Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [144]
Gelis was going to Dunglass, the stronghold of the barony of Colquhoun, two miles short of Dumbarton, in order to talk about cargoes. The Chancellor was to stay overnight also. She had promised Nicholas not to leave the right bank; not to go near either Simpson or St Pol, even if she came across a heap of dead horses. It was hardly her fault, therefore, that when she arrived obediently with the Chancellor on the rocky mount of Dunglass, the first face she perceived was that of Henry’s fat grandfather Jordan, standing beside Sir John Colquhoun.
‘Ah! My dear Gelis. Formidable as ever,’ he said. And, turning to his host: ‘My son’s sister by marriage. We last met in Trèves, when the Duke was alive. How strange to think that all that then seemed so hopeless has now come to pass! The Duke’s daughter wed to the son of the Holy Roman Emperor, and with a son of her own. Your own marriage to your Flemish swain refreshed and renewed. Your son Jordan and my grandson his cousin merry shipmates, so they say. Only Julius, your lawyer, has suffered a sad loss, I heard. His lovely wife took her life in a fit?’
‘She is buried in Ghent. We are indebted to my lord of Gruuthuse for his care for her,’ Gelis said. ‘And you, my lord? What good fortune have you had since you came home?’
‘Why, none,’ he said, ‘that compares with the joy of this present encounter. But you, perhaps, are less happy, demoiselle. You hoped for a private talk with Sir John? Perhaps I should offer to leave? Although I have been most hospitably invited to supper.’
Colquhoun said, ‘I am sure we all hope you will stay. Our business will not take long, and my lady will be happy to entertain you until we are free. If you do not mind?’ He was a capable gentleman, Sir John Colquhoun of Luss, as well as being a man with a trading ship, and a house in Berwick-upon-Tweed, and all the connections you would expect of a former sheriff of Dumbarton who had once held the post of Household Controller and was still a trusted officer of the King’s. Whose wife was Elizabeth Dunbar, widow of the forfeited Archibald Douglas, Earl of Moray, and first cousin of Adorne’s adored Phemie. And whose niece by marriage was the wife of Oliver Sinclair.
Gelis had come to talk to him, and to his lordship of Darnley, principally on the subject of salmon, and fully expected the Chancellor to be present. Darnley and Avandale had worked together to prop up the throne since the King’s father was a young man, and all three had interests on the western seas: imports of the best wine (such as that directed to Hob of Berecrofts) came through Kirkcudbright or Irvine or Dumbarton. But the east coast led straight to the big buyers, and it was equally natural, given the Dunbar and Moray and Sinclair connections, that Colquhoun of Luss should have joined his kinsmen and friends in northern ventures in salmon and barley and timber. The Cochranes, canvassed, had put forward Tam, inconsequentially amassing wages in Nairn, to support at least one promising venture, and others had joined, like Ross of Kilravock and the Cumming brothers, who were intermarried with one of Leithie’s innumerable Prestons. Finally, of course, they all needed agents, and shipping-space, and Gelis had those. Although, of course, Colquhoun and Darnley were no strangers to French ships and shipmasters, and knew several who owed them a favour. On the quiet, Gelis had a word about that.
It ended. Men rose, and the chat became general. Bringing her wine, Colquhoun asked if she would object if his wife joined them, with Jordan de St Pol. Avandale intervened.
‘Johnny, the family is not well regarded. I gather the gentleman invited himself. Your lady has shown him great kindness, but I think the demoiselle here might be excused.’
‘Why,’ said Gelis, ‘I am pleased to have had this meeting in private, but there is no reason now to keep us apart. The two families are not close, but they are not enemies.’
‘Really?’ said Avandale. ‘I know your husband hoped to achieve as much, but I heard he had failed. Some business