Nicholas Muss, the Admiral’s faithful servant, was dozing in a chair. Merlin, his pastor, sat in another. He had many faithful servants in his house; he had many friends in Paris. The Prince of Condé and the King of Navarre had visited him earlier in the evening, but they had now left for the palace of the Louvre. Ambroise Paré, who had made such great efforts to save his life, had been with him until a few hours ago; he had been reluctant to leave him and would not have done so but for an urgent command from the King himself.

What disquiet there was all through Paris! If only the King would throw off the influence of his mother and his brother Anjou, together with that of the Guises, what good could be achieved! The Admiral knew that they hated him; he knew that when the Queen Mother had uttered her condolences and spoken of her sympathy, she was furiously angry because the shot from the gun of the Guise hireling had failed to kill him outright. He knew that when the King had ordered a guard to protect this house, Anjou and his mother had seen to it that the men who arrived had been led by a certain man named Cosseins, and this man was an old enemy of the Admiral and the Huguenot cause. This was ominous and he knew that danger was all about him and his friends.

How quiet it was tonight! There had been so many nights of feasting and roystering during the celebrations of the wedding that on this night the silence seemed all the more impressive.

He wondered fitfully if he would ever see Châtillon again. Had news reached Jacqueline of his accident? He trusted not. She would be beside herself with anxiety, and that would be so bad for her and the child. He was glad that François and Andelot were safe at Châtillon, and Louise with them. Perhaps, if he recovered, as Paré assured him that he would, he would be in Châtillon in a few weeks’ time . . . perhaps by the end of September. The roses would not be all gone. What joy to wander in the alleys once more, to gaze at the grey walls of the castle and not care whether he went in or stayed out, since there could be no dispatches waiting for him!

Who knew, perhaps he would be home by the end of September, for it was now nearing the end of August. Today was the . . . yes, the 23rd. St Bartholomew’s Eve.

He started suddenly; the sound of bells crashed on the air.

Whence did it come? Who was ringing the bells at this hour? Muss started up from his chair; Merlin opened his eyes.

‘Is it morning then?’ asked Merlin. ‘What mean these bells?’

‘I wonder,’ said the Admiral. ‘Bells before daybreak! What can it mean?’

‘And they startled you from your sleep master,’ said Muss.

‘Nay, I was not sleeping. I was lying here thinking oh, thinking most happily, of my wife and family and my roses at

Téligny had come into the room.

‘You heard the bells, my son?’ asked the Admiral.

‘They awakened me, Father. What is the reason for them? Listen. Do you hear? The sound of horses’ hoofs . . . coming this way.’

The men looked at each other, but none spoke his thoughts. A great terror possessed them all except the Admiral. For hours now he had lain in pain, expectant, waiting for death; and if this were death it would merely mean that the end of his pain was at hand.

‘Muss,’ he said, ‘go to the window, my friend. Tell us what you see below.’

The man went and, when he drew back the hangings, the room was filled with the wavering light from the torches and cressets below.

‘Who is there, Nicholas?’ asked the Admiral.

Téligny was at the window. He turned his pale face towards the Admiral and stammered: ‘Guise . . . and ten . . . twenty more mayhap.’

Gaspard said: ‘They have come for me, my friends. You must help me to dress. I would not care to receive my enemies thus.’

Téligny ran from the room and hurried down the staircase.

‘Be on guard!’ he shouted to the men who were posted on stairs and in corridors. ‘Our enemies are here.’

As he reached the main door, he heard Cosseins shout: ‘Labonne, have you the keys? You must let this man through. He has a message from the King to the Admiral.’

‘Labonne!’ shouted Téligny. ‘Let no one in!’

But it was too late. The keys were already in Cosseins’ hands. He heard Labonne’s shriek; and he knew that that faithful friend had been murdered.

‘Fight!’ cried Téligny to the men. ‘Fight for Coligny and the cause!’

He ran back to the bedchamber, where Merlin knelt in prayer while Muss was helping the Admiral to put on a few clothes. The sound of shots and shouts could now be distinctly heard in the room.

Suddenly a Huguenot soldier burst in upon them. ‘Monsieur l’Amiral,’ he cried, ‘you must fly. You must waste no time. The Guisards are here. They are breaking down the inner door.’

‘My friends,’ said the Admiral calmly, ‘you must go . . . all of you. For myself I am ready for death. I have long expected it.’

