Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [152]
The whole thing, Felix suddenly saw, was pretty stupid. And funny. He began to emerge from his sulks. He groaned, and Claes looked up at once, grinning. Claes said, “Did you think you would get away with claiming that stupid helmet had been loaned by Guildolf de Gruuthuse? If it had been his, you’d have broken out in boils by now anyway. Come on. There’s no escape. You always were a hopeless liar.”
Felix said, “Does Mother …?”
“Of course your mother knows you’ve been up to something,” said Claes. “So does half Bruges. The theory is that the Dauphin came here hunting and you met him, and talked hounds, and he took to you. You’ve been to Genappe, and he asked one of his masters at arms to teach you a little jousting. Then someone lent you some arms that didn’t fit them. Why should you have to keep quiet about that?”
“They gave me the armour,” said Felix. “As a little present. I knew she wouldn’t let me keep it. Bad for business. The clients would think the Charetty were plotting with the Dauphin. That’s what they say, you know. Every country that hates France has agents at Genappe plotting with the Dauphin. So that he can get all his lands back from his father. So that he’ll give them favours when he’s king of France after his father dies.”
“You mean you’re not plotting with the Dauphin?” said Claes. “That’s disappointing. I thought I could join you and get a jousting set too.”
Felix burst into laughter. “I don’t think you’ve quite the style,” he said. “But you know, I’ve thought of something.”
“What?” said Claes.
“The next deal you do, give me the profit instead of Mother, and I’ll buy the armour. Then I won’t owe anyone anything.”
“That’s perfectly true,” said Claes. “And then your mother can sell your armour and she’ll get her profit.”
“Well, hardly,” said Felix.
“Then we’ll think of something else,” said Claes cheerfully. “Later. Come on. Let’s go to Genappe, if we’re going.”
Better than the windswept flats of Bruges, the sweet rolling country round Louvain was known to both Felix and his servant. Now, in early spring, every turn in the path was a delight and, for Felix, a promise. The awkwardness of Claes’ presence was forgotten. Felix was a man of stature, invited by princes.
Claes, well accustomed to Felix’s ways, watched him engage in conversation one by one the members of the Dauphin’s escort who replied politely. None of them quite matched the heir to the Charetty dyeshop in the costliness or high fashion of his apparel. Claes, who had been trying not to look at it in detail, had an impression of furred hems and violet flouncing. Felix certainly had on a very tall hat.
Claes hoped Felix would enjoy the journey, for he was not at all sure what awaited them both at Genappe. Until now, the Dauphin had used Arnolfini as his intermediary. A meeting like this – if it took place – would forge a direct link between Genappe and Milan. If it took place, what would it be like? Princes were not within Claes’ experience. The Count of Urbino, last winter, was the greatest noble he had ever met, and their encounters had been brief, and on the exercise field: not a meeting of minds. The minds he was used to, apart from his fellow workers and Felix and his friends, were people like Julius and the Widow. Speaking with Anselm Adorne demanded a little more caution. And also the Greeks: Acciajuoli and the woman, Laudomia. The professor had been something new, but only briefly: his mind fell into patterns. That of Tobie, less so.
Noblemen … That was only troublesome because of the difference in custom, which could disguise, at the beginning, how they were going to tackle you. It was certainly true of Jordan de Ribérac who was, one supposed, with proper irony, the highest ranking of the men he had had to do with, apart from Urbino.
Now a king’s son. A king’s son who made a point, Marian de Charetty had said, of appearing shabby, comradely, even vulgar, and who was ostentatiously religious. But