To Lie with Lions (81 page)

Nicholas was unable to smile, but the idea amused him. He supposed he must look exactly like Henry. He said, ‘Partly. Also, I played a trick on the fat man which he didn’t like. He has threatened to finish the chastisement in Scotland. We’ll see.’

‘Where is Henry?’ said Tobie.

‘In Ribérac’

‘The vicomte told you?’

‘I haven’t seen him. I guessed.’

‘You didn’t ask?’ Tobie said. ‘You thrashed that boy, and saw him captured by strangers, and you didn’t
ask?’

‘I didn’t need to,’ said Nicholas. ‘Where is Jordan? My Jordan?’

‘Henry is your Henry,’ Tobie said. His face shone with temper. He said, ‘Why do you make me do this? You need rest. This is not the time to discuss all of this.’

‘It is. You made a promise to Godscalc. Henry is the heir-male of my body, and I, too, swore to protect him. He is safe. He was captured by his grandfather’s orders and his grandfather sent him to Ribérac. Perhaps he will even take him to Scotland. If you give me my pendulum, I can tell you where both my sons are.’

Tobie said, ‘They are both safe. I am sure you are right. Go to sleep. It is too early to talk.’

He heard himself murmur a protest, but his strength had waned, and he could feel his mind losing its grip. He said, ‘I put Robin in Bruges,’ and, frowning, sank into sleep.

When Tobie came next, he was awake, half sitting back on the pillows, breathing deeply. Darkness had fallen, and moths rapped on the ceiling and whirred round the blazing wax lights by his bed. The perspiration ran down his skin. Tobie said, ‘What have you done? You shouldn’t move.’

Every inch of his body told him that. He said, ‘Send Robin in.’

Tobie said, ‘He is busy.’

Then Nicholas lifted his hand from the sheet and showed the cord,
and the pellet, and the map. Tobie looked at them; and went out of the room.

Nicholas lay back on the pillows. Although the shutters were open, the night seemed to have swallowed the air: his throat ached. His limbs would mend, he had been told, but he could neither walk nor ride till they did. If he over-extended his strength, the fever would attack him again. Tobie had known all of that.

Robin of Berecrofts came in. Nicholas had not seen him since that senseless dismissal at Bruges; he had tried to make amends. The boy looked pallidly resolute, like a trader caught with counterfeit stock. Nicholas said, ‘Thank you for coming. You don’t need to hide anything now. I know my wife and son have left Antwerp. I suspect they are travelling to Scotland, and you decided, rightly, that I ought to be told?’

‘Ser Diniz agreed,’ Robin said. ‘I didn’t know where you were. I’d reached Captain Astorre when the message came that you were here. Dr Tobie said I should come with him.’ He paused. ‘I can go back. I wasn’t trying to disobey orders.’

‘Henry has gone,’ Nicholas said. ‘You can stay if you wish. Do you want to fight?’

The boy’s eyes gazed at him, considering. The boy said, ‘It depends, my lord. The Duke has taken Eu and St Valéry-sur-Somme, but not very securely. The troops have gorged themselves in the orchards, and there is a good deal of sickness and not very much food. Captain Astorre says the rumours about secret truce talks are probably true, and he is sticking to the job of guarding Master John’s guns in the rear, since M. d’Orson has – has died of his wounds. We were to tell you that his men are properly fed and in reasonable health, but he doesn’t expect to see anything much more done this season. That’s the situation, my lord.’

‘In other words, “No”,’ Nicholas said.

‘It is for you to say, my lord,’ the boy said. Tobie, who had followed him in, had not spoken.

Nicholas said, ‘I think you had better come with me to Scotland. See me later.’

He watched the boy glance at the doctor, and then bow slightly and leave. He was a good lad. Archie ought to be proud. Nicholas withdrew his eyes and turned to Tobie.

‘When did they go, Gelis and Jordan?’

‘Three weeks ago,’ Tobie said.

‘So now we can guess why this happened.’

‘To stop you from going to Scotland? Nonsense. De Ribérac couldn’t have known. He had plenty of other good reasons for crippling you.’

‘No. He knew,’ Nicholas said. ‘She will be in Scotland by now.’

‘You meant to take her back there in any case,’ Tobie said. ‘You must have been sure you could protect them. She will be in Edinburgh. Simon will be in Kilmirren. Gelis will take proper precautions. She will do all you would have done.’

