Authors: Dorothy Dunnett
He had thought, after two or three months, that she would feel secure enough to meet him, at least. He had not expected a public rebuff, and a bodyguard. What was Julius thinking of?
He saw her now, crossing the yard and standing, her hands tightly together, at the porter’s shoulder. Her hair was a duller brown than her mother’s, and she lacked her mother’s bright colour. Just now, she was white. The spectators around him, grown silent, moved and murmured in anticipation. He said, ‘Tilde? I have something to tell you. I have come from the chapel at Fleury.’
‘Is that all?’ she said. ‘I was there before you. If you have something to say, write it down.’
Someone clucked reprovingly, and someone gave a comic groan and a laugh. Without privacy, exchange was impossible. He said, ‘Is Meester Julius there?’
‘He is,’ said Tilde. ‘But he has been forbidden to speak to you. Father Godscalc will not come out either. This is the Charetty business, not yours.’
‘And do my clothes fit you?’ said Nicholas. ‘If not, I should like to have them back. And the other effects in my room, unless you have sold them.’
‘They will be sent to you,’ said the hard voice of Tilde. ‘If they have perished, you will have an accounting. There are some gifts you made to my mother.’
‘Keep them. The rest can go to the
Avignon
. I shall be there for three days. Thomas wishes to call on you.’
‘Why?’ said Tilde.
‘To serve you and Catherine. Captain Astorre wants you to have his protection.’
‘I have protection,’ Tilde said. ‘A new bodyguard. We have no need of Thomas. Send him back to Astorre.’
‘He is not under my orders,’ said Nicholas. ‘I dare say he will find work of some kind in Bruges. If you want him, no doubt you can find him. Is there anything else?’
‘Where are you going?’ said Tilde.
‘To the
Avignon
,’ Nicholas said. He paused, about to remount.
She said, ‘No. After that. Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nicholas said. ‘Into business of some sort. I don’t want to compete with you. But we ought to talk if we’re going to avoid it.’
She said, ‘You want to know all our plans.’
Nicholas said, ‘Tilde, I know more about your business than you do. But I’ll leave you alone if you want me to. I do want to collect
some things that belong to me. If you let me in, it won’t take me a moment.’
‘No,’ said Tilde. ‘Send your mistress.’
A stir of excitement. Nicholas set his teeth. ‘I would if I had one,’ he said.
‘Your future wife, then,’ said Tilde. ‘She’s here to petition the Duke, but the old man’s too sick to appreciate her. She’s been waiting for you for days. A lady from the duchy of Savoy. She calls herself Primaflora.’
When he got to the
Avignon
, Thomas was holding public court in the wet, straw-spattered yard. One or two of the listeners around him had strolled off before Nicholas reached them. Among the others were one or two he recognised as old cronies of Astorre and his friends, and one or two he recalled as well-qualified tattlers. As he came up, Thomas greeted him, his face red. ‘They said you wouldn’t get in. They said Spangnaerts Street’s locked, barred and guarded. The girl’s told Meester Julius and Father Godscalc she’ll dismiss them if they speak to you. And it’s the same in the yard. Henninc and Bellobras, Cristoffels and Lippin. None of them dare do anything, or she’ll call in strangers and ruin the business. She says she isn’t going to make the same mistake her –’
‘She’s off her head, the poor thing,’ said a woman. ‘What are you going to do, Meester Nicholas?’
Meester Nicholas. The under-manager of the Medici Bank had called him that too, just now. Had offered to lend him one or two men, indeed, to break his way into the building. Nicholas had replied, with restraint, that he had thought of starving them out. He had then added quickly that it seemed likely that the doors would be unbarred at some point, unless the company were to go out of business, but that he had no intention of forcing himself on his step-daughters. He repeated the gist of this now, and removed himself and Thomas politely into the inn. It was a good one, being sited behind the church of St Donatien, near the burgh square and within a discreet distance of Spangnaerts Street, which was why he had chosen it. There were therefore quite a lot of men of substance who heard Thomas say, as they ascended the stairs, ‘You’ll never guess who is here.’
‘I’ve just been told,’ Nicholas said. ‘An envoy of Carlotta of Cyprus. Popular opinion has already made her my mistress. Where is she?’
‘Out. But everyone knows she’s been asking for you. What’s she doing in Bruges?’ Thomas said. He opened a door on an empty room.
Nicholas followed him in and closed the door firmly. ‘At a guess, cajoling money for Cyprus out of Duke Philip,’ he said. ‘If the
Queen sent an accredited envoy, she would upset her dear relative France. Hence Primaflora with, I should think, an excellent clerk, a decent retinue and an inadequate chaperon.’
