Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [27]
Nicholas said, ‘I shall fetch them myself. Perhaps the master might have the honour of seating your lordship in his cabin?’
There was an eddy behind him. A young voice cried, ‘The ship stinks! Don’t do it, Sandy. They’ll give you cheap wine while they’re falsifying the scales. Who’s this?’
It was John, Earl of Mar, Albany’s brother. Standing offensively close, he peered upwards, examining Nicholas. The youth had a short, Flemish nose, a red-bristled jaw and a rash. He said, ‘Oh, my mistake, brother. It’s the tame ox you used to think charming. Do go. I’ll help burn your clothes after.’
He turned, grinning, to Albany, whose hand was clenched on the rail of the gangway. To one side, Wodman had reappeared with a sign. Beside him was the Keeper of the King’s own lodgings and arsenal in Leith. Nicholas turned his head back to Albany. ‘My lord of Mar is quite right: the ship is not fit. May I bring the goods to the Wark?’
‘No. I don’t want them,’ Albany said. He stepped back, snatching his hand away quickly as his brother unexpectedly sprang up the same gangplank and whirled to bend his bright eyes on all the curious faces below him. The younger man laughed.
‘Maybe not,’ said John of Mar fondly. He surveyed the crowd. His manner, blithely adjusted, recalled that of a moneychanger about to announce a new rate. He addressed them all, raising his voice. ‘But don’t you know, men, that this is the first ship out of Bruges since the Duke died? Come and see what it’s brought! You can name your own price, or none! No one’s going to complain—there’s no one to complain to. Come and take what you want!’
The crowd stared. There began an undertow of movement and comment, developing fast into something like a commotion. From its midst, several voices shouted a query. ‘For certain sure, the Duke of Burgundy’s dead?’ Windows opened. On the river, men hopped from boat to rocking boat to land where they could listen.
The youth turned. ‘Didn’t you know? You’ll never get rich if you never take chances. What’s that load on the wharf?’ He jumped down and, striding across, thrust his sword through a cluster of bales. Several collapsed, spewing white sparkling powder. ‘Alum! Who wants some cheap alum?’
‘Anyone who wants to be excommunicated,’ said Nicholas, using his full speaking voice for the first time. He stepped up beside Albany and turned. ‘All those goods belong to the Pope. Look at the seal. Ask the Papal Legate. And the consignment over there belongs to me.’
‘This paltry parcel?’ said Mar and, jabbing, tossed it in the air. Then he coughed.
He coughed quite a lot, between sneezes, his eyes closing. The circle round him retreated, and someone started to laugh. Mar snatched at his sword, and abandoned it to search with one hand for a house-wall. His head jerked and his upper lip glistened. The contents of the sack, following the wind, pursued and enfolded him, and the ensuing explosions brought to mind a measured attack by good hackbutters. Albany was looking at Nicholas.
Nicholas said, ‘I’m sorry. Your pepper.’ He was smiling a little. Somewhere, he could hear a distant command, and the sound of trampling feet, coming from the arsenal of the Wark. The crowd, already upwind, began discreetly to melt.
Albany said, ‘No. It is for me to apologise. That was supposed to be a secret. The Duke of Burgundy’s death.’
Below, solicitous men had surrounded Mar and were guiding him to the Wark. By the time he had recovered, the cargo would be secure. Nicholas said, ‘Some fool always upsets the market. It will correct itself. Shall I find the rest of your goods?’ He had dropped the extreme formality, but not the courtesy due to a prince.
Albany said, ‘You can’t be surprised. I meet a thousand people a day.’ He was not talking of Mar.
Nicholas said, ‘I should have been more surprised had you remembered me. I probably shan’t stay very long. You may have heard,