Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [117]
‘Whenever didn’t you?’ Gelis said.
IN BED, HOLDING him in her arms, she said, ‘Davie Simpson?’
‘Yes,’ he said. It was warm, and the bedding was all over the floor. ‘At least, he sent the silver, although I can’t prove it. I suspect he stole the horses and set Henry on me as well.’
‘Henry spoke up for you,’ Gelis said. She turned her head. ‘The first time. The very first time.’
Against her skin, his face became still. His eyes were open. Then they flickered and he said, ‘Don’t count on it too much. It comes and goes. He didn’t report that the silver was Simpson’s, although he knew it.’
‘He doesn’t want his grandfather to know,’ Gelis said. ‘One hint of that unholy alliance, and Jordan de St Pol would kill Henry, or Simpson, or both.’
‘Perhaps we should tell Grandfather,’ Nicholas said. There was a strand of bitterness in it.
She said nothing. His rough hair, damp from exertion, lay under her chin, and below that she could see the sturdy curve of his cheekbone, and the scatter of lashes, so unlike the thick, silky sweep of his son’s; and the severe nose with its curling, fastidious nostril which was yet another part of his chaotic heritage.
After a long while, he said, ‘Of course not,’ and after another short space: ‘I couldn’t do this without you.’
She said, ‘You can. You have done.’
‘But not by way of laughter,’ he said. ‘He let himself enjoy that. He can’t be my son, but perhaps he could be …’
‘What?’ She was very gentle.
‘It doesn’t matter. A friend. Gelis? I love you in so many ways.’
‘I know. Lie quiet,’ she said.
HE TOOK HIS other son, without Gelis, to see his wee Aunty Bel.
Now Jodi did not have to be lifted to rap on the front door, and he took off his cap without being prompted as he entered the parlour of the St Pol house over the road.
His wee Aunty Bel looked much the same: short and plump inside a lot of wide cloth, with her face like a loaf set to rise, and her hair all bundled into white napkins. She held out her hand, and kissed his cheek when he came over, and then sat with her arm still about him, looking up at his father. She smelled tasty, like fruit cooked in sugar. He turned his head to sniff her neck better. His father came to her other side, and when she lifted her face, bent quickly and kissed it, almost as he kissed Jodi’s mother. Aunty Bel said, ‘Well, well. So ye’ve got yourself sorted out at long last. Go and sit there, and here’s a stool for your big son.’
‘Captain Cuthbert has a hackbut,’ said Jodi, taking his seat.
‘You remember the hackbut!’ said his aunty. ‘And what else does Captain Cuthbert have? Have you tried the crossbow yet, now?’
He had. They had an interesting discussion about weapons, and hunting, and dogs. The question of dinner came up. Aunty Bel thought, for some reason, that his father must be hungry these days, and she was proposing a little something to eat. ‘So, Jodi—’
Jodi said, ‘When I’m at home, I usually eat with everyone else.’ He looked at his father.
His aunt said, ‘Well, of course you do. But since it’s so clement, I thought we might have our wee bite in the garden, and Isa’s bad with her legs, and could do with a hand with the dishes. Can ye set up a table?’
Jodi jumped up. He remembered Isa, and something to do with marchpane, but the desire for information came first. ‘How is she bad with her legs?’
‘You ask her. We’ll be there in a minute. I only want to ask your da here about poor Sir Anselm. Ye ken he’s got a wee baby?’
‘It’s a girl,’ Jodi said.
‘Do ye like lassies?’ said Aunty Bel. ‘Well, there’s a surprise. Tell Isa I sent you.’
When the door closed, she turned to his father. ‘A manful wee laddie. Well-grown, well-mannered and happy by nature, I’d say. He’s a credit to both of ye, Nicholas.’ Her smile grew. ‘Ye ken Henry’s taken a keek at him on the quiet? Came back fair cackling because wee cousin Jodi had grown up the image of his common big father de Fleury.’
‘I expect he said Claes,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Jordan has gone home? Why?’
Bel looked surprised. ‘I thought it was something you said.