‘The Duke’s past it,’ said Thomas.
‘But I am not,’ Nicholas said. ‘And the Queen wants me as well.’
‘I see,’ Thomas said. He sat down, still in his boots. ‘That Primaflora, she’s just lost her husband.’
He had picked Thomas to travel with because of all the qualities he was now displaying. It was too late to regret it. Nicholas said, ‘Ansaldo wasn’t her husband. The lady Primaflora, Thomas, is a professional courtesan.’
Thomas made a visible effort. ‘You could afford one,’ he said.
‘No. I think,’ Nicholas said, ‘she would be too expensive.’
The message was slipped under his door late that night. He rose quietly, lit a taper and read it without waking Thomas. Then he pulled on pourpoint and hose and left, carrying his soft boots and cloak to put on in the passage.
There was no one awake in the common-room, and he unbarred the front door himself and stepped out into hoar frost and fog. It was as well that he knew every bridge, every well, every street, every house in this city. The night-lanterns were diminished by fog, flat as sequins. As he walked, he saw the Mother of God, eyes upturned, suspended over the city, the Child in her arms. Or perhaps it was an image three inches high, lamplit on some near, pious corner. His soles slid on the cobbles, and crunched on the rime in between them. Once he heard other footsteps, belonging no doubt to the watch. He thought, at one point, of crossing to the warm unseen fire of the cranemen, but thought better of it. They were good friends, who had helped him enough in his escapades. He crossed the bridge by the Spinola quay, and felt his way quietly through Spangnaerts Street.
The bodyguard were no longer there, although the lanterns had been lit at the gates and all the way along the spiked wall, and there was a rim of light round the porter’s lodge shutters. He walked round, and found the rope hanging over the wall between the spikes, and the mattress laid conveniently over them. He tested the rope, and then jumped, and gripped it, and hauled himself up, and then over.
Julius met him by the stables: a familiar whisper; a grip on his arm, and then a shadow sprinting before him to the kitchen door. Then he was in and pausing, breathing lightly, while his notary – his one-time teacher – climbed the stairs to see all was well. Then he, too, was upstairs and along a passage and through a door to a big, shuttered room where a lamp had been lit in one corner, showing desks, and papers, and shelves of ledgers, and all the paraphernalia of the business he had created for Marian. In the
room were the priest Godscalc, who had been their chaplain and firm friend in Trebizond; whose skill with numbers and letters was serving the Charetty company still. And Loppe, the Guinea slave he had made his quarter-master. And Julius, who closed the door behind him.
He walked first to Loppe, and embraced him; and then Godscalc. Two large men, nearly as tall as himself, and encouraging to have at your side in a battle. Julius, who had no taste for that sort of thing, slapped him on the shoulder and said, ‘Well. We had to see you. This is all your doing, you know.’ He had the sunburn of Trebizond still on his dark face. He looked active, vivid, successful. Factor, notary, manager now to the Charetty business, and making the best of it. Although, of them all, he had most longed for excitement, and might have made his life in the East, had their venture not come to an end.
‘Let him sit down,’ said Godscalc. ‘And keep your voices low. The law is on the side of the girls. And Tilde owns this building, and has forbidden Nicholas to enter.’ He turned, with the balanced weight of a fighting man, but his manner was priestly and calm, as it always was. ‘You must believe we tried to prevent this. And, of course, it will pass.’
‘Will it?’ said Julius. ‘Nicholas threw them a challenge, and they picked it up. They want to prove they can beat you. What are you going to do?’
‘What are you going to do is more to the point,’ Nicholas said. He saw Loppe smile.
Godscalc said, ‘Don’t worry. We’re staying. Your wife’s servant is with them. Anselm Adorne keeps discreet watch, and his wife has been a tower of strength. Tilde managed to throw out John le Grant, after a difference of opinion, but she knows she needs us.’
‘Where did John go?’ Nicholas said.
‘To Venice. Gregorio is there, and Crackbene. They have begun to set up their bank. They are expecting you.’
‘Is that a good idea?’ Nicholas said. ‘How do you see Tilde’s business developing?’
‘Along different lines,’ Julius said. ‘My God, we’re not competing with you. No army, no courier work any longer. But broking, dealing, dyeing. Hides, perhaps. We have a good team, and a lot of capital and goodwill.’
‘Gregorio could help you,’ Nicholas said. ‘And you’ll have cheap alum for a while, and first quality dyes. But you must look out. The market is changing. And you don’t have the army to bring in summer money.’
