Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [239]
They talked. Watching Gelis, painfully white, sitting at the Bank’s table shuffling papers, le Grant knew she had simply expelled from her mind, for the moment, all the other implications of the news. Perhaps she was fortified still by the conviction that she would know if Nicholas died. Perhaps she was right. Or perhaps, with the passing of time, the link had weakened or vanished, if it ever existed. He had recognised some time ago that, although a difficult woman, she had what he considered an unfeminine brain, and a dry humour, without coquetry, which he liked. He liked a great deal about her.
Their strategy, which they would follow all winter, was easily settled. Father Moriz would visit Cologne, taking Govaerts, and offering temporary management of Julius’s business until he and his wife should return. Govaerts would remain until that time in Germany, with Moriz supervising from Bruges, and assuring himself of the wellbeing of Bonne.
On the future of the army, John had already brought back the recommendations of Astorre, modified by his own advice. Pestered by Swiss attacks on Savoy, and driven from pride and greed to try to conquer Lorraine, the Duke was mad enough to fight all through the winter.
The opposition was rough but unreliable. It included Sigismond of the Tyrol, who might be discounted. It also included the goodwill of France, who would undertake to support them but wouldn’t, any more than they had supported the Emperor. And the Duke had a big enough army, with English archers, and Campobasso and his band of trained mercenaries. They could do without Astorre.
But, unusually, they were well off for money — the Low Countries, prompted discreetly by Anselm Adorne, had voted the Duke a hundred thousand thalers a year for three years, in passionate gratitude for his decision not to invade France, or to continue to engage with the Emperor. John (and Astorre) thought that Duke Charles was probably crazy, but that, if there was money to be had through the winter, Astorre’s company might as well share in it.
‘You mean you would stay with Astorre?’ Father Moriz had said. ‘What about the central army? The Bastard Anthony? Aren’t you expected to serve with the main artillery alongside Lalaing and the rest?’
And John had said, ‘I would, if the Duke didn’t command it. Anything good they designed, he would wreck.’
‘Then,’ Gelis had said, ‘should you and Astorre trust your company to the Duke’s wars? Or should you not look about for a better commander?’
‘We could,’ John had said. ‘But Burgundy is the patron of the Bank, and I thought that all branches of the Bank should contribute to its welfare. If that is still the Bank’s policy.’
And Diniz had exchanged looks with the others and had said, ‘It is. It is what Nicholas planned.’ And it was, of course, while the unimaginable wealth of the old Duke seemed inexhaustible, and the duchy was closer than ever before to becoming the Kingdom of Greater Burgundy: potentially as mighty as the Empire and France. Nicholas had formed his plans, at the time, for sound, commercial reasons; but anyone was free to alter them now. Except that it seemed that Diniz and Gelis would not; and neither, as it happened, would John. And the duchy of Burgundy encompassed both Fleury and Flanders.
John le Grant left before Christmas, because he was needed, and because his reluctance to abandon Bruges was tempered by the domesticated air of the city in winter, its trade