Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [63]
Gelis said, ‘It shouldn’t be long.’ She added, ‘Kathi is waiting with Arnaud quite close, in the Hospital of St John. We’d only just heard you were all coming. Then we were afraid you might be involved with the fighting. But Louis will do something, I know.’
John said, ‘I thought you would be in Scotland.’ It seemed to be beyond him to say what had to be said.
Then she saw what he was in fact saying. She said, ‘Nicholas is in Scotland, intent on behaving like the Mastiff of Brittany, as usual. I shall take Jodi there later. Kathi might join us one day, with her children. The Berecroftses would want her.’
She saw that somehow, at last, she had helped him. John said, ‘He is still alive. He’s in there,’ and nodded towards a dark wagon. ‘Tobie is with him.’
She climbed in gently, Diniz behind her. A brazier glimmered, softening the cold. Far at the back, the shape under the quilt on the makeshift mattress of straw was still and silent, and the face of the man lying there was invisible. Nearer at hand, the doctor lay on his back in deep slumber, his hat askew on his pale, balding head; his creased cloak and rucked doublet and jacket far from the standards expected by Clémence. Diniz said, ‘He’s all right as well. They’ve only got to get through these gates … They can’t stay here all night.’ His face was wet.
Tobie opened his eyes.
Kestrel’s eyes, pale round the dot of the pupil. There is a problem. I am assessing it. He looked exhausted. Gelis said, ‘We’re outside Bruges, waiting to clear the Gate and get in. Diniz and I came out to see you.’
Tobie sat up. ‘You’ve seen John, then.’ They were speaking in whispers.
Diniz said, ‘He told us Robin was here. That is all.’
‘That’s all right then,’ Tobie said. ‘He’s sleeping. What’s happening?’
Diniz looked at him and at Gelis. ‘I’ll find out,’ he said, and took the horse and rode off. The cohort ahead hadn’t either moved or dismounted. Sitting in the wagon by Tobie, Gelis watched Diniz ride its full length and vanish. Tobie didn’t speak and, being at a loss what to do, she was silent. Then suddenly there was movement ahead, but not what she expected: one of Louis’s captains, with Diniz, riding quickly towards them. They stopped at each of the wagons, ending with hers. Diniz looked different. He said, ‘It’s over.’
It was over because Louis de Gruuthuse, out of hearing and sight of his troops, had ridden alone to the Ghent Gate of Bruges, a torch in his hand, so that they might see without doubt who and what he was. And there, when the shouting had died, he had told them that they could have what they wanted, and that, if they came to the Hôtel de Ville in a day, they would hear read out the Duchess’s promise that the rights of the Franc of Bruges, as the Fourth Member for Flanders, would be suppressed.
He was surprised (he said) that they had put Lord Cortachy and the good Master Breydel and his son to such trouble, for between friends, it was only necessary to talk. And, especially, he had hoped to find a welcome this day, when he had come expressly from Ghent to escort men who deserved better from Bruges than to be held up in the cold and the dark while some petty matter of money was settled.
He asked the burghers of Bruges to open wide (he said) the gates of their town to the heroes of the town. The wagons, toilsomely come the long journey from Nancy, which contained the men who had fought for the Duke, and had suffered for it. Those who had given not merely money but their liberty and their health that the states of Burgundy should remain proud and free. ‘Will you welcome them?’ said Louis de Gruuthuse. ‘Will you open your gates, and let them see that they have not fought in vain?’
Ahead of Gelis, the wagons were already lurching into motion. The horsemen remounted, John and Tobie in silence among them. Those who could sat up in their carts, their cloaks wrapped about them, and peered out as they rocked past the troops and made for the stretch of white road that led to the bridge and the great Gate of