Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [208]
Before them leaned part of the altar-piece for the Trinity Church, painted in a haze of alcohol by Hugo vander Goes in his recuperative retreat at Rosenklooster in the forest of Soignes. Before a dazzling organ (recalling a munificent gift of his own), knelt Edward Bonkle, provost of the Collegiate Church of the Holy Trinity, Edinburgh. The Provost’s body was solid. His surplice and amice fell into exquisite lines. His face was, to the life, that of the good-natured father and businessman Canon Bonkle, to whom the King’s Flemish mother had entrusted her church. Mary of Guelders had probably known Bonkle merchants in Bruges all her life, as Claes and his friends had known the Canon’s bastard son John. One of the Canon’s bastard sons, John.
And now this, standing before them: testament to the skills of a magnificent, falling-down-drunk painter, who once raucously vied with them all, turning out coloured escutcheons in the chaotic prelude to the Duke of Burgundy’s wedding: Fourteen puking sols a day for all this!
Sersanders said, ‘Hugo. Oh, Hugo the madman. What can we do for him?’
‘I did ask,’ Nicholas said. ‘He’s really best where he is. He has a brother there too. They relax all the rules and let him out, and people visit him—Colard; Maximilian even. But you know Hugo. There’s always something. He’s not appreciated; he’s never going to finish all his commissions; he can’t get over Elizabeth. Pass the Rhenish. When it all gets too bad, they play music till his head clears again.’
He stopped. He said, ‘He kept talking about the Duke of Burgundy’s wedding, and asking who was Duke of Burgundy now.’
‘You’d better go to your meeting,’ Kathi said. ‘We’ll take care of it.’
WHILE HE HAD been indoors, the autumn light had begun to fade, and the windows of Lang Bessie’s tavern were yellow with lamplight by the time Nicholas ran up the back stairs to Argyll’s rooms. With Colin were Mr Secretary Whitelaw in his smeared glasses, and Will Scheves in plain clerkly black instead of the robes of the Primate. Argyll said, ‘Nicholas. Sit. Drew is with my lord of Buchan. We wish to hear, obviously, all that you were not able to say at the Castle, as soon as the ale has come. You know Henry de St Pol?’
It was not the non-sequitur it seemed. ‘I’m afraid so,’ Nicholas said. ‘Shall I …?’
‘No, no, someone else will bring it,’ said Colin Campbell of Argyll. ‘In fact, we shall not wait. Tell us your opinion of the Duke of Albany, and what is liable to happen in France.’
He presented his report about Albany. It included a résumé of all he could discover about the size and quality of the French and Burgundian armies at present in the field, their length of service, their armaments, and the finance in prospect for their replacement. Among other things, he had spent a lot of time chatting to bored members of the King’s Scottish Archers. And at Aubigny.
To that, as a bonus, he added his opinion of what was liable to happen in countries other than France, and particularly in relation to Rome, Genoa, Rhodes and the aspirations of Turkey. He had verified, before he left France, that the attack on the Knights Hospitaller at Rhodes had reached its height in July and had been resisted. The island was probably safe until the following spring. He did not mention Ludovico da Bologna’s determination to seize his attention over that; or the fact that he had not introduced the subject at the Castle, or indeed on the voyage from France. The Earl of Buchan’s confessor was William Knollys, Preceptor for Scotland of the Order of the Knights of St John. He did not mention, either, the Genoese Prosper de Camulio, absent Bishop of Caithness. He did not need to.
At the end, no one at first said anything; then Argyll removed his contemplative gaze from Nicholas’s face and glanced at Whitelaw. Whitelaw cleared his throat.
‘A good submission, sir. We are grateful. We shall assimilate it, and return to you. As to the Duke of Albany: it is evident that King Louis cannot immediately exploit