Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [154]
The sight of Nicholas and Gelis, these days, tended to make most people smile: something they themselves had not as yet noticed. Kathi beamed, and found her greeting being returned by Tobie, which delighted her further. She wished Robin were here. He attended most events, but not those involving dancing, for which he preferred to leave his wife free. Anyway, Willie always came round a day later and played all the music, while Kathi relayed all the gossip, so that he wasn’t really deprived. The rest of the time, he was in the counting-house, blithely contradicting his father or Saunders, or chivvying youngsters at Greenside, or showing Rankin how to hold a bow, something at which Margaret was still his superior. He hardly had room for a social life.
Perceiving the newcomers, the King broke off and walked to his chair of state in front of the chimney-piece, causing the dancing to cease, and the music momentarily to straggle, before herding itself gallantly home. His guests presented themselves at the foot of the dais. The King’s nod to Nicholas was reserved, and the royal gaze narrowed as, rising, Nicholas was immediately engulfed by a slightly drunk Sandy. Nicholas appeared nothing but pleased: Kathi felt for him. As the King greeted Gelis, his freckled skin had flushed slightly, as always.
Kathi turned, and found Johndie Mar swaying beside her.
‘How’s the cripple?’ he said. ‘Envious of your new son, with the two legs and the busy wee pintle? The very spit of his dad, so I’m told. Do I know his dad, by the way?’
Sandy whirled. Nicholas turned, much more slowly. Kathi held his eyes. Then she said, ‘It’s all right.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Sandy said, and taking his brother viciously by the arm, propelled him staggering out of the room. Liddell joined him. The door slammed. Talk died, and then surged, somewhat aimlessly.
Jodi’s voice, rather shrill, made a comment. ‘Hob isn’t like Robin at all. Neither is Rankin.’ He was looking at Nicholas. Kathi swallowed.
Nicholas said, ‘Come on, you’re not supposed to be listening to men’s jokes about pintles. What are they teaching you in this household?’
The grey eyes slowly relaxed, and the mouth. ‘Mine’s bigger than Jamie Boyd’s,’ said the boy. Colquhoun’s wife, moving up with Cristina Preston, heard him and laughed. Gelis, out of earshot, nevertheless turned, glanced at them all, and came steadily over. Before she arrived, the way opened for the King’s sister Mary who, touching her page on the cheek, laid a kindly arm round Kathi’s shoulders. She began to talk, and so did the others. Kathi turned her gaze calmly from Nicholas, who drifted away, taking his son. Unaccountably, the musicians had begun playing again. Nicholas joined Tobie.
Tobie said, ‘Christ, what a court.’ He was as red as his gown. He was staring at Mary’s sister, the red-headed Meg, who was being entertained in a corner by a deferential man with elegant shoulders. Once, Kathi had been maid of honour and good friend to Margaret, before Margaret’s betrothal to the late Duke of Clarence. The possessor of the shoulders, Tobie suddenly realised, was Davie Simpson, Procurator to the Apostolic Collector. He drew a harsh breath.
‘I blame the doctors,’ said Nicholas. ‘And if you make a scene now, I shall personally cut your throat. Come and talk to Whistle Willie. Jodi, I’m sorry: Manoli is glaring at you. Should you be somewhere else?’
Jodi reluctantly left. Tobie said, ‘What are you thinking of? Jodi shouldn’t be here.’
‘Maybe not. But I