Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [226]
Felix thought. He became aware that he had been thinking for a long time. His heart was thudding. Nicholas, he saw, was watching him and smiling a little. Felix said, “And that’s why you’re going to Milan?”
Nicholas said, “I do have courier business to do. Dispatches to deliver and collect, and fees for both. But yes. Tobie sent me the proofs. Adorne has seen them, and your mother. Now I have to talk to the Venetians. Not the Florentines, who would instantly expose the papal mines and exploit them themselves. But the Venetians, who control the Phocoean alum.”
“And that’s why you invested money in Venice?” said Felix dreamily.
Nicholas said, “Partly. When I started, I didn’t know all this would happen. Or that I should be staying in Bruges.”
“You were going to leave?” Felix said.
“I was sent away,” Nicholas said. “For improper behaviour. You must remember.”
“But you came back and married my mother instead,” Felix said.
They had been talking, man to man. He thought for a moment that, man to man, Nicholas was going to answer him. But although he hesitated, in the end he only said, “Yes.”
After that, there were other questions and answers. At some time Nicholas, still talking, untied Felix’s hands. Food was brought, and eaten. The bed, which was broad enough for five, was prepared for the night. At that point Nicholas said, “I’ve told them to free your two men, and tell them that you’ve decided to travel on to Milan of your own free will, but that if they doubt it, they can come and speak to you. Apparently they fell asleep without troubling. Was I right?”
“I suppose so,” said Felix. Between food and warmth and wine and sleepiness, the words had some trouble forming themselves. He said, “You were supposed to give me your dagger.”
“I forgot,” said Nicholas. “There it is. Which side of the bed do you want?”
But Felix was already in bed, and although he thought he answered, he didn’t.
Chapter 33
THIS TIME, THE cavalcade of the Charetty entering Milan caused no shutters to open. For one thing, it was too hot. For another, the rival captains had mostly departed long since for their respective battlefields: some south to Naples, and some spurring east after the renegade Count Piccinino.
Those who were not captains were not impressed by the appearance of a merchant’s young son and his factor, however strongly escorted. What gained Felix immediate entrance through the Porta Vercellina and a ready welcome at the Inn of the Hat was the safe-conduct carried by Nicholas, with its manifold Medici and Burgundian signatures.
But of that, Felix was unaware. For seven days he had ridden at Nicholas’ side discussing business, the way a man should with his manager. To his questions, Nicholas had given long, careful explanations which he had found not at all boring. They had talked about Henninc and Bellobras, and about Gregorio, and Cristoffels at Louvain. Nicholas had asked his opinion about many things. Nicholas, anxious that he should follow all the negotiations they were going to have, annoyed him from time to time by trying to teach him Italian.
Arguing with Nicholas, echoes of his mother’s diatribes and inquisitions had come back to Felix, together with some of his father’s impatience. Nicholas was not deferential, but had dropped into the same reasonable, commonsense voice that Julius had habitually used with his employer. Felix approved of that. Some of the shame and the anger and the fright of the last eight weeks began to ebb away.
In the city of Milan where, instead of air, they had marble powder and brickdust, Nicholas had four calls to make for the Charetty company, and Felix, if he so wished, could attend him on each. Felix so wished, once he had got his boots off and his doublet unfastened and a good night’s sleep and a lot of wine behind him. He flopped on the inn bed, leaving Nicholas to order food and see