Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [64]
‘He hasn’t had his audience yet,’ Anna said. ‘The King didn’t come to the city. He was indisposed, and heard private Mass in the castle. His officers can’t properly arrange for Adorne to present his credentials until after the holiday. Then he will leave, and Kathi and the Patriarch with him. And Robin, of course. So there is time.’ She paused. She said, ‘I admit I am not being entirely altruistic. Julius thinks, and I agree, that you will not make up your mind until you know Adorne’s plans, as well as the Patriarch’s.’
He noticed that, when she was serious, her upper lip curved like a child’s, and was naturally tinted, like her cheeks, with a child’s rosy colour. Her gown had been dyed, very expensively, in two shades, and its fine lapels met, as befitted a lady, without sinking into the hollow below. Despite that, and the discreetly lined bodice with its custodial seams, he did not need to be told that, unconfined, her breasts were full and tender and round, and that under the swell of her ribs was a small, silken waist. Like Gelis, Anna would always be womanly, whether a maid or a wife. Kathi, whatever her state, was only her own, sexless self. Nicholas said, ‘Then arrange what you like. I don’t mind.’ His eyes, drifting downwards, had closed, and he was aware of a hazy contentment. He said, ‘What did you give me? A schlaffdruncke? Something from an apothecary?’
Her voice was like a nurse’s: amused. ‘Something from Kathi,’ she said.
There passed six curious days, during which nothing happened. The square emptied of clergy and filled again with officials taking over the leases of their houses as the hierarchy of Crown Poland made themselves available, for business and pleasure, to the magistrates and officeholders of Royal Prussia and the influential citizens of Thorn. The King and Queen made a ceremonial visit to the Burgh Halls, addressed the magistrates, were feasted and, instead of occupying their usual apartments, returned to the castle. Adorne, although he waited all day, was not summoned.
In Thorn, Friczo Straube’s house, shaking off the post-festival languor of Tuesday, resumed its normal brisk pace of business. Julius, recovering quickly, returned to treating Nicholas with his usual mixture of irritation and camaraderie, after a moody few days in which he tended towards outright aggression. And Nicholas, excusing himself from country sports, had filled his days with sedate engagements in town, drinking ale in some cellar, or playing cards or dice in the Artushof where, as Julius had particularly mentioned, he found a friendly welcome from the Scottish merchants in town, some of whom—Simpson, Lauder, Halkerston, Stephen Lawson from Haddington — he had already spent time with in Danzig. At other times, if it wasn’t raining, he would sit with Straube and his household outside his front door on the terrace, drinking wine and chatting to friends who came to lean over the balustrade, or step down with a client to unlock the door of the stockroom. On occasion, Anna would sit with him.
He knew that Adorne was still here, although he had taken care not to meet him. He also knew, as did all the town, that the promised summons to Court still delayed. On Tuesday, the King was still indisposed, and on Wednesday he was burdened with overdue business. On the day of the civic reception, through some oversight, foreign merchants were not invited to the banquet, and on the following three days the King felt constrained to remain in his castle. The only delegate who enjoyed unrestricted access was the Papal and Imperial Nuncio, Father Ludovico da Bologna, who trotted through the square on his small mule almost daily, on his way to the ferry with Brother Orazio. He did not stop at Herr Straube’s, and indeed had made no attempt to communicate since the accident of the dove, which suited Nicholas very well. Nicholas waited, and on Monday morning his messenger came: a black-clad, youngish man named Lipnicki, who wished to know whether Pan