‘The little lady wants to keep an army,’ said Loppe. In the subdued light, Nicholas could make out little more than his eyes and his teeth. Loppe added, ‘You have seen some of the men. She went to the armourer and got him to recruit them.’
‘How many?’ said Nicholas.
‘Not enough to make more than a bodyguard,’ Godscalc said. ‘We have hopes of reducing them. They are a danger, you are right.’
‘And Tilde and Catherine?’ Nicholas said.
‘Cat and dog,’ Julius said.
‘No,’ said Godscalc. ‘They squabble, but they are united in all that matters. In ambition. In mourning. In determination. In opposition to you. It has been, as you saw, a great strength.’
‘I told you. It’s all your own fault,’ said Julius.
‘They will mature,’ Godscalc said. ‘The town has been patient. As I have said, Anselm Adorne and his wife have been good. The girls have no real enemies.’
‘Not even the good lord Simon?’ said Nicholas. He caught the flash of Loppe’s eyes. Julius frowned.
Godscalc said, ‘I am told Simon de St Pol is safely in Portugal with his sister. His wife and father are staying in Anjou. And since we are speaking of Portugal, you know that the Duchess Isabelle has come out of retirement since the Duke’s illness?’
He had heard as much. Demanding, brilliant, wealthy, Duke Philip of Burgundy was old, and his death, one of these days, would leave Flanders with a new ruler. And Isabelle of Portugal, long estranged, was his wife. ‘So Portuguese merchants will be active,’ said Nicholas. ‘I shall keep clear of them.’
Godscalc was watching him. Godscalc said, ‘I don’t think you need be afraid of my lord Simon. He has finished with you, and bears no grudge, so far as I know, against Tilde and Catherine. It is his wife I should worry about.’
‘Well, she is unlikely to harm me from Anjou,’ Nicholas said. ‘Nor is she likely to follow me, if I don’t know myself where I am going.’
‘After three months?’ said Godscalc. ‘That is time enough to plan a lifetime. Something must have lifted your heart.’
‘That’s true,’ Nicholas said. ‘What would you say if I went to join up with Astorre?’
They all stared at him. Julius said, ‘Whose crazy idea was that? Thomas? Astorre himself?’
‘The idiocy is wholly mine,’ Nicholas said. ‘Tilde doesn’t want Thomas, so I suspect he will decide to rejoin Astorre. Why don’t I take my money and join them?’
Godscalc thought. He rarely hurried to speak. He said, ‘Hand-to-hand fighting? It is different from laying man-traps, and plotting. Or perhaps you mean to finance the company; to act as Astorre’s wealthy patron?’
‘Hand-to-hand fighting is more fun,’ Nicholas said. He held the priest’s eyes for a while and then said, ‘I haven’t decided. But while I’m here, there are some things I’d like to take with me.’
Loppe moved forward, his skin glossy black above the white of his shirt; his movements with a natural, erotic grace which, from
experience, was so far unintentional. He said, ‘I have some of them here. The small lady sleeps close to your room. She would wake if you went there.’
He opened a box already placed on a table. In it were the few clothes Nicholas had left when he departed for Trebizond, and some things he had always had, from the time he came, aged ten, to work for the Charetty. Among them was his first knife, and some of the playthings he had made with it. Made for the pleasure of Tilde, and of Catherine, and of Felix. Nicholas turned them over, and then lifted his head, and said, ‘Thank you.’
Loppe smiled. Godscalc said, ‘We’ll see them sent to the tavern. Now what else?’
Julius said, ‘He can’t have anything else. The girl’s in bed in the demoiselle’s chamber.’
Nicholas stood. The room came into his mind, arranged as when he and Marian slept in it last. He said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Godscalc was watching him. Godscalc said, ‘Time is passing. The mattress might have caught someone’s eye. It’s important you shouldn’t be seen, and not only for your own sake. Without us, the company would fall into ruin. Without Julius especially. They depend on him.’
‘I only thought,’ Nicholas said, ‘that I would like to see her office. I have nothing, you see.’
Julius was silent. Godscalc looked at Loppe. Godscalc said, ‘Then I think you should go there.’
He did so, alone, after taking his leave of all three. It was better if they hid the box and extinguished the lamp and dispersed, leaving him to make his way out alone. The future of the Charetty company depended on them, not on him. There had not been much more to say. They had wished to apologise, and to explain, and to establish a channel of communication and of goodwill, all of which they had done. He knew that Loppe was waiting to be asked to come with him; but he would not invite him.