorisation and his appearance wearing Preslin’s ill-fitting clothes was unprepossessing. But after a heated discussion which almost came to blows he persuaded one of them to fetch the officer in charge.
‘Take me at once to Viscount Lerans or Nicholas Muss,’
he demanded vociferously of the officer who looked him up and down with cold eyes.
‘State your business,’ the officer snapped.
‘That’s between myself and them,’ Steven retorted.
‘Then on your way with you, knave,’ the officer replied and turned to leave.
‘All right, tell them Steven Taylor wants to discuss the other Abbot of Amboise.’
The officer looked back at him. ‘What do you mean by
"the other"?’
Steven prodded a forefinger towards the officer’s gilded doublet. ‘Just tell them what I’ve said.’ His voice was low and dangerous.
The officer hesitated for a moment then told him to wait and went leisurely into the building. His return a few minutes later was more hurried and his manner respectful.
‘Come with me, please,’ he requested, ‘and I’ll take you directly to them.’
Lerans was leaning against the wall beside the window overlooking the courtyard and Muss was seated at his desk as Steven was ushered into the office. Muss waved the officer away; he shut the door behind him. Steven looked from one to the other.
‘Well, where is he?’ he demanded. ‘And don’t bother to say with Preslin.’
‘But, Steven, I give you my word, he is,’ Lerans protested mildly.
‘Not when he’s pretending to be the Abbot!’ Steven threw back. There was an awkward pause during which Muss and Lerans exchanged a glance. ‘So where is he?’ he repeated.
‘Safely underground in Paris,’ Muss said.
‘Take me to him.’
‘No, not yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘There is a Catholic conspiracy against Admiral de Coligny but we don’t know what it is and your friend in his role as the Abbot is helping us to uncover it,’ Muss explained.
‘I don’t see that’s any reason to keep us apart,’ Steven replied.
‘Please, Steven, his job is almost done,’ Muss said, ‘let him finish it.’ Steven hesitated and Lerans stepped in.
‘Where’s the girl?’ he asked and Steven recounted his adventures with Anne and the conclusion he had drawn.
‘There’s only one person who’ll succeed in rescuing them and that’s the same one who got you out of there,’
Lerans said; ‘your friend, the Doctor, as the Abbot.’
There was a knock at the door. ‘Enter,’ Muss called out and an officer of the Court was announced.
‘His Majesty the King requires the presence within the hour of your masters and yourselves to accompany his Majesty to the Bastille to witness the destruction on the stake of a fiendish machine,’ he proclaimed. Both Muss and Lerans inclined their heads in acceptance and the officer withdrew.
But Steven was flabbergasted. ‘Destruction!’ he yelled,
‘but it belongs to the Doctor.’
‘We know, and we’ve told the Doctor it’s to be burnt at the stake,’ Lerans replied calmly; ‘but he, for some strange reason which he chose not to reveal, found it hysterically funny.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Steven said.
‘Not in those clothes, my friend,’ Lerans chuckled.
‘They’re hardly fitting for the King’s presence. But we’ll deck you out as a courtier and no one will recognise you.’
In that they were wrong for, as the royal entourage stood in the Bastille courtyard awaiting the King’s arrival, Duval sidled over to him when Lerans and Moss were talking to Henri of Navarre and the Admiral.
‘Congratulations, the wench is under lock and key,’ he murmured with a faint wink, ‘and Maurevert’s here so it’s planned for tomorrow.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Steven muttered, understanding only that Anne was a prisoner again as Duval moved away and the heraldic trumpeters announced the arrival of the royal coach with the King and the Abbot at his side. The King beckoned de Coligny over to the open carriage.
‘We chose not to invite their royal Highnesses, our dear wife and our beloved mother, for fear they should be distressed,’ he snickered. ‘Wise of us, eh, Admiral?’
‘Most thoughtful of you, my Leige,’ de Coligny replied.
The King turned to the Abbot. ‘Proceed to God’s work, my Lord Abbot,’ he said and looked back at de Coligny.
‘Do sit beside us, Admiral.’ He patted the seat beside him as the Abbot descended from the carriage.
The Abbot’s habit was woven in gold and silver threads and the top of the wooden crook he held was studded with diamonds and other precious stones. Behind the carriage had been a procession of clerics and acolytes with thuribles of smoking incense. Now they came forward chanting and encircled the stake in the middle of which the TARDIS
was completely hidden by the wood and the bales of straw.