Threads of Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin Read Free Book Online Page A

man with wavy brown hair, winsome dark eyes, and an increasingly masculine appearance. He’d also become a scholar in training with knowledge of how politics and religion worked together, ofttimes in unholy union.
    She went to her desk, lit the lamp, and wrote to Fabien of the danger confronting him and Rachelle, giving him a brief account of the troubling events at court since his voyage, knowing he would receive a fuller report through Andelot.
    Perhaps ten minutes passed. She was ready to sign her name, but paused. She drummed her fingers on the desk. She must decide whether to give her consent to the marriage in the absence of Monsieur Arnaut. She hesitated, stood from the chair, and leaving the lettre on the desk, rang the bell for her chief page, Romier.
    The young page, an ami of Andelot and about the same age, came at once.
    “You called, Madame?”
    “Find Andelot. Do not let anyone know you are seeking him or why. I need to speak alone with him. Tell him it is about Marquis Fabien and his oncle Comte Sebastien Dangeau. You have heard about Comte Sebastien and his family?”
    “Oui, Madame. Everyone at court has been wondering how it was possible. He must have been most clever, they say.”
    “Desperate, perhaps. Go at once, Romier, and be exceedingly cautious.”
    “None shall see me, Madame.”
    The duchesse nodded her approval and watched him withdraw.

    A CRITICAL TASK NOW compelled him. Andelot went to the window and peered below. The courtyard was bleak and mostly dark with only a few torches weaving in the chilly gusts. He turned away, lifting his olive green velvet beret from the footstool and arranging it to one side of his brown hair in customary style.
    He opened the door of his bedchamber a crack to look into the large adjoining study-chamber. Scholar Thauvet always took his evening dinner at this time with friendly colleagues, and the chamber stood empty as Andelot expected. More than one lamp burned, and the manuscripts Thauvet was using were not yet stored away for the night, indicating he intended to return and work a few hours longer. Thauvet was in the long and tedious process of transcribing an ancient manuscript that would go to the library of Notre Dame when completed, and Andelot was assisting.
    He turned back to his own chamber, shut the door softly, and lifted the mattress to remove the French Bible. He must be wary. He could not prove that he was under Père Jaymin’s surveillance, but on more than one occasion he’d come within a breadth of getting caught with the forbidden Bible in his possession. Several times Andelot had noticed Jaymin’s inquisitive eyes probing about the chamber.
    He wrapped the treasured Bible in his cloak and carried it into the study-chamber where he removed several narrower volumes from a bookshelf at the far end. Placing the Bible at the back of the shelf, he replaced the books in front of it. They protruded slightly from the shelf edge but not enough to be noticeable. This concealment would do for now —
    “I have caught you at last!”
    He turned sharply at the footstep behind him.
    A young monsieur stood there with jaw-length hair the color of amber, smoothly waved and turned under at the ends. His nose came to a peak and his chin was angular. He wore green satin with silver fripperies, but he’d had the wits to pocket his tinkling silver bells before sneaking up on him.
    Andelot formed fists to keep from grasping Romier by the collar of his silver and green satin uniform and shaking him.
    “ Saintes! I should thump you until you rattle!”
    “Still your tongue. Will you that someone hear us?” He looked toward the door to the outer corridor.
    “At the moment? I do not care!”
    “Tut, tut.”
    Though at first glance Romier appeared foppish, the duchesse kept him as her chief page because he was a swordsman, a marksman with a dagger, and he took pride in serving her.
    “Madame wishes to speak to you in her chambers.” Romier looked over to the