Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [103]
Chapter 11
As cald with heit and richt so heit with cald,
Ioye with sorrow richt so the contrar wald.
IN BRUGES, THE cells in the Steen, even the better rooms, were rank, now, with over-use. As the arguments and counter-arguments pounded on, the law hung suspended, and Anselm Adorne and his fellow magistrates lived from day to day in the prison, passing the time in the quiet pursuits of reading and card-playing and talking, the more timid taking their example from the courage of the rest.
Locked away from the fluctuating temper of the mob, they were treated with pointed aloofness by the gaoler, the bailiff, the turnkeys who supervised the cleaning of their privies and fetched the rough food that was all their staple. The provisions they relied on were those brought from outside: money gave them access to that, as well as to rooms on the upper storey, and bedding, and freedom from manacles. It did not buy exemption from torture. Not all had suffered; Adorne so far had been spared, together with two of his own closer friends: Paul van Overtweldt, who had been his First Burgomaster two years before, and the magistrate Jean de Baenst, who was related to Margriet, his late wife. Others, less lucky, had come back silent and limping and scarred from their questioning. Out of sixteen burgomasters and treasurers to be accused, the sole condemned man, Barbesaen, was guarded elsewhere.
As well as provender, they were permitted visitors, who brought them clothes, and news, and received instructions for the family or the business left masterless outside. In the case of Adorne of Cortachy, the routines established by his niece continued uninterrupted after her departure, and the household of the Hôtel Jerusalem, under his chamberlain, did their utmost to ease his imprisonment. His groom or his body-servant passed to and fro with satchels and baskets containing ink and paper and letters, books and linen, and his chaplain from the Jerusalemkerk paid anxious visits, as did the religious of the churches in the other places—Ronsele, Viven and Hertsberge—where he had inherited seigneurial rights. He had been a liberal patron, and they were rightly anxious. His family visited, assiduously, and the nuns his daughters all wept.
Gelis, making her own regular calls to the Steen, avoided them if she could. Most often she was accompanied by Dr Andreas, who had moved into the Hôtel Jerusalem, the better to campaign for its master. Andreas of Vesalia bore a name that carried some weight: his father had been town doctor of Brussels and Rector of the University of Louvain; his late half-brother Everard had been doctor to the little Duchess herself. But more important even than that, he was a respected member and doctor to the leather guilds, bound by their trade both to Genoa and the Adornes. All his life, Adorne had been generous to the guilds, and a popular member of the merchants’ club, the White Bear Society. Diniz spent all the time he could spare at the White Bear, pursuing support for his uncle. Andreas did the same with the skinners and glovemakers. And Gelis used her influence with her van Borselen relatives; on Wolfaert, the Governor at Veere; on Gruuthuse here, on whom the Duchess depended.
On advice, she did not try to speak directly to the Duchess again, and John le Grant, who had once accompanied her, did not offer to do so now. Since Robin and Tobie had gone, the engineer had lost what little interest he had had in the winding up of the mercenary company, and had begun to exchange his desk for the quayside at Sluys, or even the wharves as far off as Antwerp, where there were always men whom he knew, and taverns to meet them in. He had his share of the company money, and was free to live as he chose: Tilde kept his room and Diniz accepted his wandering without comment. It was understandable that, now, he did not want to exchange one responsibility for another.
Within the prison whose outer walls he had protected such a short time ago, Adorne received his