On leaving the Auberge Tournon, Bertrand and Monaud were greeted by an icy wind that blew through the narrow streets – a wintry blast off the sea for which La Rochelle was renowned. They held their capes tight and lowered their heads to avoid taking its chilling force in their faces. Saint Sauveur church, their first destination that day was, fortunately, nearby and the calm and relatively warm interior was welcome. They dipped their fingers in the holy water of the stoup, crossed themselves, and sat on a pew halfway down the nave, resting in silence for a few moments until a voice broke the peace.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Father Servet appeared from a side aisle and sat beside them.
“And to you,” Bertrand replied, relieved that one of the two priests was present at that hour. He wante
