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glass to the brim, went back to his own chair and nodded at his wife.
    'Master Shallot,' he began, 'we have our secrets and you have yours.' He waved a hand. 'I shall tell you why we left France.'
    He stared down at the white damask tablecloth; I sipped my wine and studied the faces of the others. If anything, their fear had increased.
'What's the matter?' I asked testily.
    'I am the matter,' Ralemberg answered. 'I was born in Brittany. That was an independent province until Duke Francis died, leaving his daughter Anne as his only heir. She was seized, married off to Charles VIII of France, and Brittany was absorbed into a greater France.' Ralemberg smiled wanly. 'Now Brittany had been given assurances by the present King of England's father that the Tudors would fight to protect Brittany's independence.' He shrugged. 'It just goes to show, princes are liars.'
    (Well, that came as no surprise to me. Old Henry VII, father to the Great Killer, was a born miser and inveterate liar who wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and bit him on the nose. Oh, by the way, Charles VIII of France was no better. He was a pygmy, an ugly little bastard, forever jumping on the ladies of the court as if he was a dog on heat. He fancied himself as a new Alexander and said he wanted to learn more about the Renaissance in the neighbouring country, so he invaded Italy. Charles sacked city after city. He also found syphilis, the first time that disease appeared in Europe. His soldiers caught it outside Naples and, when their balls began to drop off, he retreated. You must have heard how Charles died? Supposedly, he wandered into a darkened room and banged his head on a cupboard. I know different. He was murdered. I have met the assassin who was on top of the cupboard!)
    'Brittany became part of France,' Ralemberg continued. 'I didn't care either way. I went to university at the Sorbonne in Paris, entered the royal service, and joined the French crown's legion of secret agents called the Luciferi, the Light-Bearers. These men move in the shadows. They do not act in the full light of day but deal in subtle trickery, clever fetches, secret assassinations, and every filthy trick of the devil. I became a high-ranking officer under the chief archangel, Vauban.'
    He chewed his lip. 'The archangel is the title given to the leader of the Luciferi. He is appointed personally by the French king. I admit I was party to their tricks for a while but in Brittany the Luciferi began to remove, through assassination or spurious trials, any who opposed the French crown. One of these was my own brother who led the resistance in the countryside around Nantes.' He looked down at his splayed fingers. 'I suppose,' he murmured, 'that brought me to my senses. I began to see the Luciferi as evil. I fled from them and joined the rebels in Brittany.' He looked at the sea captain. 'De Macon was also one of us. When the resistance broke, I fled with what possessions I had.'
    Ralemberg looked sharply at me. 'What's the matter, Roger? I thought you'd say this is England, the Luciferi have no power here?'
    'I have met the Luciferi,' I replied, and heard Madame Ralemberg moan as I briefly described my assailants in the alleyway and the appearance of my mysterious protectors.
'Why didn't you tell us?' Ralemberg snapped.
    'I thought they were another company, personal enemies. Threats,' I continued bravely, 'do not deter me. But you are right, Monsieur, this is England and the Luciferi have no real power.'
    'The Luciferi are everywhere,' de Macon replied. 'Why do you think Monsieur Ralemberg needed your silver and gold? You were not the only one attracted by his business ventures. The Luciferi frightened the rest off.'
'Strange,' I mused.
'What is?'
    'Well, Monsieur, before I met you in St Paul's, I found one of your handbills in my chamber at the Golden Turk. Would the Luciferi have put it there?'
    'Yes, that is strange,' Ralemberg murmured. 'And you say that some others protected