‘I know,’ Nicholas said.

‘So what is it?’ said Tobie. ‘That she went? Is that it? That she thinks she can force you to follow? Well, she’s wrong, isn’t she? Fate took a hand there, and you can’t.’

‘But then Fate brought you here, and I can.’

Tobie’s eyes, when he faced opposition, had always seemed to become rounder and paler, while their pupils concentrated, sharp as two pins. Nicholas looked into them now, and despite his own desperation, surprised in himself a wave of relief. It came from physical weakness, and would not last. He was alone. Everyone was.

Tobie said, ‘No, you can’t,’ as he expected.

Nicholas said, ‘Then I’ll get Robin to take me. You can come later. Do you want to come later? You probably don’t.’

‘I don’t. Why did Godscalc forbid you to go back to Scotland?’

‘For two years, that was all. I stayed away for two years,’ Nicholas said. He had forgotten that Tobie knew that.

‘And he would want you to go back now? Other things being equal?’

Other things aren’t equal,’ Nicholas said. ‘Simon and his father are a threat to Gelis and Jordan.’

‘And to you.’

‘That is their belief. Let them hold it while they can.’

Tobie said, ‘That is really why you are going back? To destroy the St Pols, because of what they did, are still doing to you? And then what?’

‘Who knows?’ Nicholas said. ‘Come to Scotland if you want to find out. I shall be there for the winter. I don’t expect to be there ever again. I aspire to an Imperial destiny.’

Tobie went. Nicholas lay, subduing his anger and fear and, in growing calm, was able to assemble and contemplate, once again, the finely geared instrument he had spent so long designing, now running its course.

Soon, the portion dealing with France would find itself losing momentum and would begin to wind down and cease, once the vicomte had succumbed.

The Tyrol had completed its initial part in the plan, and was about to contribute more. One could not be sorry for Sigismond, and his Duchess had played throughout with her eyes open. He was supposed
to take account of what she had done for him in the past, and he would.

He had bought indemnity from the Signoria and would not take part in the Venetian Crusade; he meant to crush the Vatachino in Europe, and if the price was the loss of his gold, he was willing to pay it. He had promised Bessarion nothing.

Adorne could look after himself. So could Cyprus. Godscalc Protector of Bridges was dead; Bessarion dying. He could not be every man’s conscience.

He could not foresee the future, or not so far as he knew. But his guess, his informed guess was that the supreme power in Europe would fall to Burgundy and its new empire, of which the Bank would be part. Fleury would be Burgundian. And next year, the business of Scotland would be over, and he would take Gelis aside and say, ‘This is what lies ahead. Now, have we not come to the end?’

In that mood, he could forget the dawn over Sinai; Jordan screaming at Veere; the white death in Iceland; the miscalculation – the naïve miscalculation which had led to what had happened by the Loire, coupled with the headstrong flight of Gelis, with all its possible consequences.

Tobie had been right. He had been angry because she had forced him to follow. She would be in the same country as Simon, and without her husband. That was the real challenge she had sent him, defiantly, cynically, using against him the art she so hated. Because he could divine where she was, she would count on him to follow immediately.

And that was all right. Responsibility belongs to the person who chooses. God is without blame.

Chapter 38

P
LANNING IT
, Gelis van Borselen gave Nicholas three days to get to the coast and find a vessel in which to pursue her. If he were deeply embroiled elsewhere, he might take a day or two longer. Or, if he were more disciplined than she expected, he might stay where he was, until Diniz sent word of her destination. She had made sure that Bruges knew where she was going. He would be a week behind her at most, and very angry.

The voyage to Scotland was unremarkable. At Leith, she remained on board ship until Govaerts responded to her call for an armed escort into town. She made no effort to visit the High Street, but installed herself and the child and his nurses in the domestic wing of the Casa Niccolò in the Canongate. To Govaerts, she said that the private quarrel with the St Pol family had now become grave, and that her husband had ordered that until he arrived, the house should be discreetly protected, with a permanent guard for herself and the child.

Govaerts was able to tell her that Simon de St Pol had been for some weeks at Kilmirren, although his father the vicomte was still abroad. She expected Simon to move east almost immediately, and during the two days that followed, made all the outside calls that she must, before retiring to the confines of the house along with Jodi, who was pleased with his welcome, but resentful of the absence of his father and Robin.

