Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [115]
“But the Carnival first!” said John Bonkle cheerfully. He was a cheerful lad. He said, “Come on then, Collinet. Who are you taking?” He then, belatedly, turned a deep crimson.
“No, then, Jannekin,” said Felix maliciously. “Much more interesting. Who’s going with you? If it’s Mabelie, you’d better watch out. Claes here gave her a good time. High marks. You might lose her again.”
“Shut up,” said John heatedly. Claes, glanced at hurriedly, proved to be grinning with no visible rancour, although it made beads of blood come out all over his cheek and he had to fish, swearing, for a kerchief. John said, “It’s up to Mabelie what she does. She won’t be with me. You know that’s not what the Carnival’s for.”
“Father got you in the marriage market, has he?” said Felix. That, as everyone knew, was what the Carnival was really for. One of the few times the rich as well as the poor mingled on the streets of Bruges, and danced, and met, informally, with no commitment on either side, young women to whom they had not been introduced.
Oh, there was no mingling of ranks. However well the masks fitted, the nobles were marked out – by their clothes, by their servants in livery. Gentlemen could expect the hospitality of the great houses, which offered music, refreshment and dancing. And any nobleman, dallying in the streets and meeting a lady of quality, could (so the custom ran) show her his name on a scroll and, if she agreed, make her his partner all evening for whatever sport she might choose, except that he was sworn not to speak.
Those were the rules, and they worked well. Couples met in relative freedom and relative decorum, and good contracts often followed. The very young, however, were well-guarded. At thirteen or fourteen, a girl or a boy followed the impulse, and of such stuff were unfortunate marriages made.
Colard Mansion said, “Well, John’s old enough. He ought to be married. So ought you. What’s your mother got planned?”
Felix stared at him. “Do you do what your mother says? I don’t want to be stuck with another woman. Not till I’ve had some freedom. I’m taking Grielkine, what did you think?”
Claes opened his mouth.
“And you’re taking Tilde and Catherine,” said Felix crossly.
“I am?” said Claes. “Who says so?”
“I say so,” said Felix. “I don’t need to do everything my mother says. I wish she’d get married herself.”
“Do you?” said John in surprise. “Who’s she going to the Carnival with?”
“Oudenin, if he has his way,” Felix said. “But of course that’s no good. No. She wants to marry someone rich. Someone with a seigneurie, a bit of property, a title.”
“Someone like Jordan de Ribérac?” said Claes.
“Well yes, he’s rich, isn’t he?” Felix said. “And could keep his rotten son Simon from taking us to law every five minutes.”
Anselm Sersanders said, “That’s nonsense, Felix. If you don’t like your mother running your life, you’re not likely to enjoy handing over all the company to a stepfather. After all, you’re the heir.”
The curls had all come down again round the high cheekbones, and Felix’s eyes were heavy with beer. He said, “Keep me in hounds, keep me in drink, keep me in armour and anyone can have the God-blasted business.”
“Armour?” said Claes.
Felix laughed frothily. “Thought you’d learn to be a soldier under Astorre, didn’t you? Astorre!”
John Bonkle looked from the one to the other. Sersanders, catching Claes’ look of polite puzzlement, undertook to explain. “Since you left, Felix has become an expert in jousting. Haven’t you, Felix? Except that the demoiselle won’t pay for all your equipment – not yet.”
“That’s a detail,” said Felix. “Don’t need equipment to show what a man can do. Not quarter-staffs, eh, Claes? Swords maybe? Or blunt lances, if you can ride. Can you ride?”
“You’ll have to ask Thomas,” said Claes. “He usually carries me part of the way, and then jumps off the horse as soon as it’s running properly on all four legs. Who’s been teaching you jousting?”
Sersanders smiled and said, “If you can coax Felix to tell you that, then you’ll know more than we do. He’s found a master at Louvain. The