Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [132]
By then, Robin had recovered his interest in business, and spent some time across the road, if not quite as much as before, and without the same over-intensity. Adorne had given some money towards equipping a set of butts and a practice-ground at Greenside, beyond the hill on the way down to Leith, and a small club had formed, which called itself the Society of the Unicorn. Youngsters went there—Jodi and Jamie Boyd often among them—and the masters-at-arms gave their time. It was encouraged. These were the leaders of the future. Even the Royal Guard sent someone down now and then to instruct and encourage. Henry de St Pol went once or twice. But by then he had already come face to face with his cousin Jodi.
It happened at Leith, on a day full of wind-gusts and rain, when Gelis was enjoying herself supervising goods lumbering in and out of the warehouse: a task at which, like Marian de Charetty, she was rather good. Nicholas and Jodi had temporarily boarded the Marie, which had come in with Tom Yare and a cargo, and was about to leave, loaded, for Berwick. Hindering Gelis were a number of friends, such as Leithie Preston and Tam Cochrane and Alec Brown and Mick Crackbene’s jolly wife Ada, in whom the constant attentions of Mick and the birth of eight children, five of them Mick’s, had engendered a voluptuous increase in bulk, all of it bountifully inviting. Gazing, periodically, at Mick Crackbene and his springing step and solid, satisfied vigour, Gelis was gratified to be reminded, quite often, of Nicholas.
The dulcet voice of Henry de St Pol, insinuating itself through the hubbub, was therefore something of a shock. Gelis abandoned the sledge she was supervising, broke off a raging argument with Tam and Leithie and swung round to locate the speaker, who stood in the doorway. As ever, a small silence fell, in tribute to Henry’s hair, his eyes, his smile and his stance of heart-breaking, insolent grace. ‘Lang Bessie?’ he said. ‘My darling aunt, did I hear you speak in defence of Lang Bessie?’
‘You did,’ said Gelis, recovering. ‘Someone put out the fire under her malt, and she’s raised all her prices.’
‘For beer?’ Henry said. He was looking about.
‘Well, that too,’ Gelis said. ‘Did you want Nicholas?’ It was called taking the bull by the horns. Nicholas had always convinced himself that since Henry, as a boy, had been murderously jealous of Jodi, his two sons were better apart. Cornered, he had agreed that, since they were both in one town, Jodi should at least be prepared for an encounter. Further cornered, he had agreed to speak to him, and had done so. After all, the boys were supposed to be cousins. They were cousins, born to Gelis and her sister. They didn’t know that Henry’s father was not Simon but Nicholas.
Henry said, ‘I’ve just put some fells on the James. I wondered what you were loading for Berecrofts. Won’t Bruges refuse to take goods from Adorne? I thought he was nearly hanged for misappropriating ducal funds.’
Big Tam Cochrane had finished her job on the sledge and was now planted, hands on hips, gazing at Henry. ‘Weel, man, ye maun tell the Duchess of Burgundy. She’s made Lord Cortachy her personal envoy. But then, no one’s free of mistakes. I heard you were thrown out of Veere, but I dare say you’re still hoping to trade there.’
Henry reddened. Gelis said,