Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [62]
‘To tell my cousin that the portcullis is down and there are cannon at the Ghent Gate. They’re expecting him.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said the man. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘I did,’ Gelis said, lowering her knife and awarding him a single, smart blow on the ear. ‘You weren’t listening.’ Then the rumble of hooves became thunder, and a mass of horsemen filled the Ghent road ahead. The banners were the ones she had hoped for, and the blazon was plain now in the torchlight on the sleeves of the two scouts as well. The blazing twin cannons and the motto, Plus est en vous, of Gruuthuse.
It had been a long ride; he must have been tired; but he was an exceptional man, Louis de Bruges, seigneur de Gruuthuse, Count of Winchester, Prince of Steenhuse, first chamberlain and chevalier d’honneur of the Duchess and Countess of Flanders; and the splendour of his plumed helm, his silver cuirass, his velvet housings and jewelled harness was only the outer manifestation of his quality. The conference was swiftly held there, on the spot, that was to determine what was to come, and all the rest—the surprise, the censure, the commiseration—was relegated until later. With his lieutenants about him, he gave his orders, and only finally turned to his cousin. ‘Go behind to the wagons and wait. I am sorry the night is so cold, but it should resolve itself soon, and then you can come in and be comfortable.’
The wagons. It was not just Gruuthuse’s troop they had met, it was both the parties expected that night. Gruuthuse had overtaken the convoy from Nancy.
She did not know that she was weeping, mounted on the shaggy horse behind Diniz as it plodded slowly down from the head of the troop, past the massed ranks of armed men. She did not think of what she had just heard, or consider, just yet, the fate of the town at her back, and all those within it: Adorne and his men; her own child and Tilde’s at the Hof Charetty-Niccolo; Kathi’s children in the Hôtel Jerusalem, separated from the mother who waited with her cousin in the Hospital of St John, among the blood and the shattered glass. And then, yes, Gelis stopped weeping, for this was what Kathi was waiting for.
There were four carts, and perhaps eight men on horseback, dismounted at present, with the reins in their hands, talking in low voices by the roadside. Six were escorts, and two were better dressed: former prisoners well enough to ride. There were two other horses, loosely tied to one of the wagons. The wagons themselves were well made, and quilts and straw and pillows could be seen in the darkness under the hoods, and the muted glow of travelling braziers. Everything possible had been done to make the journey bearable, but of course nothing could help the vibration of the unyielding wheels on the frozen ruts of the road, or prevent the cold air from whining through crannies. There was almost no sound from inside the wagons. Later, Gelis realised that Tobie had been sleeping, exhausted, with his patients slumbering about him. At the time, she saw only John le Grant, grimly awake, silently busying himself in the ultimate wagon, cleaning and setting out handguns. There were only four, and some crossbows. The freed prisoners of Nancy had not expected a fight.
At the sound of the hooves, the engineer set down his rag and looked up, clearly anticipating one of the escort. Then he stayed very quiet, looking at Diniz, and at Gelis seated behind, her hand on his shoulder. Finally he said, ‘Is Kathi with you?’ and lifted his head a little when Gelis shook hers.
It was Diniz who saw what to do: dismounting with Gelis and extending his hand until John took it, stepping heavily down to the road and moving across to the side, where they all three stood, apart from the others. He did not look dirty, or wounded, or starved; simply very much older, with the vigour gone from his hair and lines bitten into his skin. He said, ‘I’m sorry. They say we can’t get into Bruges because of some rising. Ghent is the same. The Duke seems to be doing