The cardinal had not come alone. Without his cape or anything else that might reveal his identity or his function, Captain Saint-Georges, the commanding officer of the Cardinal's Guards, was standing to the right of his master and slightly behind him, wearing his sword at the side and a look on his face that expressed a mixture of hatred and scorn. One of Richelieu's innu-
merable secretaries was also present. He sat on a stool with a writing tablet on his lap, ready to transcribe the details of this interview.
"So," said the cardinal, "you've been spying on me. . . ."
The secretary's goose quill began to scratch across the paper.
"Yes," replied Laincourt.
"That's not good. For a long time?"
"Long enough."
"Since your overextended mission in Spain, I should think."
"Yes, monseigneur."
Saint-Georges quivered.
"Traitor," he hissed between his teeth.
Richelieu immediately lifted a hand to command silence and, seeing that he was obeyed, addressed the prisoner again.
"I would say, by way of reproach, that I have honoured you with my trust but, of course, that is a prerequisite in the exercise of your profession. After all, what good is a spy if one is wary of him . . . ? However, it does seem to me that you have been well treated. So why?"
"There are some causes that transcend those who serve them, monseigneur."
"So it was for an ideal, then. . . . Yes, I can understand that. . . . Nevertheless, were you well paid?"
"Yes."
"By whom?" Spain.
"But more than that?"
"The Black Claw."
"Monseigneur!" Saint-Georges intervened, seerhing with anger. "This traitor doesn't deserve your attention . . . ! Let us hand him over to the torturers. They'll know how to make him tell us everything he knows."
"Now, now, captain. . . . It's true that, sooner or later, their victims will tell an expert torturer everything. But they will also say anything. . . . And besides, you can see for yourself that monsieur de Laincourt is not at all indisposed to answering our questions."
"Then let him be judged, and be hanged!"
"As for that, we shall see."
Richelieu returned his attention to Laincourt, who, throughout this exchange, had remained unperturbed.
"You do not appear to be afraid of the fate that awaits you, monsieur. Yet I assure you that it is an unenviable one. . . . Are you are a fanatic?"
"No, monseigneur." '
"Then enlighten me. How is it thai you remain so calm?"
"Your Eminence knows the reason, or already guessed it."
The cardinal smiled, while Saint-Georges could no longer contain himself, taking a step forward, hand on his sword.
"Enough of this insolence! Answer!"
Richelieu was once again forced to dampen his captain's ardour.
"I wager, monsieur de Laincourt, that you have a document that protects you hidden away somewhere safe."
"Indeed."
"It's a letter, isn't it? Either a letter or a list."
"Yes."
"There is always too much being written down. . . . What would you require in exchange for it?"
"Life. Freedom."
"That is a lot to ask."
"Furthermore, there will not be an exchange."
Saint-Georges was dumbstruck, while the cardinal frowned and, elbows on the table, gathered his fingers to form a steeple in front of his thin lips.
"You won't exchange," he resumed. "Will you sell?"
"No, I won't sell either."
"Then I don't understand."
"The letter in question will cease to protect me once it is in your hands, and one does not remove one's armour when faced by the enemy."
"The enemy can promise to make peace. ..."
"The enemy can promise all it likes."
This time Richelieu lifted his hand even before his captain reacted. The secretary, on his stool, seemed hesitant to take down this retort. A log shifted in the hearth, and the fire gained new strength.
"I want this letter," the cardinal declared after a moment. "Given that you are not prepared to divest yourself of it, I could turn you over to the torturer. He will make you reveal where you have hidden it."
"I have placed it in the care of a reliable person. A person whose rank and birth protects them. Even from you."
"Such people are rare. Throughout the entire kingdom, they can be counted on the fingers of one hand."
"A hand wearing a steel glove."
"English steel?"
"Perhaps."
"A clever move."
Laincourt bowed slightly.
"I attended a good school, monseigneur."
Richelieu dismissed the compliment with a vague gesture, as one might wave away an annoying insect.
"This person of whom we speak, do they know the nature of the paper you have entrusted to them?"
"Certainly not."
"So what do you propose?"
"Monseigneur, you are misleading when you say you desire to find this letter."
"Really?"
"Because instead you wish to destroy it, don't you? What you desire, above all, is that this letter should remain unread by anyone, ever."
The cardinal sat back in his armchair and signalled to the secretary to stop writing.