‘I am certain he will find much to interest him in our debate.’
Piet waved his hand. ‘Please.’
‘Before you arrived, Michel was saying he believes the rights of worship granted to Huguenots in the Edict of Toleration were made in good faith, whereas my noble cousin here does not.’
‘The Edict is not worth the paper it’s written on,’ Devereux interrupted.
‘It has saved lives,’ Michel said quietly.
Crompton laughed. ‘Michel here believes the Queen Regent wishes for the discord between Catholics and Protestants to end. I do not.’
‘I do not deny there are others who see things differently. All I say is that we should not be the ones to precipitate further conflict. We will be judged the harsher if it appears as if we refused to accept the olive branch offered.’
‘This Edict,’ Crompton countered, ‘like all those that have been issued before, is a thing of smoke and mirrors. It is intended to give the illusion of compromise between the demands of the Catholics – by which I mean the Duke of Guise and his allies – and the moderate Catholics within the court. The Guise faction has no intention of honouring it, none whatsoever.’
‘You cannot know that,’ Michel said, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. ‘Guise is sequestered in his estates in Joinville. His influence is waning.’
‘If you believe that, you’re a fool!’ Devereux said.
‘Philippe, remember your manners,’ Crompton warned.
‘Papist dogs!’ growled Bonnet, slopping ale onto the table.
‘Guise and his brother have not been at court for some eighteen months,’ Michel continued, struggling to breathe evenly. ‘It is dangerous to portray every Catholic in the same light. It is what Guise says of us, cannot you see? He claims all Protestants are traitors to France, rebels intent on bringing down the state. He knows it to be untrue, but repeats it endlessly nevertheless.’
Piet had been party to many such conversations and the question was always the same: after years of persecution under Henri II, why should they believe his mother, Catherine, the Queen Regent, now intended to treat them fairly?
‘Come,’ Devereux drawled. ‘You well know that if a lie is repeated often enough, in the face of the clearest evidence to the contrary, even the most level-headed of men start to believe in it. Falsehood easily becomes accepted truth.’
Michel shook his head. ‘Things are not black and white. There are, on their side, as many moderate Catholics, who wish to reach a compromise, as there are those on our side who work for peace and justice.’
Crompton leant forward. ‘Are these the same “moderate Catholics” who stood by and watched the violent suppression of our brethren after the Conspiracy of Amboise?’
‘That was an amateurish and ill-advised plot, which turned many against us,’ Michel replied.
Piet put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Michel is right. The Conspiracy hardened attitudes against us. Don’t forget that the Duke of Guise is, to many, the saviour of France. It was he who sent the English packing and returned Calais to French hands.’ He turned to Crompton. ‘Forgive me if I offend you by speaking plainly.’
Crompton shook his head. ‘I take no offence. My sword is for France. My mother had no choice in the matter of my conception and so, though I thank my father for the gift of life and his English name, I curse him in every other respect.’ He held Piet’s eye. ‘The same for you? Mixed blood. You are Dutch perhaps?’
Piet smiled, but had no intention of speaking of his private circumstances in a chamber of strangers. ‘For many of us, our loyalties are complicated. We each must choose our allegiance according to our own conscience.’
‘Whether she o’er steps her responsibilities or not,’ Michel said softly, ‘the Queen Regent has decided that compromise is the way forward. For the greater good of France. I do not advocate doing nothing. I merely say we should not act rashly.’
‘If we allow them to strike first, we lose the advantage,’ Crompton pressed. ‘As a soldier, you of all people should understand that.’
‘But we have no advantage!’ Michel cried. ‘They have the full might of the state on their side. We do not want war.’
‘We do not, but I fear that is exactly what Guise wants. Civil war. He will not be content until he has driven every Huguenot from France. It is said our Prince of Condé has issued a letter requesting arms and a levy to secure Toulouse. If that is so, should Carcassonne not follow where Toulouse leads?’ He paused. ‘Is that correct, Reydon?’
Piet had no more intention of revealing any information about the situation in Toulouse than gossiping about himself. He was here to do business, nothing more.
‘A rumour, that is all.’
Alphonse Bonnet slapped his hand on the table. ‘Papist vermin! Kennel rats.’
Crompton ignored him. ‘Speak, Reydon,’ he said, and Piet felt the atmosphere in the chamber sharpen. ‘You are amongst comrades.’
He cursed the position he found himself in. The bonds of friendship made him wish to ally himself with Michel, whom he knew to be a man of honour and courage. Had any of the others in this chamber ever seen action on the battlefield? Yet at the same time, he knew how often good men – and Michel was a good man – imputed noble motives to others while failing to see the treachery around them.
He smiled. ‘It is not modesty that prevents me from expressing my views, Crompton, so much as the fact that I have witnessed how harm can be done by those who proffer an opinion when they are only in partial possession of the facts. A man might do better to hold his tongue than scatter words without a care as to where they might land.’
Devereux laughed.
‘But you must be aware of the murder of Jean Roset,’ Crompton said, ‘an innocent man shot at worship by a member of the Toulouse town guard supposedly set to protect Huguenots? And the attack on Protestants in Place Saint-Georges a week ago?’
Piet held his gaze. ‘I am well aware of the situation in Toulouse. I was there and I can tell you Roset’s death, though a tragedy, was an accident. Regardless, the soldier in question was arrested.’
‘But it is not only Toulouse,’ Devereux pressed. ‘A devout Huguenot, a midwife as I heard it, was found murdered in her bed in the village of Puivert. Punished only for the crime of her faith.’
‘In Puivert . . .’ Michel muttered. He tried to stand, but his legs shook fiercely. Piet tried to help, but was waved away. ‘It will pass, it will pass.’
‘What do you say to that, Reydon?’ Crompton asked.
‘I know nothing of Puivert,’ he said, wondering why Michel was suddenly so distressed. ‘What I do know is that the situation of our Protestant sisters and brothers varies from region to region, hence my reluctance to offer advice. What holds true for Toulouse might not be so for Carcassonne.’
‘Then you agree,’ Devereux said, ‘that we should sit on our hands and do nothing?’
Piet wondered at his confidence, which belied both his age and his dissolute appearance.
‘If you are asking whether I agree that there is danger in us being perceived as the aggressor,’ he replied carefully, ‘then yes, I do. It will only justify prejudice against us and give licence for greater persecution. And there are Catholics at Court, who supported the amnesty for Huguenot prisoners in January which resulted in many of our comrades being released from gaol.’