Read Online Tannhauser 02: The Twelve Children of Paris by Tim Willocks - Free Book Online

gums were grey. Their eyeballs were shrunken from the rims of their sockets. Some lay on the cage floor, too lethargic to move. Grégoire stared at the creatures with a sigh of pity.
    ‘What are they?’
    ‘They’re called monkeys.’
    Grégoire made a fair attempt at pronouncing the word.
    ‘They live in trees. These are from the New World, across the ocean.’
    ‘They’re scared and hungry. And there’s no water in there.’
    ‘Well spotted. Lend me a hand.’
    Tannhauser threw the velvet cover aside. With a deafening exacerbation in the violence of the shrieks, he and Grégoire manhandled the cage from its obscure location and left it at the door. Arnauld reappeared and studied the monkeys with distaste.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘The poor creatures are dying of thirst. Here they can let their keepers know it.’
    They left the monkeys to raise the roof and Arnauld led them back down the corridor.
    ‘Why do you want to find Picart?’ asked Arnauld.
    ‘He can tell me where to find my wife.’
    ‘His nickname is “Petit Christian” because he was born with a deformity of the genitals. He has no testicles and his penis is barely visible, or so I am reliably told. In his younger days this made him sexually desirable to those of more outlandish tastes, whom this place draws as a manure bin flies. Christian submitted to these humiliations in the belief it would advance his ambitions as a playwright. If he had trace of talent as a writer, perhaps it would have.’
    ‘He’s a writer?’
    ‘He wrote a single play, crudely borrowed from Gringoire but lacking his wit, and outstanding only for its pretentiousness and vacuity. In some circles these qualities are highly valued but the bloom quickly faded from his buttocks and with it his career. He now pens spiteful pamphlets aimed at dramatists more gifted than he and erotic doggerel for a private clientele. He is most valued for the sexual freak shows that he stages to titillate his former abusers at the court. He can draw on a whole stable of grotesques, midgets, freaks and children, or so I am reliably told. In his official role, however, he is an administrator of court entertainments.’
    ‘Not a man of great importance, then.’
    ‘Who is of lesser importance than a failed playwright?’
    Tannhauser said, ‘I’ve never seen a play.’
    ‘After spending half an hour in your company I will never watch one again.’
    Arnauld investigated three further offices. Christian had been busy enough that morning but had not been seen at all that afternoon. No one knew where to find him.
    ‘I’ve done my best,’ said Arnauld. ‘I’ll order Dominic Le Tellier to send his guards to find the wretch. Then, with your permission, I’ll attend to my other obligations, which are many.’
    Tannhauser nodded.
    They returned to the vestibule and stopped. Two men stood in the shaft of light thrown from the gateway, engaged in urgent conversation. Tannhauser could only see the face of the taller, an officer dressed in an expensive buff jerkin and matching hose. His handsome features were set off by a figure-of-eight ruff. He glanced over the other’s head and his eyes stopped too suddenly on Tannhauser. Once again Tannhauser had the sensation of being recognised by someone he was certain he had never met.
    ‘At last, there’s Dominic Le Tellier,’ said Arnauld.
    Dominic nodded in their direction and the second man looked over his shoulder. It was the weasel in bottle-green velvet from the Grand Hall. Alarm flitted through his eyes. As in the market, he turned away.
    ‘And that’s Petit Christian,’ said Arnauld. ‘Do you want me to introduce you?’
    Tannhauser studied him. There was nothing in Arnauld’s eyes to suggest duplicity.
    ‘No. If all goes well, our paths won’t cross again. But I won’t forget your generosity.’
    ‘Then hear my counsel. Imagine a nest that is home to a family of vicious and overfed rats, all of whose members harbour secret hatreds