Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [65]
‘On which side?’ she said.
‘On the left. The side of the leg he still has.’
‘Is he in pain?’ Kathi said. ‘No, how silly. Of course.’
‘It is getting less. It will go.’
She said, ‘Does he wish that he’d died?’ and was surprised when he laid his hand on hers.
Then he removed it and said, ‘Yes, at first. Then he remembered you, and the children, and us. I think he is grateful, now, that he didn’t. But he needs time.’
And us. She thought how wise Tobie was, in some things. Dear as she was to Robin, and he was to her, they shared their trust and their friendship with others. She said, ‘Is he ready to see me?’
‘For a little,’ Tobie said. ‘Then he must sleep.’
He took her to Robin’s door, but she went in alone.
He lay on a low pallet bed, looking up. Tousled brown hair; deep eyes; wrist- and finger-bones frail on the coverlet; and the young, young face full of calm.
‘Kathi,’ said Robin of Berecrofts. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t walk.’
‘I know,’ she said, and sat carefully down, and slipped her hand into his, which tightened a little. The other was under the cover. She said, ‘If you can’t suffer it, then you needn’t. But we all hope that you’ll try. Will you try?’
‘It’s why I came back,’ he said.
Then she laid her cheek on his, and stayed there, her hands curled at his neck, her weight where nothing could harm him. When she kissed him, he closed his eyes, and did not open them again for a long time.
ON FRIDAY, THE seventh day of March, 1477, an orderly crowd, ranged below the balcony of the sugar-spun Hôtel de Ville of Bruges, heard read out in French and Flemish a solemn undertaking, on behalf of the Duchess and Countess of Flanders, to return to the town all its communal liberties, its commercial monopolies, and its lordship over Sluys and the other towns of the Franc, including superiority over the commune, now the new town of Middleburg. This was followed by a joint announcement by the Deans of the trades, to the effect that their members, having laid down their arms in their guild-houses, were now free to disband. The bells rang, the crowd dispersed, and those who had lost money by neglecting their work over the past few days returned to their workshops and tables, while preserving their privilege to meet, as had become the custom, to further develop their opinions over an ale-pot in their parlours and taverns.
Anselm Adorne ceased for a while to frequent the Poorterslogie at the top of Spangnaerts Street, but took the chance, over several days, to visit his son Maarten’s Carthusian convent, to call upon his daughters similarly immured in Sint-Andries and Steenbrugge; to visit his youngest son Antoon, who was training for the priesthood, and to confirm that his married son Pieter in Ghent was still safe. He knew that his eldest son Jan, in Rome with Cardinal Hugonet, was frustrated as ever, but secure. Elizabeth and Marie had good husbands who would protect them. And of course, first of all, on the very night of the rising, he had gone to comfort Arnaud, of whom he was proud. Arnaud’s wife was of the good blood of the Nieuvenhoves, but frail after the birth of her daughter. It did not look as if she was preparing for another infant just yet.
The rest of his time, Adorne of Cortachy spent in conference with Louis de Gruuthuse and the other officers of the Duchess and of the town. When he could not avoid it, he went home.
In the recesses of her mind, his niece Kathi registered his absence, and understood it, and was grateful for the prayers that she knew had begun, and would continue, wherever her uncle had friends. For the rest, the King of France and his armies might be ruling Bruges from inside the White Bear, for all she knew or cared.
At first, Robin remained at the Hospital and, hour by hour, Tobie taught her how to care for him. While Tobie slept, John le Grant took his place at her side. It was as if he could not keep away; as if, weary as he was, his only relief lay in maintaining the same dogged routine that had kept Robin alive through the long weeks of