Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [85]
Nicholas said, ‘It will be hard to find the truth, now that the archer is dead. You were not hurt? Robin and Kathi?’
‘Are also unharmed. I would not have spoken to you as I have,’ said Adorne unexpectedly, ‘if you had been the worse for wine. But no man in his cups could have made those hoof-shots as you did. Your friend did not lose his life through your failings, but from mischance.’
The rain fell. Nicholas, finding a stay from the mast at his side, ran his fingers along it and kept it. Adorne, after waiting a moment, moved off towards the little tableau around Julius’s still body. Nicholas shut his eyes. It was Anna’s voice he heard next, soft and clear above the beat of the rain. ‘Wait! Wait! He is breathing!’
Adorne said, ‘De Fleury? Are you there? He is alive!’
Nicholas heard him. Although his hearing persisted, his brain and his sight had become disconnected. His grip slackened. The cable rasped through his palm, and the ground tilted below him. He did not realise that he had fallen, and was lying, like Julius, in the mud.
IT WAS GIVEN TO Robin to shepherd Nicholas home, once the field had been cleared and the fit of dizziness had sufficiently passed.
Glancing at him from time to time as they rode, his former squire made no attempt at conversation. He had already said all that was necessary: a quick assurance that Master Julius still lived; and a word to explain that Nicholas himself was to stay at Adorne’s house, to leave space for the sick man at Herr Straube’s.
‘Adorne wouldn’t wish that,’ Nicholas had said.
‘He suggested it,’ Robin had answered. That was all that had been said.
Robin was thankful for it, and guilty because he was thankful, with two-thirds of his mind singing with the news he had just heard. He thought of Kathi’s face, looking at his, and felt again a pang of mild anger at Anna’s thoughtlessness. It would mend itself, as soon as Kathi and he were alone. Meanwhile, it was easier to be here than in her company, and forced to be speechless. They were to have a child. He was to have the joy, all his life, of Kathi’s child.
Remorsefully, he looked again at the closed face beside him, but was too wise, now, to blurt out encouragement. Now you have both of us, he had said, brashly, to this man by the river at Trèves, and had seen Kathi’s glance of warning too late. For what had happened today, he had no comfort to offer. He had never had such an experience, although he knew it could happen in battle: the spurting arrow, the gaudy sword-stroke that severed the life of a friend. It was probable that Julius would not survive. Of course, there would be no recriminations. Everyone had seen the horse stumble. Everyone knew how long the two men had been together, in Bruges and then with the Bank. Robin grieved for Nicholas, without knowing what to say that would help.
It meant, of course, profound changes even if Julius survived. Julius could not now go to the Black Sea and Caffa. Nicholas might well stay in Thorn and work out his penance by presenting his talents to his company. And of course, there were other plans now overturned that he had scarcely as yet had time to think of. Kathi’s uncle was returning not just to Danzig, but to Flanders. And the offer so lightly made by his niece was no longer valid. Robin and Kathi would not now be calling at Caffa, or taking Lord Cortachy’s place at Tabriz. Kathi would return home with her uncle, and Robin with her, to await the …
His horse jerked, and Robin hissed under his breath and then steadied it. Something had dawned on him. Kathi had known she was pregnant when she had made the offer to travel to Tabriz. She had wanted to go. And that was why she had not immediately told him.
Nicholas said, ‘Are you all right? Is Kathi all right? I’m sorry, I should have made sure.’
His face was still colourless, but not quite so closed. Robin took a quick decision and said, ‘She’s more than all right, sir. It has been a better day for us than for you. I have just heard the news: she’s with child.’
‘You’ve just heard?