Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [303]
He had never met Gloucester, but was prepared for the black hair, the jagged profile, the uneven shoulders. His voice was charming and so were his clothes: a soft brocade robe over a fine shirt, doublet and hose. There was a brooch in his hat. Sandy, seated on the same level, had the look of a man who has put on a lot of weight and lost it again. His auburn hair was elaborately shaped, but he had cut himself shaving. His pale, steady stare was defiant.
The room was handsome, and obviously used as an audience chamber. Against the walls there stood several servants: a chamberlain, a page, a man-at-arms. Closest to the chair of state waited a tall man wearing an expensive light robe over armour: Harry Percy, Earl and sheriff of Northumberland, and Dickon’s partner in the north. Earl Harry’s father had once burned Dunbar. Earl Harry’s father had been a Lancastrian, in the days when the Lancastrian King had made his kingdom in exile at Bamburgh, and had fought and died for Lancaster at Towton. Then York had prevailed, and the family, after a spell in the wilderness, were back serving York. Or rather serving themselves, as all the great Border families were accustomed to do, on both sides of the frontier. Harry Percy was six years older than Gloucester, and had been the head of his house from the age of fifteen. Once, when Percy cancelled a March meeting, Sandy had been very annoyed.
Dickon Gloucester said, ‘Do we need anything, Harry? No. Then perhaps Hugh will stay. We may call for the rest of you later.’ Hugh was the man-at-arms, who placed himself by the wall. The rest left, except for Earl Harry and Gloucester.
Gloucester said, ‘M. de Fleury, you know who I am. Let me present you to my lord of Northumberland, whom you will well know, by reputation at least. Harry, this is Nicholas de Fleury of Bruges, a merchant dealing in Scotland who fought and nearly sacrificed his life at the side of my sister’s late husband at Nancy. I am only sorry that we meet him at this tragic time when her grace the Duke’s daughter has also perished. You will have heard the news? Please, both of you, sit.’
‘I have, my lord,’ Nicholas said. He made the correct acknowledgements, and sat, as did Percy. He added, ‘I had the honour of meeting the Duchess Marie several times, and my wife was fortunate enough to serve the Princess your sister. All who knew the young Duchess will mourn her. Indeed, it seemed possible that the bereaved husband might plan to renew his war against France, in his distraction. So, again, a single death may upset Europe.’
The Duke’s sad expression did not alter. The Earl said, ‘You mean pernicious rumours cause damage. The Archduke is not going to war.’
‘But if he were,’ said Dickon of Gloucester, ‘would you have wished to join him, M. de Fleury? Had you planned to go back to Bruges?’ He knew Bruges well. So did the Percy family. The Percy family had actually been members, in their time, of the Confraternity of the Dry Tree, of which the greatest recent luminary had been Anselm Adorne.
‘I had often thought of it,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have the goodwill of the Duchess Margaret, as I have said; and of the merchant community. My opportunities in Scotland might seem limited. But there, too, favour has been shown me by many—by his grace at your side, and his sisters. With the right masters, I would have no fear of the future.’ He looked directly at Sandy and smiled. Amazingly, Sandy smiled back. It almost looked natural.
‘You don’t get on with the King?’ Percy said.
‘He is unwell,’ Nicholas said.
‘You mean sick? Mortally sick?’
‘The doctors think not. His grace here will have described his affliction. It makes for uneven behaviour, which deprives him of friends.’
Gloucester glanced at Sandy and turned back to Nicholas. ‘You are saying that, put to the test, the people of Scotland would prefer someone in full health as their king, capable of making firm judgements, and without the perpetual need for elderly, perhaps senile advisers? And if that is so,