Caprice and Rondo (93 page)

There was a pensive silence. Nicholas de Fleury said, ‘I follow your reasoning. But the Bank in Spangnaerts Street may expect me.’

Adorne’s eyebrows rose. ‘Perhaps they would welcome you: I do not know. My stipulation is that you do not rejoin your former business. They will be told where you are. If they wish, Master Diniz or Father Moriz may visit you. But I do not wish it generally known that you are in Bruges.’

‘I see,’ the other said. ‘And what about the new Conservator, Andro Wodman? Is he to help with the planning?’

‘He is staying here. It would appear sensible. Do you have some objection?’ Adorne said. ‘He preserved your son from de Salmeton in Scotland.’

‘But he let de Salmeton go. Wodman used to serve Jordan de Ribérac, who has also threatened my son.’

‘Wodman used to be an Archer in the service of France,’ Adorne said. ‘He is no longer with France or de Ribérac. He has joined my
nephew as a dealer and merchant in Scotland, and I have found his conduct impeccable.’

‘I don’t trust him either,’ said Kathi. She had not said as much outright before. She had tried to reassure Gelis, even while she felt that Gelis shared the same doubts. She had hoped to avoid this open difference with her uncle, but she knew too much about Jordan, vicomte de Ribérac, whose hatred had haunted Nicholas all his life. Reared in Scotland, established in high mercantile circles in France, de Ribérac had always been ruthless to the apprentice born of his son’s wife.

Wodman had served the King of France and the vicomte de Ribérac. He might still be serving both.

Anselm Adorne said, ‘I am sorry to hear that, Katelijne. I should be even more sorry to hear you mention your misgivings outside this room.’

‘She is your niece. She could be right,’ Nicholas said. He was still standing.

Afterwards, Kathi thought that it was his very obstinacy, underlining Adorne’s own, that brought her uncle to his decision. He said, ‘Very well. Suppose we put it to the test. I shall ask Andro to join us.’

‘How will that help?’ Kathi said. But Nicholas did not intervene, and her uncle had already rung for a servant.

While they waited, Adorne addressed his captive, his manner collected. ‘I suppose, although you are neither free nor condemned, you are still permitted to sit. Or do you propose to stand there until nightfall?’

‘Whatever pleases you,’ Nicholas said. But he walked and sat down in the seat at one end of Adorne’s desk, not far from Kathi. Then Wodman came in.

He was an ugly man, thick-necked, with black hair and coarse features. The powerful frame, however, was that of a professional archer, and the eyes which assessed the situation were astute. He said, ‘Mistress. My lord?’ But his gaze had already clashed with that of Nicholas.

Adorne waved him to a seat. ‘You know de Fleury. He is here because of the threat from David de Salmeton. Tell us what you expect.’

‘Something spiteful,’ Wodman said. He sat with military precision, and continued to quiz, in silence, the travel-stained, impervious figure of Nicholas de Fleury.

‘So you know de Salmeton well?’ Kathi asked.

Wodman glanced at his predecessor. ‘Tell her,’ Adorne said. ‘She will not believe me.’

‘And M. de Fleury?’ said Wodman.

‘Tell him all you told me.’

‘Perhaps I can guess,’ Nicholas said. His voice was even. ‘You do know de Salmeton well, because at one time you were a Scottish Archer in France. Then you committed a murder, and left.’

‘David was an Archer at the same time,’ Wodman said. ‘I killed someone, and he and I left together. Twelve years ago, it all happened. David joined the merchant company of the Vatachino. I joined Jordan de Ribérac in his business. He always looked after good men of the Guard.’

‘I’m sure he did,’ Nicholas said. He spoke reflectively. Some of what Wodman said could be true, Kathi perceived. Before he became fat, or acquired a title, Jordan de St Pol had been a fine soldier, commanding a company of the Scottish Guard for the present King’s father in France. Wodman had also served in the Guard. But —

Kathi said, ‘But all the Scottish Archers were Scots.’

Her uncle smiled. He said, ‘Andro is from Aberdeen. His brother is Abbot of Jedburgh.’

‘And David de Salmeton is from Aberdeen also,’ Wodman said. ‘Salmeton is the French version of Simpson. David Simpson is his real name.’

Kathi stared at Nicholas, who had made a sound close to one of amusement. The fragrant, gazelle-eyed exotic of Cyprus and Cairo was an Aberdonian; a man like John le Grant. She could imagine John on receiving the news.
Davie Simpson! The loon, the wee cunt!
She said, quickly and clearly, ‘Gelis didn’t know that.’

