Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [19]
In Lübeck it was the same; and after the meetings were over, the merchant societies, as was usual, politely sent to claim Adorne as their guest. His niece was not invited. It was by accident, therefore, that one of Adorne’s hosts arrived early to collect him one evening and, waiting, chatted to Kathi. Heinrich Castorp was the richest merchant in Lübeck; the King of Denmark (he said) had once pledged him his crown for a loan. He had also resided in Bruges for nine years. It had been a long time ago, but Heinrich Castorp still recognised a French–Flemish accent when he heard it. So he came to mention the companionable fellow who had passed through to Danzig this winter, and now spent his time, so they said, raising hell with that rascal Paúel Benecke. Name of Colà. Her uncle might know him.
‘No. I’m sure he doesn’t,’ Kathi said. The Patriarch was out. She could hear Robin breathing. Then her uncle came downstairs and he and the Lübecker left. They were to watch a special performance at the exclusive club of the Cirkelselschop where the Burgundian envoy would be offered, and would successfully drink, fifteen tumblers of wine. She turned to Robin, and smacked her hands shut in traitorous triumph. Then she gave a sniff.
Robin said hoarsely, ‘Nicholas. It must be. Of course it is. Christ, what shall we do? He’s with Benecke! Your uncle won’t let us see him.’
‘We don’t tell him. Benecke is crazy,’ Kathi said. She and Robin had met him in Iceland. Benecke had courted her. Benecke had asked her to go with him to Danzig. She had no qualms at all about Benecke, she was worrying so much about everyone else.
She sniffed again, and this time Robin looked at her. Then he took her shoulder and shook it. He said, ‘You didn’t believe it. You said he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but you didn’t really believe it.’
‘I did,’ she said. She felt weak.
‘But we ought to make sure,’ Robin said with sudden decision. ‘Look. There’s a club of cod-fishers here, the Bergenfahrers. Someone asked me to come. They allow women. We could both go and see what they know. Oh goodness, I knew he was going to be all right.’
They went and ate pickled herring, and Robin sang, when he was invited, and drank, to Kathi’s admiration and alarm, as much ale as Adorne ever managed of wine, and with equal aplomb. There was gossip about people they knew, and Robin encouraged it. There were men who took fish into Bruges, and traded with the Banco di Niccolò; who had corresponded with Julius, its agent in Germany, and knew of his beautiful wife. But inquisitive Julius of the unfettered conscience had not passed through here yet, nor discovered, clearly, that the convivial Colà had another name. No one had, so it seemed. The cod-fishers sang, stamped and drank but had nothing to say of the sociable stranger. As the night wore on, the atmosphere thickened, and the reddened faces of Rolf and Hermann and Hanke reminded Kathi of others, swaying, gleeful, in fleets of small vessels off Iceland, while the smoke in her throat was that of a mountain about to explode. The greatest spectacle ever conceived, by a Master no man could ever compete with.
It was because of Iceland, she knew, that Robin retained, unconfessed, that ultimate, ineradicable belief that the gleams of virtue in Nicholas could be coaxed into constancy; that one day he should be,