Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [153]
Claes had picked up a lot about the Dauphin from his many sources, but it was the Widow, in the end, who had helped him most. That was when, finally, she had pinned him down and asked him why he was going, and he had told her.
“Messengers are always a danger. We all know too much. And suddenly, not only the Dauphin’s own man Gaston du Lyon but the Medici and Sforza are using me. It’s only commonsense to try to make out why. And whom I see. And what I know.”
It had been a shock to her. He had realised why, after a moment, and added quickly, “But Felix, of course, doesn’t know he’s giving away more than he should. I’m sure of it. But if we warn him, and make him stop going to Genappe, they’ll think there’s something to hide.’
“So why are you going then?” she had said.
“Not because he’s in danger. Only to display that I know what is happening. I haven’t asked to see the Dauphin. Just to take Felix to visit Raymond, the chamberlain’s brother. It will make the point. If the Dauphin wants to see us, he’ll say so.”
“And if he wants to see you, Nicholas?” had said the Widow. “Once before, I asked you about him. You said, I think, that he was far too astute, and you’d never expect to deceive him.”
When she called him Nicholas, it was because she was either angry or frightened. He remembered the occasion of his previous answer. She had been both, and so had he. He forgot to answer, remembering.
“So,” she had said. “You will have to decide, won’t you? Claes or Nicholas? Which will you show to the Dauphin?”
Being only one person and not a carnival freak, he had started to laugh. In any case, there was no doubt that, whatever happened, he was going to be thoroughly tested, and at a new level. He had felt gratified, until he realised that this was primary proof of his inexperience. Now the visit to Genappe was upon him. Now he listened to Felix saying to him, yet again, as they rode: “And you kneel three times. Going in, going out. For God’s sake remember, and don’t make a fool of me.” And he began to laugh again, because he probably wouldn’t remember. Poor Felix. Poor Claes. Good luck, Nicholas.
Chapter 23
IT WAS SHORTLY after this that Claes realised that the impeccable escort sent to fetch himself and Felix had led them well away from the road to Genappe. That they were making their way over fields and through a copse to where, just over a rise of new grass, there came the sound of many voices, and hoofbeats, and the barking of excited dogs. A horn brayed.
Below Felix’s towering hat his face, turned to Claes, was ruddy with pleasure. “My lord Dauphin’s huntsman!” he said. “It must be. No one else can hunt here. Now you’ll see. Jet black horses. He’ll have nothing else. And the hounds. He has a new pair …”
“Monsieur is correct,” said the captain of their escort. He had not spoken for an hour, and Claes looked at him with amazement. The captain continued to communicate with Felix. “It is for this very reason that my lord Dauphin requested you should be brought by this route. It will not displease you to hunt?”
Claes looked at the violet flounces, the quilted skirt with its marten-edge, the tasselled cone on Felix’s head that would shear the lower branch off a pine tree. Felix cried, “My dear captain, I’m honoured!”
The captain smiled. The captain kicked his horse from a trot to a canter. So did Felix. So did all the rest of the troop except Claes, who fell off. The captain and Felix,