Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [289]
‘I don’t believe it,’ said Henry; but beneath the scathing tone, there lay something more natural.
‘We got soaked,’ Jordan said. ‘It’s stupid really, for fully grown men.’ His two wayward dimples contradicted him.
‘It sounds it,’ said Henry. ‘Did you catch anything?’
‘We won!’ Jordan said. ‘We brought these two geese from home …’
‘We got another one,’ said Nicholas in an apologetic aside. Something told him that Henry had been treated to a graphic account of Simon standing in mid-street wringing the neck of a goose. Henry was biting his lip.
‘And they both hooked a fish?’ Henry said. He could still manage a drawl.
‘They hooked each other,’ said Jordan. ‘But no one else hooked anything, so we won. They weren’t hurt. It’s really funny. Of course, it’s silly as well. You should come with us next time and see.’ He caught Henry’s eye.
‘You’d have to lend me a goose,’ Henry said. His sole dimple appeared, and was banished.
That was all. A crowd suddenly arrived to collect them, and Henry walked off.
At home, Jordan tried to explain to his father. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, but he doesn’t know that I heard him at Malloch. Unhappy people are cruel and tell lies. You never see Henry with friends.’
‘He probably kills and eats them,’ said Nicholas encouragingly. ‘All right. I know what you mean, and it’s kind. Keep trying. But don’t forget: unhappy people aren’t always consistent. Don’t get hurt.’
IN KILMIRREN HOUSE, an unwise friend mentioned the occasion to Simon, who later carried the news to his father. ‘He’s called the ship Jordan!’
‘There is no law against it, so far as I know,’ observed his father. ‘But you say Henry was there?’
‘Talking to de Fleury and the boy. Someone saw them. He said nothing to me.’
Jordan de St Pol eased his weight in the chair, and the chair emitted a groan. ‘I sometimes think,’ said the lord of Kilmirren, ‘that your technique with that youth could be improved upon. He should be married by now.’
Henry’s bachelorhood was becoming a nuisance. St Pol had spoken to three families, who had expressed guarded interest. Henry displayed no enthusiasm for marriage, but a great deal in the maidens under discussion, who reciprocated with zeal, to the distress of their parents. The best method with someone of Henry’s looks was to sign the parents up first, and tell him about it later on. Then he could do with the girl as he pleased.
Chapter 37
Off archerye the rewll allhaile thai beir.
The men with men fechtis apone fute,
And the women with strang bowes thai schut.
IN TIME OF war, every winter is precious. It is the close season; the time when men return home to their families, and celebrate Christmas, even in scarcity, with glad hearts. It is a time for acts of liberality.
Anselm Adorne took his little deaf daughter Euphemia from her convent at Haddington and travelled with her to Stirling to visit the old lady, Bel of Cuthilgurdy, who had made the opposite journey so often to teach, in the way she had learned from the deaf Scottish Princess Joanna. With him he also took Mistress Clémence, the splendid Frenchwoman who had been married to Dr Tobie from his house, and who had nursed Jordan de Fleury from babyhood.
It was an unusual thing for him to do, and Mistress Bel bided her time, entertaining the child and making Lord Cortachy welcome, before Clémence, whom she knew very well, offered to take the child, well wrapped up, to run and slide in the meadows.
The child was very like Phemie, with her direct gaze and abundance of energy; and constant care had given her a confidence denied to most of her kind. A child of many mothers, she was happy with Clémence, as Jordan had been.
‘Jordan was lucky,’ Lord Cortachy