Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [233]
Nicholas, amazingly, didn’t fall off. Screaming at him with the rest, Felix became gradually thoughtful. When he was told, at the end, to mount and break a lance against his one-time servant himself, he lifted his weapon with none of the angry elation he remembered from that silly mock jousting in Bruges. The fight was different, too. He tried his hardest, but this time he didn’t dislodge Nicholas, although Nicholas rocked him twice in the saddle. Then someone came from the Chancery asking for him, and Nicholas took his leave of the master and left.
He didn’t come back. Felix supposed there were arrangements to make for the homeward trip. It would be a fast journey this time, with the great news to take to his mother. The Medici credit notes were already on their way to Bruges by Medici messenger. The Venetian and Genoese money orders they would take to Bruges themselves. Stripped to the waist, Felix ate under the trees with his new friends, and chatted, from duty, to someone he recognised, and dressed rather thoughtfully and called in his turn, when summoned, at the office at the Arengo of Cicco Simonetta. Then he went back to the inn.
Nicholas was there, under the vine canopy in the garden, with some of their men at arms. Felix located him at once because of the laughter. When Nicholas didn’t rise to his call, he went out and joined them, and took some ale, and found he wanted to laugh quite a lot as well. Much later, in the room that they shared, Felix peeled off his sodden shirt once again and set out to obtain some answers.
Nicholas always gave answers. Nicholas said, “I’ve told the escort to be ready to set out for Bruges tomorrow. I’ve hired some extra men for security, but all the bank drafts have been copied in case of accidents. I wondered if you’d object to going back on your own.”
Felix stood, shirt in hand, and glared at him.
“You’ve got all the money,” said Nicholas.
He’d forgotten about Geneva. He’d forgotten all his suspicions. Felix said, “Where are you going?”
Nicholas said, “I thought someone should find Tobie and thank him. He arranged all of this. I expected to find him here. We owe him a lot, and I want to make sure he’s all right.”
“Tobias?” said Felix. “He’s on the other side of the country. With the Count of Urbino and Lionetto.”
“So they think,” Nicholas said.
“And what about my mother?” Felix said.
“You’ll be there,” Nicholas said. “She has good help as well. Now the money will solve everything.”
Felix said, “She doesn’t need me, does she? Only the money.”
Nicholas said, “Which do you think she would choose?”
And Felix said, “Are you coming back to Bruges at all?”
Nicholas grinned. “I’ve got to come back, haven’t I? Or you’ll spend the whole fortune on jousting-armour. Of course I’ll be back. I haven’t got any money, for one thing.”
Silence. Felix stood, pleating a handful of shirt. He said, “Why did you marry my mother?”
The large eyes didn’t avoid his. He could see no guile in them. After a while, Nicholas said, “Because it was the right thing to do.”
Felix looked down. He said, “I see.” After a moment he said, “I suppose she wants us both back. But she’s got help. We could get someone else to take her the money.”
Nicholas said, “We could, of course. Why? Do you want to stay in Milan?” The floor was littered with papers. He sat down, crossed his legs, and began to collect them together on his knee, shuffling them into order. He didn’t say, “Do you want to come with me?” In Felix’s mind, a vagrant desire recently provoked became, unexpectedly, an intention. Felix said, “I want to go down to Naples. I want to join Astorre and Julius and fight.”
Nicholas tapped his papers together and looked up. He said, “Well, I don’t see why not. You ought to have the experience.”
Felix stopped pleating the shirt. “You think I should go?” he said.
Nicholas balanced the paper pile on his scissored ankles. “If you want to. It’s unfair to your mother, but she’s used to it. So long as you don’t salve your conscience