‘I will never leave you, Father,’ said Téligny.

‘My son, your life is too precious to be recklessly thrown away. Go . . . go at once. Remember Louise. Remember Châtillon, and that it is for such as you to live and fight on. Do not be over-troubled because I must die. I am an old man and my day is done.’

‘I will fight beside you,’ said Téligny. ‘We may yet escape.’

‘I cannot walk, my son. You cannot carry me. It is folly to delay. I hear them on the staircase. That means they are coming over the dead bodies of our faithful friends. Go, my son. Jacqueline will know much sorrow, for this night she will be a widow. If you love my daughter do not subject her to the same fate. You grieve me. I am most unhappy while you stay. Give me the joy of knowing that you have escaped these murderers. Son, I beg of you. There is yet time. The roofs . . . through theabat-son. Now . . . for the love of God, for the love of Louise . . . for Châtillon . . . I beg of you . . . go!’

Téligny kissed his father-in-law and sobbed: ‘I will, Father. I will . . . since it is your wish. For Louise . . .’

‘I beg of you, make haste. To the attics . . . to the roofs . . .’

‘Goodbye, my father.’

‘Goodby, my dearest son.’

Gaspard wiped the sweat from his brow, but he was smiling as he saw the last of his son-in-law. He turned to Merlin. ‘You too, my dearest friend, go .

‘Dear master, I have no wife to make a widow. My place is here with you. I will not leave you.’

‘Nor I, master,’ said Muss. ‘I have my sword and my arm is strong.’

‘It is certain death,’ said the Admiral wearily. ‘We are so few, they so many.’

‘But I would not wish for life, master,’ said Muss, ‘if I left you now.’

‘Dear friends, I would not have those who hold you dear, reproach me with your deaths. You would please me if you went. Merlin, you can do much good elsewhere. Go . . . Follow my son-in-law to the roofs. Listen. They are on the staircase now. Merlin . . . I entreat you. I have learned to pray. I can pray without you. You waste a life . . . a Huguenot life. I beg of you. I command you . . .’

The pastor was persuaded that he could do no good by remaining, but old Nicholas Muss was resolutely standing by the bed, his sword in hand, and Coligny knew that nothing he could say to his servant would make him leave his side.

Then Coligny knelt by the bed. He began to pray. ‘Into Your hands, oh God, I commend my soul. Comfort my wife. Guide my children, for they are of such tender age . . . Into your hands . . . into your hands . . .’

The door was burst open. Cosseins and a man whom the Admiral recognized as an enemy and whose name was Besme, rushed into the room. Behind them came others, among whom were the Italians, Toshingi and Petrucci. They all wore white scarfs about their arms and crosses in their’ hats.

They fell back at the sight of the old man kneeling by the bed. Hastily they crossed themselves. The serenity of the Admiral’s face and the calm manner in which he lifted those noble eyes to their faces temporarily unnerved them.

‘You are Gaspard de Coligny?’ said Toshingi.

‘I am. And you have come to kill me, I see. Do what you will. My life is almost over and there is little you can do.’

Nicholas Muss lifted his sword in defence of his master, but the blow was parried by Toshingi, while Petrucci thrust his dagger into the old man’s chest. The others crowded round to finish what Toshingi had begun, and Muss fell groaning beside the bed.

‘So perish all heretics!’ cried one of the men.

This was the signal; together they rushed on the prostrate Admiral. Besme thrust his sword through the body of the noble old man, while all in turn stabbed him with their daggers, each eager to anoint his blade with the most distinguished of the blood that they had promised themselves they would shed that night.

Coligny lay stretched out before them, and they stood silently looking down at him, none willing that his companions should see that look of shame which he feared he might be weak enough to show.

Besme went to the window and opened it.

‘Is the deed done?’ called Henry of Guise.

‘Yes, my lord Duke,’ answered Besme.

The Chevalier of Angouleme, bastard of Henry the Second and half-brother to the King, who was below with Guise, shouted: ‘Then fling him out of the window that we may see that you speak truth.’

The assassins lifted the body of the Admiral.

‘He still lives,’ said Petrucci.

‘He will not live for long after he has made contact with the courtyard below,’ answered Toshingi. ‘Ah, my good friend, my noble Admiral, if you had not stooped to pick up a paper when I took a shot at you, what a lot of trouble you might have saved yourself . . . and us! Hoist him, my friends. What a weight he is! Steady . . . Over!’