He passed his hand over his eyes.
'I'll be calm to pleasure thee,' he muttered apologetically. 'You said I was very pleasant, Kat.' He puffed out his chest and strutted to the middle of the room. 'Behold a made man. I could tell you such secrets. I am sent to slay a traitor at Rome, at Ravenna, at Ratisbon—wherever I find him. But he's in Paris, I'll tell thee that.'
Katharine's knees trembled; she sank down into her tall chair.
'Whom shalt thou slay?'
'Aye, and that's a secret. It's all secrets. I have sworn upon the hilt of my knife. But I am bidden to go by an old-young man, a make of no man at all, with lips that minced and mowed. It was he bade the guards pass me to thee this night.'
'I would know whom thou shalt slay,' she asked harshly.
'Nay, I tell no secrets. My soul would burn. But I am sent to slay this traitor—a great enemy to the King's Highness, from the Bishop of Rome. Thus I shall slay him as he comes from a Mass.'
He squatted about the room, stabbing at shadows.
'It is a man with a red hat,' he grunted. 'Filthy for an Englishman to wear a red hat these days!'
'Put up your knife,' Katharine cried, 'I have seen too much of it.'