Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [54]
This was natural. It was not so long since he had sailed. And now, although it was March and the gales had abated, a wintry cold had returned which, she knew, slowed down cargo handling and the transit of goods. She suffered the unending questions of Jodi, who was not interested in frozen rigging, but who knew that ships could sink, and that the Narrow Sea was full of French and English and Polish and Portuguese pirates. She told him of his father’s friend Paúel Benecke, who was a professional freebooter and would never harm Papa.
She did not tell him that the ship from Scotland, when it came, would not bring his father, but only news of what he was doing. His father had gone to Scotland for his sake and for hers, to deal with the men who had become the stuff of Jodi’s nightmares: the fat man of his own name, who had once had him captured at knife-point; the handsome man known as David, who had caused the death of Raffo, Jodi’s friend.
Nicholas could not be expected to deal with it quickly; until it was safe, she and Jodi had to stay. She had promised. Had she been alone, she would have broken the promise.
As it was, during the day, Jodi experienced no nightmares, being busy with his books or his riding lessons or his exercises with his small bow. Jodi worked hardest of all when Papa was away, so that Papa would not be disappointed when they were together again. Gelis was not envious of the bond between Nicholas and his son, but anxious at times, feeling Jodi too young to bear the passion of love that he felt.
Kathi, observing it, had reassured her. ‘At the moment, it’s all trained on Nicholas, and fortunately Nicholas is a good teacher as well as a parent. He will make sure that Jodi learns to make his own friends.’
‘But if he loses Nicholas first?’ Gelis had said.
And Kathi had said, soberly for her, ‘He will forget. It might be worse, in effect, if Nicholas were to lose him.’
The thought stayed with Gelis, and frightened her, sometimes.
THEN THE REAL trouble started.
It began, one frosty morning, with a change in the quality of noise outside her windows. The Spangnaerts Street house was a big building, office, warehouse, stables and domicile at once, set between the canal at the foot of the street and the merchant club at the top, which in its turn was a dogleg away from the slope of the great market, the Grand’ Place of Bruges. Because the canals conducted sound, upraised voices were audible in several different directions, and very clearly from below her own windows, where groups of men were hurrying uphill. From the Grand’ Place itself, a breathy sound spoke of a sizeable and increasing crowd.
Diniz came in. ‘Trouble. I’m sorry. I’ve called everyone in and barred the doors, and sent a runner to warn the dyeyard. Kathi and the children are safe at the big house, and Adorne spent the night down the road and is up at the Poorterslogie, trying to knock sense into the eminent brethren of the White Bear.’
His olive skin had darkened to red. Ever since Africa, Gelis had owned to an aunt-like tolerance for Diniz, who was half a St Pol, and who loathed the corpulent Jordan, his grandfather. He was a year younger than she was. She said, ‘What are they agitating about this time?’
Diniz said, ‘Oh, the usual. Past ducal injustices. Specifically, the good people of Bruges would like the Franc’s special privileges stopped, because they’re competing too closely with us. If the Duchess does rescind them, of course, the Franchosts will be out there complaining instead.’
The Franc, the Liberty of Bruges, was a collection of neighbouring parishes with inappropriate feudal affiliations and a controversial freedom from tolls. Ostend and Sluys were among them. The Franc was under the direct control, not of Bruges, but of a lieutenant answering to the late Duke. Gelis said, ‘You’ll be all right. Rich merchants