Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [149]
The van Borselens wrote. Some news percolated from Jan Adorne in Rome, but not overmuch. The many adult young of the family Adorne had had little to say since the arrival of their father’s small daughter. Even the cherished Arnaud had merely sent a stiff note to announce the birth of his first son Aerendtken. Nicholas, in his new understanding of Anselm Adorne, judged what it had cost him to confess such a thing to his children, and thought them ungenerous.
He himself had found it sufficiently oppressive to send the same news to his former manager Gregorio who, although now happily married with his own son, had once had a fondness for Phemie. He had had to use less discrimination writing to Diniz in Bruges and Moriz in Germany, neither of whom would be over-surprised. Julius, of course, would not only be unsurprised, but avid for details. Nicholas trusted Moriz to keep Julius fully occupied in Cologne, and not where he could rampage about upsetting the delicate balance in Scotland.
Relating now the essence of the journey with Albany, Nicholas had cause to remember just how fragile it was. He was not interrupted by either listener until he mentioned Melrose, upon which Adorne caught him up suddenly. ‘Davie Simpson had been there?’
‘Supposedly on Newbattle business. Of course, it’s the daughter-house. I couldn’t find out why. Alec Brown’s kinsman the Abbot was away, and Alec and both his brothers have this love-hate relationship with Newbattle over the salt-pans and Bathgate. There was also some talk of John of Scougal, the laird, and a law suit.’
‘That wouldn’t be surprising,’ said Adorne. ‘They’re a litigious family. And friendly with your Alec Brown among others.’ Adorne was also friendly with Browns. He had lodged one of them in Bruges, when James had wanted him taught to master the lute. The tasks of a Conservator were multifarious.
‘Fertile ground for our Davie,’ said Nicholas. ‘Andro, both the Browns and the Scougals have sent sons to be Archers in France. Do they know anything about Simpson that we don’t? Do you know anything that we don’t?’
There was the usual silence. Adorne said, ‘Nicholas. For the hundredth time. Simpson did nothing in France that could give us any hold over him. He contrived to leave the Archers when Andro did, in order to share a lucrative post with St Pol. Now that St Pol has turned against him, don’t you think he would have exposed any misdemeanours by now? I sympathise. We know that Simpson is planning something. We shall find out what it is. And meanwhile, there is the Star. It should be there by Christmas, Gelis says. It is at least appropriate.’
‘And Camulio comes when?’
‘The word is,’ Adorne said, ‘that the Reverend Father in God, the new Bishop of Caithness, will return to Scotland in the spring. So Simpson will act between now and then.’
‘Or, most likely, between Twelfth Night and then. Good,’ said Nicholas. ‘I think it is time we finally parted company with Davie Simpson. A public parting. The kind of parting that even the Princesses and Albany will have no qualms about. And then we can begin to bring them all into the fold.’
‘You have Albany now,’ Wodman said. ‘Or most of him.’
‘No one has most of him,’ Nicholas said. ‘Not even Sandy. But losing Simpson will be a beginning.’
QUICK AS THEY were, it was late by the time Nicholas left, and reached his own home. Gelis forgave him.
After she had forgiven him, she stroked him for a long time, causing him to sink into a beneficent calm. He thought, through the haze, that if he could stand it, he might even leave home more often. Then he laughed, and pulled on his shirt, and found them both something to drink, and asked about Avandale and Colquhoun. Then he told her what he had told Adorne. They had somehow settled back into bed, sitting folded together.
‘It was difficult. Inglis was a great help; Alec less so. Alec doesn’t care what happens, so long as he can trade. And I couldn