Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [234]
In due course, Alexander Leigh left, with James’s reply, and was replaced almost immediately by Dr Ireland, the envoy of the King of France, with renewed messages of love and friendship, although none from Albany, whose sins were still the subject of continuing process under Scottish law. March storms disrupted trade vessels plying in the Mediterranean, and overturned and sank a ship sailing for Scotland with a cannon from the Duke of the Tyrol.
The letter announcing this brought with it news that commanded real sorrow: Eleanor of the Tyrol, sister of the King’s father, had died. With the letter came a coffer with a familiar blazon which her sister Joanna, weeping, recognised from the days of her girlhood. The contents, gathered during the Duchess’s long, wasting illness, were letters and mementoes for her sisters, her half-brothers, her nieces and nephews. Among the several fine books was one attached to a sealed paper addressed to Isabella d’Asquin, dame d’Échaut et Dombereau: a name no one immediately recognised except Nicholas de Fleury, who kept his grieving to himself, and said nothing.
THE NEWS FROM the Tyrol reached Cologne, mortifying the former Charetty notary Julius, who had planned to visit the Duchess.
‘I don’t see why,’ said his uncompromising German colleague, the dwarf Father Moriz. ‘You can’t afford to do business with the Duke. The alum deal’s finished, and the mining concessions are going to Augsburg. You hardly knew the Duchess. It’s nine years since you came with us to Bozen.’
‘She was in France as a young woman,’ Julius said. ‘I told you. She must have known Jordan de St Pol: he was in France too, advising the King. She could have met Simon. She could even have heard all the rumours about Nicholas’s mother. Sophie de Fleury was still alive then, and Nicholas and Adelina lived with her.’
Adelina had been his wife. As a count’s widow, under the false name of Anna, she had married Julius, telling no one that she was related to Nicholas, or that she bore a grudge against him. Her life had ended in violence, after she had tried to harm both Nicholas and Gelis. It was so rare for Julius to mention her that Father Moriz immediately felt guilty. Nevertheless, he said, ‘You know I don’t agree with all this. If Nicholas doesn’t want to unearth his mother’s secrets, you had better leave them alone. He’s given up all claim to be a St Pol. He is reconciled to having been born out of wedlock.’
Julius had been born out of wedlock, and Moriz had helped him get himself legitimised. Nicholas had refused to submit to the process and, shocked, Julius had hit on the typically generous, typically officious idea of marching out to prove him legitimate. Then he proposed to travel to Scotland, and present Nicholas with his findings.
At first, he had expected to go, proof or not, but had been persuaded to put off the journey. The spring campaigns had begun. Depending on how they fell out, Nicholas might very well be back soon among them, his work in Scotland concluded.
Meanwhile, it made Moriz uneasy, all this zeal on Julius’s part. To revive Nicholas’s claims would also revive the fading St Pol vendetta. There was in addition the question of Henry. Long-standing friend though he was, Julius didn’t know the truth about Henry’s parentage. If he uncovered it now, he would be incapable, Moriz suspected, of concealing it. And one could only imagine how the St Pols would feel about that. Moriz wished that Julius, with all his charm and good looks, would simply find himself a rich pretty wife and forget about it.
The subject recurred,