Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [56]
She said, ‘The Carpenters’ Guild looks after the Ghent Gate, doesn’t it?’ There were fifty-two trade-guilds in Bruges. She knew the Dean of the Carpenters.
Diniz said baldly, ‘No.’ Then remembering whose wife she was, he said, ‘If one man couldn’t help in the Burg, then one woman couldn’t help in a hand-to-hand fight at the Gate. And not even you could change the Dean’s mind in front of his own guild.’
‘I could watch,’ she said. ‘And report, if you’ll tell me where. A servant’s cap, and a cloak and an apron, and I can go where you can’t. If it gets difficult, I have places to go—the van Borselen house in Silver Straete, and Gruuthuse’s own place, and the Hospital of St John—Adorne’s son might even be there. Arnaud.’
‘He will be. It’s one of the chief arsenals,’ Diniz said. ‘I can’t let you. Think of Nicholas.’
‘Do you imagine he is thinking of me?’ Gelis said. ‘He is doing what he has to do. And I am doing the same.’
Clémence said, ‘That is true. Before he went, Nicholas took care for Bruges. It is not to say that, then and now, he does not think of you, as you think of him while you breathe.’ She smiled, and Gelis, remembering Tobie, looked at her with softened eyes, and smiled in return.
To Diniz, she said. ‘Thank you. But whatever you say, I am going. Nicholas would understand.’
IT WAS WORSE, outside, than she had expected, partly because of the gloom. It was hardly midday, but windows glowed orange behind her, and at the top of Spangnaerts Street, every floor of the White Bear was lit, casting flickering light on the congealing mud on the streets. The streets before and behind her were empty, but massed roars ahead, by their compact nature, made her think that the crowd was still in one pack, and had not yet broken through to the Burg. Adorne of Cortachy and Jan Breydel and their firm, loyal crossbowmen must be holding it. The third officer, Gruuthuse’s own son, might also be there. Holding on; trying to make themselves heard; offering to talk over their grievances; restraining their impulse to respond when the first missiles started to come. Gelis sent them a silent message of goodwill.
Her hope was that the Ghent Gate was open, and that the porters would be keeping slack watch. They would stop any horseman from leaving, but a woman on foot might slip out. And a woman with money could pick up a horse of sorts, once outside, and ride to meet her good cousin Louis with an exact report of the situation in Bruges. And then might return, in equal secrecy, with Louis’s orders.
But first, what was the situation in Bruges? She knew where the arsenals were. Walking swiftly and quietly, head down, she turned up towards the Grand’ Place but did not enter it, sliding westwards instead through the deserted egg-market and taking the street that ran past the Princenhof. The great gates were closed, behind which she had feasted with Nicholas on the Duke’s wedding day, and her own. She could see guards, and there were some silent groups in the street, looking up, but no threat of assault, or not yet. She slowed, crossing the street and turning at last to the south, into Silver Straete.
Here was the house rented once and now owned by her family. By her cousins: she had no family now, since her parents and sister were dead. Correction. She had a family she did not deserve, better by far. And as Clémence saw, she was attempting to do what Nicholas would have done, and what Jodi, one day, would hear she had done.
She did not stop there, other than to register that the doors and the shutters were closed. Men who turned against authority might turn against the van Borselens, too. But of necessity, surely, she could shelter there. She walked on.
Ahead lay the Palace of Louis de Gruuthuse, with the church of Nôtre Dame beside it. Within, a bridge of convenience ran from the house to the