Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [110]
‘Until?’
‘Until Nicholas grew old enough to take his revenge. He ruined Jaak’s business, which incidentally impoverished the vicomte as well. In the riots that followed, Jaak’s wife Esota was killed. And then Jaak himself died when he came to Bruges and tried to take over Marian’s business.’
‘Nicholas killed him?’ Gelis said.
‘He fought him. No, he didn’t kill him,’ Tobie said.
‘You mean, not directly,’ Gelis said. ‘Nicholas rarely destroys anything directly.’ She gazed at the arbour where the monk, silent now, was placing pillows behind the disabled man’s head, and pouring him water. Gelis said, ‘I suppose I know why you have suddenly decided to confess all this now. This is a man whom Nicholas ruined, and whose brother he virtually killed. If he has any recollection of that, he will not welcome us.’
Tobie said, ‘This is also the man who made no provision for Nicholas while he was well, so that his keepers could do what they liked. If he has enough wit, as you say, then he might regret it enough to explain. We’re here to discover who the father of Nicholas was. Nicholas was born in the vicomte’s house at Fleury and lived there with his mother until he was seven. His mother claimed that Nicholas was the legitimate son of her husband, Simon de St Pol. Simon maintains that the child wasn’t his, because he hadn’t lain with his wife since she miscarried of a first son. She said she was innocent, but the St Pols did not believe her. But would the vicomte have allowed her to stay if the birth had been shameful?’
‘He needed her,’ Gelis said. ‘To run the household, and rear his legitimate daughter. Or perhaps he was too ill to know.’
‘Perhaps,’ Tobie said. ‘Have you ever worked out what Simon’s age must have been at his marriage? He must have been fifteen or sixteen. Thirteen years younger than Sophie.’
‘I know,’ Gelis said, after a silence. ‘You would say she had trapped him into marriage, except that she was well born and her family possibly richer than his. My guess is that Simon did what he usually does: took what he wanted. And when it led to a child, he was compelled by both families to marry. He would resent that.’
‘So he might have lied to get out of the marriage?’
‘He might,’ Gelis said. ‘But I don’t think he did. Simon truly believes that his wife cheated. Just as Nicholas truly believes that he is Simon’s son.’
Tobie looked at her. She had spoken with her usual composure, but had broken off at the end, as if her throat had stopped. Nicholas had always believed he was Simon’s son: Tobie knew that. Gelis’s exploitation of that fact had been one of the cruellest features of the bitter contest between Nicholas and herself. If, in the outcome, Nicholas had outraged them all, he had some excuse. But not enough.
Then the monk called Brother Huon came towards them, his gown brushing the grass, and said, ‘He is ready to see you: please come. But perhaps you would have care not to tire him. His strength does not last long.’
‘We shall be careful. I shall call you at the first hint of difficulty,’ Tobie said.
The monk smiled. ‘Have no fear, I do not repeat private conversations. I have told him who you are. He wishes to see you. But communication would be difficult without me.’
Private conversations! Tobie said, ‘Forgive me. We have received reports of the vicomte’s health and understanding … that were perhaps erroneous?’
A sound came from the litter. Brother Huon looked