Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [215]
‘So, who?’ Gelis said.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Kathi said. ‘But I can probably tell you the day after tomorrow. Everyone becomes indiscreet at a really good funeral.’
‘So!’ said Old Will, limping over. ‘What are you twa young quines talking about? Courting and babies and weddings, I’ll be bound!’
Kathi got up and gave him a kiss. ‘You were listening,’ she said.
CONSIDERING, OR EVEN because of the weather, it was an exceptionally good funeral, in that the less flexible landowners and bishops and business-men stayed away, preferring to pay their respects at a requiem Mass in a more accessible setting. For the Crown, Hearty James came with a brother, and Drew Avandale and Colin Campbell were there, with their servants, as well as most of the Hamilton neighbours: Semple and Haldane and Darnley; the Abbot of Paisley and Humphrey Colquhoun and his mother, glaring alternately at each other and everyone else. There were one or two others with houses in Berwick, such as Tom Yare and his fellow Edinburgh burgess, Wattie Bertram. John Doby from the College in Glasgow, which owed its first real building to Hamilton. David, Earl of Crawford, who had married one of Hamilton’s two daughters by his first wife. Preceptor Knollys of the Order of St John, which owned land in every baron’s domain. And, late and together, Tam Cochrane the (rich) mason, with old Bishop Spens of Aberdeen, his rosy face purple with cold. Knollys immediately crossed and bent solicitously over him.
It reminded Kathi how much she liked funerals, provided the departed was old, and had led a full life, and had not been particularly well liked. Attaching herself, as was only seemly, to the lady Margaret her former royal mistress, she watched with approval as the Baron Cortachy and the sire de Fleury and his lady wife deployed their social skills among the gathering about to issue to Mass. There was no one there with quite the authority of Anselm Adorne: elegant, courteous, moving from group to group with his observant eye and quiet greetings. And few people there who drew the eye as Nicholas did, with his height, the quality of his voice, and the impression of hardly repressed energy that he did not seem to know he possessed. It was instructive, if you knew what he was doing, to see just which people he spoke to, and for how long. And the same was true of Gelis, who chose her own path, and for whom circles opened in welcome. She had won esteem enough for her name and her looks, but nowadays there was more. Men admired her for her ability. They were also right to admire her as a beauty. Physical love had done that.
The music was good, but should have been better: Whistle Willie was stranded up north. It became very hot because of the candles, and then intermittently very cold, as the doors opened to admit some late-comer and an icy draught swept down the nave. Afterwards, breakfast had been arranged in various Hamilton properties, with the sole inn at the Netherton pressed into use for the overflow. With the family, Kathi was returning to Hamilton Keep, closer than Cadzow.
The service ended. The coffin passed, with its procession forming behind. The doors opened on a livid sky and deep, trampled snow. Standing by the doors, just where they had entered, stood the massive cloaked form of Jordan de St Pol of Kilmirren and, beside him, Henry his grandson, disdainful and fair in royal livery.
Kathi said softly, ‘Nicholas.’
Beside her, he had already turned back. ‘I see them,