This same day, before dawn, Joffroy, a former sailor, met his old friend Sébastien at the Porte au Blé on the right bank of the river Seine, as arranged. Both religious men who regularly attended the Eucharist of their Protestant church, and both unmarried, with no dependant families, they had taken a remarkable decision, to flee Paris. Shaking hands, they took the path that skirted the river flowing downstream. The men were travelling light, wearing a heavy waterproof cape over their tunic and each carrying a small sack, a drawstring fastening its top to keep their few valuables secure. Joffroy spoke,
“It amazes me not more folk like us are leaving the city. Our priest has been telling us, from the pulpit and in private, that we’re in danger from the Catholic powers. I know he’s right. I