‘I know,’ Nicholas said. During the passionate warfare between them, Gelis had secretly worked for the Vatachino, her husband’s fiercest rival in business. She had disliked, and now loathed David de Salmeton, but had known nothing of his origins, Kathi could swear.

Nicholas was speaking again, this time to Wodman. ‘But telling us about David de Salmeton is not quite enough, perhaps, to encourage us to fall into your arms? Have you no other secrets?’

Adorne smiled. Kathi, observing it, was overcome with something closer to despair than apprehension. She thought of Clémence, tamer of wilful children. But she was her uncle’s niece, not his nurse, and whatever was coming, she could not protect Nicholas from it.

Wodman said, ‘What about the biggest trade secret of all? You always wanted to know who your competitor was. You always wondered who owned the Vatachino.’

Nicholas sat very still. He had seen Adorne’s smile. Now he could analyse it. Several times in the past Adorne had invested with the Vatachino: in Iceland, in Africa. Then they had been the greatest opponents of the Banco di Niccolò, aiming at the same markets, cheating their way to success. Kathi’s uncle, unaware of their methods, had not been distressed on the occasions when the Vatachino had won. Then Gelis had joined them. Everything about the Vatachino was anathema to Nicholas de Fleury.

Wodman said, ‘It isn’t Anselm, in spite of that smile. The man was
clever. You wouldn’t suspect him. To hear him, the Vatachino were ruining his business. Except for David, his own agents didn’t know who he was, and certainly Gelis did not. Can you guess?’

‘I don’t need to,’ Nicholas said. ‘You are going to tell me. And, of course, prove it.’

‘Have you not had enough clues?’ Wodman said. ‘Did no one ever tell you what Vatachino represents in Italian? It means Walter. A good Breton name, like St Pol. As good as Simon, or Jordan.’

‘I see,’ Nicholas said. There was a long space. Then he said, ‘Always good to men of the Guard. So you mentioned.’

Kathi said, ‘Say it. Who was the owner?’ But she knew.

Her uncle still smiled. Wodman glanced at him, grinning, but said nothing. Nicholas said, ‘It seems that the man behind the Vatachino is Jordan de Ribérac. My—’ He bit off the word, but Kathi knew what it was to have been. Jordan de Ribérac, his own unproved grandfather.

‘That is so,’ Wodman said. A prosaic man, he did not linger over the implications, but ploughed on heartily with the matter in hand. ‘I have proof. Nothing you can use against the old man; I’m not David. But it means that de Ribérac could never deceive you again.’

‘David de Salmeton turned against him?’ Nicholas said. He had returned to the tone of a man calmly engaged in debate.

‘David strayed, and was dismissed in short order. Now he wants to return and take over the business. Once he has killed the vicomte, that is.’ Wodman grinned again. ‘I thought you would be interested.’

‘And now we trust you?’ Kathi said. She cleared her throat.

The Conservator turned his smile on Adorne once more. ‘You can trust me to help get rid of David. I don’t work for de Ribérac now. Sometimes I think he’s the world’s greatest bastard. But he was a good captain once, and at least he is what he is, with no pretence about it.’

‘Perhaps we should leave them to kill one another,’ Nicholas said. ‘Or no, the vicomte has been exiled to his Portuguese island. We shall have to do it ourselves after all. You didn’t manage to catch him in Scotland?’

‘He has a great many powerful friends. I scared him, though,’ Wodman said. ‘The old woman would tell you.’

Kathi reflected. The old woman? Bel. Bel, who had been with Jodi that day in Edinburgh when Raffo was killed. She saw Nicholas make the deduction, and glance at the other man.

‘So you agree?’ Adorne said. ‘We need protection, and Andro can help us. I think he has proved his credentials.’

‘I can go back to Russia,’ Nicholas said.

‘In due course,’ Adorne said. ‘I am sure you wish to stay now and see this man dealt with. Meanwhile, we should let Andro return to his desk. At least you can see, I am sure, that he had a genuine care for your Jordan.’

‘I realise that. How shall I thank you?’ Nicholas said. Kathi could not read the look in his eyes.

Wodman returned it unsmiling. ‘By making mincemeat of David de Salmeton,’ he said. ‘If you get to him first.’

He left. She had no chance even to say to her uncle:
You already knew about Jordan de Ribérac
. For, of course, Wodman had told him beforehand. Today’s trenchant exposé had not been wholly for Wodman’s benefit, or for hers. There were some things that Adorne did not forgive.

