Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [269]
‘The Grand Duke did not think so,’ said Contarini. ‘As soon as Rosso informed him, he had the fellow taken from Moscow, and put back in the Troitsa monastery. What did you say?’
‘I just mentioned,’ Nicholas said, ‘that we both know it quite well.’
‘THEY’RE BOTH FOOLS,’ said Father Ludovico, ‘but Rosso’s a rascal. Fortunately, there are some wise heads in the Duma still. They will play the Greek card, but keep the Latin one handy in case they need it. I’ll go when I choose.’
‘Not yet, then?’ Nicholas said. He had brought enough delicacies for a week. They stood stacked all round the cell.
‘Not with you, no. Not for a while. I want to hear from Uzum Hasan and see what happens in the Crimea. They’re all too busy in the West to need me. I’ll probably stay for the winter.’ He looked just the same. He looked, if you really studied him, like a man in his sixties who had travelled further and lived rougher than perhaps any other now living, and who one day would find he was tired.
Nicholas said, ‘Explain to me why you do it.’
‘That took a long time to come,’ the Patriarch said. His eyes gleamed.
‘I’m a very slow learner,’ Nicholas said. ‘Are you truly fired by a mission to keep alive the Christian war against infidels by reminding the rulers of the world of their duties? Do you dream of converting the Uzum Hasans to Christianity, and the Grand Dukes to the Roman faith? Do you find you can persuade Burgundy or the Emperor or the Pope to investigate the prospects for a Crusade if you can also promise them information in return? Or are you angry that all the crusaders, all the missionaries of the past have seeded Europe, Africa, Asia with hearty Christian colonies which have now withered to frightened, isolated groups who have none to comfort them, none to regulate and renew their pastors unless some individual can beg, borrow or steal the money, the safe conducts, the time to maintain their lifeline?’
The old man had folded his arms, his sandals stuck out before him. He said, ‘You still think life is like a diagram for a cathedral. A cathedral is a box created from numbers, whose function is to keep the rain off your head, but also provide a temporary carapace for all the limp, wilful, wandering, helpless souls that don’t operate by numbers at all, although they may occasionally refer to them. My reasons for doing something today are not what they were a year ago. They are not what they were, very likely, last week.’
‘But you know what you want,’ Nicholas said.
‘Oh yes. You have listed, in your methodical way, most of the problems that exercise the True Church. They are tackled, not in order of their importance, but as opportunity offers. They may be mended by the decrees of theologians, or by fleets and armies sent by princes and popes. Or they may be patched, as I patch my cassock, when I have a little time and some thread.’
‘So you are not, in the long run, the delegate of the Duke, or the Emperor, or the Pope,’ Nicholas said. ‘You are your own master.’
‘God is my Master,’ the Patriarch said. ‘It makes for simplicity. I commend it. For that is your trouble, isn’t it? An apprentice to too many masters, and never stopping to consider which one to choose. Still, all this experience is worth something. You have something to offer, now, when you go back. You’re not going to be Alexander the Great — no, you started too low and too late for that.’
‘But Bucephalus,’ Nicholas said.
‘The horse? Well, there’s something to be said for a horse, if it has the right rider,’ the Patriarch said. ‘And if you lose one leg, you’ve still got three others. It’s going to be dangerous.’
‘It always was,’ Nicholas said.
‘Well, you’re right there,’ said the Patriarch. ‘You only had to look out of the window, and trouble always came to you. Do you want a blessing?’
‘Can you say one?’ said Nicholas, surprised.
‘Usually,’ said the Patriarch. ‘But I might as well get in some practice.’
THE GREEK JOINED HIM at the last moment. Nicholas de Fleury was actually riding out