Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [291]
He still appeared to think that he would be home for Christmas. It annoyed him extremely to learn that the King of Portugal was on his way, in the flesh, to ask his cousin Duke Charles to finish the war. You got the same kind of thing all the time from the Pope and the Emperor and the King of Hungary, but they didn’t trouble to come in person and tie the camp into knots.
The garrison in Nancy, feeling its dried meat and sour milk, if not its oats, made a sudden sally, set fire to a whole row of tents and seized some guns and provisions. The Duke was furious, and Astorre was not best pleased himself. A mercenary deserved a tight, well-led army. He tried to think of one.
IN BRUGES, the fortress of the Hôtel Jerusalem was penetrated, after some lengthy preliminaries, by the director and chaplain of the Hof Charetty-Niccolò in Spangnaerts Street, and Diniz and Father Moriz laid eyes, for the first time for three years, on the discredited patron they had sent into exile.
Nicholas, liberated for the occasion into the luxury of Adorne’s empty parlour, greeted them mildly, in the way of a visitor renewing a passing acquaintance. Disconcerted at first, Father Moriz began, without comment, to respond in the same way. Diniz, highly uncomfortable, answered questions about Catherine and Tilde and extracted, painlessly, their stepfather’s scribbled endorsement of Catherine’s marriage. Then Nicholas asked after the daughter of Diniz and Tilde.
‘Daughters,’ Diniz said, his face lighting. ‘Marian and Lucia.’
‘Lucia?’ Nicholas said. His voice had warmed. ‘For your mother.’ And after a moment, ‘How proud she would have been.’
It seemed to Diniz that he could be natural at last. He said impulsively, ‘I shall tell my daughter. When she is old enough, I shall tell her how her grandmother died, and what you did, you and Julius.’
‘You must do as you please,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Julius now? He must be anxious to know if his business survives.’
‘We correspond,’ Moriz said. ‘That is, he has written to us. He has proposed several times to come to Bruges, but never at a time when Diniz or myself can be present.’
‘That seems wise,’ Nicholas said. ‘Now, what can I tell you that would be helpful?’
They talked about business. It was as effective as any discussion they had had in the past — more so, because of the maturity now so evident in Nicholas. It might have lasted longer had it not inevitably strayed towards the personal. The subject of Gelis and her informed assistance in Venice, Bruges and Ghent was mentioned only once (by Father Moriz) and dropped immediately. Diniz, speaking of business intelligence, had been moved to blurt out, ‘We got your messages after you left. And the money. Why give us your money?’
‘I am afraid,’ Nicholas said, ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
But their dismissal came when Diniz remembered his grandfather, Jordan de Ribérac. He sat, his dark eyes full of anger and shame, and said, ‘How could he do it! He set out to ruin the Bank, and me, and you, and was too base to admit it. He even let Gelis join him.’ He broke off and said, ‘I always thought Adorne might be behind the Vatachino.’
‘He didn’t know until Wodman told him,’ Nicholas said. He rose from the chair. ‘So that is sufficient? I was glad to hear all your news. But we ought, perhaps, to avoid becoming too close as yet.’
Returning home, Moriz had halted Diniz in the midst of a tirade. ‘What did you expect? He let us down, we sent him away, and he has come back without leave. He is bound to be cautious. Also, by chance, we know far too much — all the most personal details of his childhood; all about Anna. She is still his family, and we have the power to destroy her.’
‘But he needs us,’ said Diniz.
‘He knows that,