T
HEY
LOCKED
HIM
into his room. Nicholas discovered it as soon as the supper tray had been laid on his table, and the unsmiling servant had withdrawn. He was waiting, a billet by his hand, when the man returned later, but this time the door swung ostentatiously open and there was an armed man standing in attendance outside. The tray was removed and the door locked again. The window was barred and at an interesting height from the courtyard, which also held armed men. If David de Salmeton arrived, they were all going to be heroically safe.

It became fully dark, and extraordinarily cold. He had already noticed that there were no kindling materials in the room, although the bed was well provided with blankets, and there was the civilised equivalent of the
toleta
plank, to which no doubt he could make his way by the light of the moon. The room had been used as a prison before.

All the same …

He had made his preparations and was about to bang on the door and shout his complaint when he heard footsteps approaching and saw the rim of light under the door. When it opened, there were no armed men behind, only the small, athletic figure of Katelijne Sersanders, bearing a candle. She said, ‘Knock me down if you must, but I came to tell you not to be silly. You can’t possibly manage this on your own.’

He sat down.

She said, ‘Don’t. Don’t. It does all depend on you, but you must keep your head. There isn’t time for anything else.’ She added shakily, ‘I’ll go out and come back in again, if you like.’

He lifted his face, his lips pressed together, until he could speak. Then he looked at her. ‘No,’ he said. He let his liquid breath drain away.

Kathi said, ‘Ask about the children.’

‘How are the children?’

She set down the candle, drew up a stool and sat down. He remained on the bed, back to the wall, but had allowed his braced arms to bend round his knees. She said, ‘Margaret will have her second birthday in January. Perpetual health and divine grace, except when she is teething.’

‘Dulie Griet,’
he said. It meant furious Margaret. It was the name of a cannon. It meant he was recovering.

‘So Jodi often remarks. He likes her,’ Kathi said. ‘Rankin, on the other hand, is a boy, and therefore a rival. Jodi remembers you very well: Gelis tells him about you. There is a parcel of drawings you will have to appraise. Other things, too. Some boxes came from Montello. She has been waiting for you to come.’

‘How remarkable,’ Nicholas said, ‘that a simple query about your family should shift so quickly to mine. You are happy about the children. I can see that you are.’

‘I find them rather nice. Like Robin,’ Kathi said. ‘And I let Robin go because he’d never forgive me for refusing, when we are both old and fat, but he is still three years younger than I am. You know Tobie is married to Clémence?’

He straightened, leaving the wall. ‘
Na baba
. You aren’t serious?’

‘Hooks marrying the Cods? Of course I’m serious: they’re perfect for one another. He brushes his teeth every day, and she’s working out what makes him sneeze. Jodi has his own minder and tutor, but still sees Clémence a lot, and she’s been a godsend to Gelis. Aren’t you cold?’

‘I am warmed by your alchemy,’ Nicholas said. ‘
The Book of Amazing Retorts
. I have blankets. We could sit like addorsed birds and share them.’

‘We could light the brazier,’ Kathi said. ‘There’s one in that corner.’ And, as they dragged it out and set the candle solicitously to it: ‘So did you turn to drugs,’ Kathi said, ‘when you found out what Anna was like?’ She sat down again on her stool. Her hands trembled.

Nicholas remained standing. He mouthed, ‘Mary, Mother of God,’ like a fish out of water.

‘If you’re all right, we have to talk about it soon. She said it was because of your grandfather. She spent a lot of time suggesting how we could help you. I thought she was the perfect companion: the friend you needed to guide you. She kept asking us to send Gelis, and Jodi. Did you take drugs? Was that why?’

Nicholas sat. The brazier flickered. He said, ‘No, I didn’t. I wasn’t in an especially hilarious mood. But mainly, I was trying to frighten her a little.’ He broke off, his eyes resting on Kathi. He said, ‘You have nothing to blame yourself for. It was my choice to go with her. I admired her, I even wanted her, but I did nothing about it. I didn’t realise that she was missing Julius, and desperate for a lover. Then, when I disappointed her, she turned the knife on herself. That was all.’

He heard her sigh. She said, ‘Nicholas. You must know who she is.’

His heart disengaged, idled, and resumed beating slowly in axe-blows.
Whoever is unsupported by the Mystery of Love shall not achieve the grace of salvation. Whoever shall cast love aside shall lose everything
. He said, ‘There is nothing to talk about.’