Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [66]
He knew her to be adept in Italian because she had stayed at the court of the Emperor, in the days when his secretary was that golden poet and future Pope, the idol and model of Callimaco. You might almost say that the shadow of the late Pope Pius lay over this meeting. It was for his aborted Crusade that the San Matteo had been built, and it was by his decree (later regretted) that Fra Ludovico da Bologna had become Patriarch of Antioch, in which capacity he was now present in Thorn, representing both the current Pope and the Emperor. How loyally he was representing either master was as questionable as the degree of accord between the Queen and her second cousin. One day, their heirs would compete for the Empire.
Nicholas stood, accepting her scrutiny, and betraying nothing but deference. Callimaco, delicate as a carving at the Queen’s side, watched him also. It had always been possible, from the moment Nicholas came back to Thorn, that he would receive a royal summons: it was one of the reasons why he had delayed making decisions. Now suddenly he was here, squarely placed on a board quite as complex as any of those from which he had been driven. He experienced, distantly, a flicker of interest: another game, another puzzle, another project. Nicholas, his voice gentle, said, ‘Madame, how may I serve you?’
Someone knocked on the door. The Queen turned her head and Callimaco, without spoken orders, crossed the room and admitted a welldressed nobleman in his mid-thirties who doffed his hat, bowing, and ushered in his companions. There were four of these, all fair, all bright-eyed and handsome and ranging in age from, he guessed, sixteen or so down to seven. Nicholas did not need to be told who they were, although the Queen introduced them: ‘Kazimierz, Jan Olbracht, Aleksander and Zygmunt. Four of my sons.’
The eldest, of course, was not present. The eldest, Wladyslaw, was King of Bohemia. And the nobleman with them was the scholar Jan Ostrórog, who had graduated from Bologna five years after Julius did, and who had just been awarded a lucrative post by the King. The Queen said, ‘You were asking how you might serve me, and I shall tell you. My sons are here to learn. You will be seated, and then you will tell us your view of the Kingdom of Scotland, and how it is ruled, and what advances it has made towards prosperity. For, although we have persons of many nationalities in our kingdom, and quiz all that we may, we seldom have men who have touched, as you have, on the central trade and monetary affairs of a country. You do not object?’
He did object. He could not say so. He said, ‘Illustrious lady, I am no longer a banker, or even a merchant.’
Her voice was dry. ‘You would not be here if you were. You have been in this kingdom for six months. You may wish to stay longer. I desire you to look at the country you have left, and compare the two. Tell me about coinage. The King of Scotland saw fit to debase his silver? Why was this thought to be necessary? Does he not forbid the export of precious metals? And how does he mine those he has?’
Poland, stretching from sea to sea, was the largest country in Europe; Scotland one of the smallest. He thought at first that he was betrayed: that someone — Adorne? — must have named him, and mustered a list of all the destructive policies which he had launched. Then, as the questions continued, he saw that this was not so; that he was the subject of a purely intellectual enquiry which ranged over all those subjects, economic, financial, industrial, which were of common interest, and which included matters of much wider import, from the relations of the King to his subjects to the relations of the King to the Church. Ostrórog in particular had been amused. ‘At least you forced through your Archbishop, bravo! We have had a Primate for nearly sixty years, and for more than ten, all abbots and bishops have been appointed by our