Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [165]
“Yes, I can see it,” she said. “And I agree. And anyway, we will never be private together again. But we are here now, for the last time, and we can bring relief to each other. Please come. Please come here. Please comeback.”
He couldn’t deny her, she thought, any more than he could deny his present want of her.
Instead, bending abruptly, he extinguished the light which betrayed it. Then, as if hunger didn’t exist, he dressed in the dark and went to the door. From there, he said only, “Goodbye. Goodbye, demoiselle.”
Chapter 25
THE FOLLOWING day, for the first time in his life, Claes lost his temper in public. Riding from Ghent to Bruges, it was necessary to prime Felix with the report he, Felix, had to make to his mother. Claes reminded him why he had dismissed his Louvain manager and all the changes the new man was going to make, aided by Felix. Felix, languid after the night’s excesses, was irritated; a thing Claes normally found easy to deal with.
This time he failed to beguile, perhaps because he himself was not entirely in the mood for inventive raillery. Felix rounded on him, pointing out that he knew perfectly well what his mother wanted to know; that he was tired of the subject, and that it had nothing to do with Claes anyway. From long experience, Claes dropped the whole thing and proceeded to work both Felix and himself into a better mood. They were nearly at Bruges when Felix, now entirely cheerful, mentioned Mabelie.
Everyone, everywhere, teased Claes about his conquests. He accepted it philosophically. What his real feelings were in regard to one girl or another, there was no requirement for him to tell anybody. During the three months of his absence, anyway, his private affairs, if any, had been his own; and since he came back, he had been too busy to pursue personal matters. Apart from those he could not avoid. But on his first day back in Bruges, of course, Felix had told him that John Bonkle had won the affections of Mabelie. Which, since John was a nice lad, Claes had resigned himself to, and had taken trouble, indeed, to make things easy between himself and John, and to make it clear to the girl, who was a sweet thing, that he had no possible claims on her.
He didn’t expect, at any time, to discuss Mabelie with Felix, far less on the road home from Ghent. Indeed, it began with what appeared to be a much more dangerous subject. Felix said, as they rode, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t bring my armour out now. You know all about it anyway. You can say the Dauphin’s men lent it to me. You can clean it for me, and I’ll put it into the show for the White Bear joust.”
“You’ve put your name down then?” Claes said.
“They accepted it. Before we left. It’s only two weeks away. I mean to practise every day. It’s the greatest joust in Flanders. In France. In Europe, really now. And they’ll all be there. The lord of Ghistelle. The seigneur de Gruuthuse. The Count of Charolais, maybe. As many of the Knights of the Golden Fleece as can get away. You know. The man who wins the lance is made Forestier for the year, and goes from house to house with his party …”
“It costs a lot of money,” said Claes. He blinked. “Did you get money too?” He kept it low, so that the grooms riding behind shouldn’t hear.
Felix grinned. “You didn’t guess? Well, it went into things you wouldn’t know about. Like Mabelie.”
“Mabelie?”
Felix’s grin, under the borrowed straw hat, became wider. “I bought Mabelie from John Bonkle.”
“You what!” said Claes. He stopped his horse dead. The grooms swerved behind him. Felix rode on grinning for a pace or two, and then finding himself alone, turned broadside and came back, grinning even more widely. The grooms faltered, looking at Claes who glanced round, saw some trees and said shortly, “We’ll eat there. Go there and wait.”
The grooms rode on, not looking at each other until they were out of reach. Felix stayed where he was, his eyes sparkling. “Aha!” he said. “Don’t you wish you had thought of it?”
Claes