Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [12]
Julius said, “Felix, the Bishop was angry. He’s the Scottish king’s cousin. The Scottish queen is Duke Philip’s niece. The Scottish king’s sister is married to Wolfaert van Borselen. Something has to be done to convince all these people that the offence was an accident.”
Claes smiled at Felix over his shoulder. “So someone’s got to be punished. You see? If it wasn’t an accident, they wouldn’t dare punish anybody.”
Claes, for whom no tangled issues ever existed, often depressed Julius, particularly when he knew what he meant. Felix was merely incensed. “That’s crazy,” said Felix. “They’ll punish us? For doing nothing?”
“They punished me,” said Claes the apprentice. He turned round cautiously to let them fasten the cloths over his front, and settled crosslegged with his shirt over his shoulders. His hose had dried in folds and wrinkles all over his thighs, and his hair had dried too until it was thick and flat and frizzed a little just at the edges, as if someone had singed it.
“Of course they punished you. You broke that gentleman’s leg,” said Felix with justice. “And you weren’t respectful. And you certainly made a fool of the girl this lord Simon was making up to, and he’s a Scotsman as well. That Katelina. She didn’t want her stupid hat returned once it got into the water, you fool. She could buy twenty others.”
“Your hair’s come out of curl,” said Claes sympathetically. It was not surprising, Julius thought, that Claes got beaten so often. He remembered something important. A girl called Mabelie worked for Jehan Metteneye, and the Metteneyes of Bruges had been innkeepers and brokers for incoming Scottish merchants for five generations.
“The girl Mabelie,” Julius began.
“A great thick plait of hair down to here, brown as a fox. A full mouth of teeth as good as your horse, and cheeks pink as paint and a nose like a plum and a great white neck with muscles in it going down to – down to –”
At the wrong moment comprehension came to Claes, and he stopped before the terminus. “She says the Scots are out for our blood. They needed the gun to make war on England. She says the Duke will blame Bruges, and the Burgomaster will have to protect himself. She wants to meet me under the Crane at eleven tomorrow.”
Julius closed his eyes. You would say it was fantasy, if you didn’t know Claes. You would say that even Claes couldn’t receive an invitation through prison bars from a girl he’d never spoken to in his life. On the other hand, when you knew Claes, you knew what his smile did. All the same –
“In two pieces?” said Julius. “With your face blue and your tongue hanging out? Or are they going to arrest all the lightermen and let you and me and Felix walk home to the dyeshop tomorrow?”
“That’s what I meant to tell you,” said Claes. “If you hadn’t jabbed at my back. I couldn’t think while you jabbed at my back. All the boys from the shop were there outside the prison.”
“You told us that,” said Felix.
“Yes. Well, all the Dyers’ Guild members came there as well, and the dean and the chaplain. They said they’d sent to the écoutète and the échevins and the counsellors and the deputy controller and of course Meester Anselm with a very big complaint and talk of outrage and even talk of ceasing to do trade with Scotland, and all the officials had put together their heads and agreed that, provided we satisfied Meester Anselm of our innocence, there would be no further action apart from a significant fine from the Charetty family –”
“Oh,” said Felix.
“– which the Dyers’ Guild and the Lightermen’s Guild would each assist them to pay. They’re letting us out in the morning. Under the Crane at eleven, she said.”
Meester Julius stared at the family apprentice. “You knew that when you came in.”
Claes gave his generous smile.
“And,” said Julius, “the bailiff knew that, and probably the gaoler and both the turnkeys who took all my money.” He could feel