She had no need to repeat her warnings to Mistress Clémence and Pasque, who already knew what had happened between Nicholas and Simon’s son Henry. They also knew – everyone did – of her misconduct with Simon four years ago, and his rage at being used in her war with her husband. Until now, his father had kept him away.

The harassment began on the fourth day, a sign of unusual efficiency. At first it affected only the house in the High Street, which was kept in her absence by two sisters who slept in the kitchen, but
came daily to serve the big house in the Canongate. It began with minor annoyances: a baxter persistently claiming a non-existent debt; the accidental breaking of shutters; the destructive robbing of the finest trees in the orchard. When Govaerts sent two men to stay in the house, they found the water barrels were tainted. It culminated in a fight in the street, after a drunk man had insisted on entering, claiming to think the place was a brothel.

In the Casa Niccolò, all the food and water was tested, and there was a guard night and day. No official complaint had been made: nothing was traceable to Simon, who had settled into his house near the top of the High Street and was peaceably dividing his time between the affairs of his estates and occasional serious consultations at the royal kennels and stables where the King, unused to incipient fatherhood, had come to value his advice on matters of venery. Simon was to all intents pure. One could not complain without regenerating the scandal.

While all the rest of the town pretended ignorance, the Berecrofts family was predictably sensible. Calling to invite her to visit, Archie had conveyed, mildly flushed, his father’s considered opinion. ‘I’m to say that one lassie’s mistake should be noways prejudicial to a fine lady like Gelis van Borselen, and that if either Robin or your husband took a fist to that useless brat Henry, it was because he deserved it.’ After a while he had added, ‘In any case, what can the loon Simon do? Anything serious, and the law would clap him in prison.’

She had been touched and sickened at once – sickened as she always was at any mention of Simon. She reminded herself, yet again, why she was doing this. She also remembered that Archie of Berecrofts and his father had been threatened by Simon, once, for sheltering Nicholas. Or so Kathi had told her.

The Sersanders sister and brother were in Edinburgh: she had received greetings from both, among the other messages of welcome that had come to the Casa. Anselm Sersanders and his clerks were lodged in the house his uncle held in the High Street. Another of the Iceland adventurers had returned to his rooms in the Cowgate: Martin, the red-headed agent of the Vatachino who had outsmarted Nicholas, and brought home Adorne’s sulphur from Iceland.

Gelis gathered that Sersanders had disapproved of some of Martin’s performance in Iceland, and the two now rarely spoke. The sister, Kathi, was back in Haddington at her post with the young Princess Margaret, and the Princess’s sister had joined them. In her present state of marital suspension, it was not surprising that poor Mary had been lodged in a convent. They said England was finding Tom Boyd inconvenient, and he might be reduced to the life of a mercenary.
Nicholas, had he been here, would no doubt be reminding the Countess that, whatever she craved, it was her duty to stay with her children. But Nicholas wasn’t here.

The next person to suffer was Mistress Clémence who, disapproving of her charge’s isolation, had elected to bring him a reward from the booths outside St Giles. Stalking uphill through the mud, she paid no attention at first to the jostling on the crown of the road until hands on one side dragged and tore at her thick hooded cloak, and on the other tugged and emptied her basket. She caught the lad who did that and fetched him a slap on the jaw before the rest turned her round and shoved her over the highway and down the steep wynd on the other side.

There, losing her footing, she slipped, and they kicked her between them, rolling her over and over as she gasped and flailed and tried to grip their legs and their shoes. Then they scattered and fled, as helpers poured down the hill, a girl ahead of them all who stopped her fall by flinging herself bodily below her, exclaiming. ‘Mistress Clémence! Are you hurt? Lie still. Lie still, help is coming.’

It was the young girl, Katelijne Sersanders, and behind her was their own neighbour, Archie of Berecrofts.

‘If you will allow me to sit up …’ said Mistress Clémence, doing so. She pulled down her skirts, eased her shoulders and made a brief appraisal of her limbs. She said, ‘I am bruised, but not otherwise injured. Perhaps you would help me to rise. Thank you. It is kind of you. I suppose the rogues have all vanished?’