Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [99]
She had flushed. ‘On Venetian advice.’
‘And that of others. The lord your husband was of significant help.’
‘Nicholas was in Poland?’ the lawyer Gregorio broke in. He was still pale. ‘What was he doing?’
Zeno released a delicate sigh. ‘What was he not doing? I am sorry, madonna, but you must know your husband: his love of drink and riotous living. Tragedy was going to come of it: something much worse, madonna, than crazy contests and rich, idle women, such as Paúel Benecke pushed in his way all through the last winter. When Benecke left, it seemed that all might be well. We talked, as I said. De Fleury commended himself to the Queen and her sons, describing to them the proper management of Scotland. But the rot was there, the tragedy was preparing from the moment your former colleague arrived. Your lawyer friend Julius.’
Again, it was the man who responded, his voice as sharp as his nose. Gregorio was not renowned for his looks. ‘Julius was in Danzig?’
‘Thorn. All of this happened in Thorn. Ah! Herr Straube does not, of course, report to Venice now?’
‘He works for Julius. But Julius, of course, writes from time to time, and no doubt we shall hear from him. So?’ said Gelis. ‘Apart from the Burgundian Mission, where was the tragedy?’
‘Julius will not write to you, madonna,’ said Zeno sadly. ‘Your Maestro Julius is dead, killed in public before the eyes of his wife and the merchants of Thorn. Another San Matteo, you say! Another international incident, requiring the attention of princes? No, for your Maestro Julius was slain by a man of his own kind. By your husband, madonna. By his former patron, M. Nicholas de Fleury.’
Predictably, it was the lawyer who jumped to his feet. ‘I don’t believe you.’ The young woman sat motionless, her eyes large. The man Gregorio spoke again, a little more formally. ‘I am afraid I find this hard to believe. How and where is it supposed to have happened?’ And finally, after a pause, ‘Did they come to blows? Was M. de Fleury the worse for drink?’
‘Yes,’ said Caterino Zeno in a soft voice. ‘I am afraid he was. But they did not quarrel, at least. There was a contest. They had bows. M. de Fleury’s horse slipped, and his arrow misfired. He was not imprisoned or called to account: the shooting was clearly an accident. But a tragic one for your friend and his wife.’
‘Anna?’ The woman opposite him moved at last. ‘What happened to Anna?’
Caterino Zeno conveyed deep regret. ‘The details I do not know: you will hear them from Anselm Adorne. But the last word I heard was that the Gräfin, courageous as you are, had determined to carry on her husband’s business, and was leaving for the trading marts of the Crimean peninsula. Our friend Nicholas de Fleury, they say, proposed to accompany her.’
This time it was the lawyer who flushed. ‘You find that strange? That Nicholas should give a woman protection?’
‘Not at all!’ said Caterino Zeno, laying down his wine glass and rising. ‘It is what I should expect, except that, of course, a former Venetian banker might require more protection in the Peninsula than he can give. No. I came in friendship to tell you the facts before others hear them. You will have cause to be glad, perhaps, that you and your Bank are no longer tied to de Fleury or Burgundy. You will not even require, I suppose, to consider the fate of the Cologne business, as that will descend to the widow and her young daughter.’ He viewed the lady sympathetically, his head to one side. ‘Have I distressed you? Please forgive me.’
The lady rose. She said, ‘You have done what you came to do, and we shall no doubt receive the full story in due course, from the other participants, as you say. I am not sure that I understand why the Gräfin and M. de Fleury are both leaving Poland?’
He gave a gentle shrug, while retaining his expression of sympathy. ‘The lady’s company had urgent business in Caffa where the Genoese live and trade, as you know,