Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [199]
So now there were no nightly feasts on the lagoon, or music, or dancing, or archery contests with one’s clients, and packed baskets of fine wines and dates in comfits and veal-garnished cygnets. There was German food and German beer, and a modest, uninteresting business with Father Moriz and that assiduous man Govaerts, lent by the Charetty to help him run it.
When he heard Nicholas was coming from Scotland, Julius said at once, ‘Good. I’m going to join him.’
‘Well, it’s an idea,’ Father Moriz had said. Father Moriz was a short, bow-legged, truculent metallurgy expert who had worked with Nicholas and John in the Tyrol and Scotland. He was German, and didn’t mind terrible food. ‘It’s an idea. Certainly we should discuss it. And consider who would then run the business, and look after the interests of Bonne.’
That was Moriz. No sense of humour, and a fanatic about piddling details. Julius said, ‘All right. We can talk about it. But I’m going to ask Diniz to send Nicholas, anyway.’
PICKING HIS WAY through the streets of Cologne, Nicholas had no trouble in finding Julius’s office and warehouse, smaller than the one in which Gelis had stayed in the affluent days, but still close to the river. It felt strange to be here, after Nancy.
Julius and Govaerts were at home, but not Father Moriz. Nicholas had a strong feeling that Julius wasn’t going to send out to find Moriz, or at least not immediately. As soon as Govaerts showed him in, grinning, Julius had remarked, ‘Ah, Nicholas. Come to visit the poor?’
He was smiling, too; but there was a snap to it that you might have thought unwise, in Julius’s position. Whether about to ask a favour or not, what was in Julius’s mind at the moment was the fact that Nicholas was enjoying friends, esteem, security and a rejuvenated marriage in Scotland while he was not. Nicholas extended his fingers and fondled one of Julius’s buttons. ‘You don’t seem to be doing so badly.’
‘It’s old. I haven’t had to sell off my clothes, or not yet. Will you have some wine? We can still afford wine,’ Julius said. He was recovering.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ Govaerts said. ‘The business is doing very nicely, Ser Nicholas. And are you well? It’s a pleasure to see you.’
He looked the same. Govaerts had been a good manager in Scotland, and was being a good manager here, which was not so far, after all, from his home in Brussels. Julius looked fit, and his smooth, symmetrical face with its slanting eyes and Roman nose were burned by the sun, as if he had been out of doors a great deal. The last time they had met had been in Ghent, in the violence that attended the unmasking and death of Adelina. Julius must have been glad of a respite after that. But more than two years had elapsed since then, and he was announcing now his intention of returning to Scotland with Nicholas.
‘Just when your business is doing so well?’ Nicholas said sarcastically. He could tell what Govaerts thought by his face.
So could Julius. Julius said, ‘I could sell it. Or Govaerts could run it. Everyone trusts him. He wouldn’t mind.’
‘And Father Moriz?’ Nicholas said. ‘He was supposed to be in Cologne to help you. So was Govaerts.’
‘Well, they could help each other,’ Julius said. ‘Or, as I said, I could sell it.’
‘Well, why not,’ Nicholas said. ‘Let’s talk about it when Moriz comes in. You couldn’t return with me anyway. I’m leaving for Paris, then Scotland, at once.’
For a moment, he thought that Julius was going to claim that he could settle his affairs, do his packing and leave with him too, but even he had to acknowledge it couldn’t be done. Which would give Nicholas time to see Moriz. When Adelina died, the rest of the Bank had shored up the Cologne business for Julius. He owed money. He couldn’t sell, although he had conveniently forgotten.
Then Julius began to ask about Scotland, and France, and Diniz and Gregorio, and presently fall into recollections of their shared past. There had