Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [234]
Felix stood and frowned. Nicholas returned to scanning his papers. Felix said, “I’m not going to be killed. Not with all that money there. Do you think I’m going to leave you to spend it? But –”
He didn’t explain any more. Nicholas apparently understood. He said, “Well, you know how Julius needs keeping in order. I dare say it might be quite a good thing in the end. I’ll probably get back to Bruges before you. You don’t mind if I buy myself some nice jousting-armour?”
He leaned his head back, his gaze owlish. Felix laid down the shirt, and grinned, and walking round the bed sat on it, looking down at Nicholas and his papers. He said, “You just want to get rid of me. You don’t know what happened today at the Chancery.”
“No, I don’t,” said Nicholas obediently.
Felix said, “I was called in by Cicco Simonetta, and asked if I would accept a gift from the Duke to take back to the demoiselle of Charetty. He offered money.”
He had, from the floor, Nicholas’ entire attention. “And you told him we were tired of money?” Nicholas said.
“I told him,” Felix said, “that in place of money I should like to ask a great favour. Such as the return of the singing Guinea slave whose services my mother had come to miss sorely.”
The scarred face below him changed a little. “Loppe?” said Nicholas. “I didn’t know he’d seen you.”
“For some reason,” said Felix, “he enjoyed being with us. He doesn’t like Milan now Brother Gilles has gone away. He’s afraid he’ll be sent to Cosimo in Florence. I think,” said Felix dreamily, “an African, properly dressed, makes a good impression in any company.”
“So?” said Nicholas.
“So Messer Cicco offered to return Loppe with pleasure. And I said that I hoped to send in his place something that would give the Duke even more satisfaction.”
“You did?” Nicholas said. “A sack of duty-free alum? A fancy helmet? A jacket with ermine tails on it? Or … Felix? What did you think he might like?”
“What you said he’d ordered, and he hadn’t. I suggested,” said Felix, “that what the Duke ought to have was an ostrich.”
Below, they wondered if the two young men from Flanders were killing each other, such was the outburst of thumping and shouting that came from above. But when they descended a little while later, red-faced and rather dishevelled, the older had the younger by the shoulders and they both appeared to be laughing.
Chapter 34
THE DOWAGER DUCHESS of Brittany, whose childless marriage had occurred when she was very young, was neither very old nor very wise. Her late sister Marie, who had married the neighbouring monarch in France, had been basically silly as well, although brought up with a liking for letters and poets. Indeed, her young court had acquired a certain notoriety because of its liking for poets, but this was less a matter of orgies, it was thought, than mere childish levity.
The Dowager Isabelle, although much given to rages and passions, was a lady of shallow mind who could be easily diverted from most things, always excluding her strong desire not to be sent back to Scotland. Her little court, unlike that of the young Duke her nephew, was a backwater, and public affairs seldom intruded. She was allowed, therefore, to include among her cats and her ladies a member of the family van Borselen, whose affiliations were Burgundian. This was a concession. France was Brittany’s overlord, and no friend to Burgundy. And Burgundy, it was rumoured, was no friend to France’s protégé, the English king who was a Lancastrian.
Nevertheless the Duke of Brittany, having cast a practised eye over Katelina van Borselen, was heartily in favour of allowing her to stay to wait on his aunt. She would learn nothing dangerous. They might even convert her to a Breton way of thinking. He would like to see that glossy hair out of its pleats, and the rest of her, but Antoinette would deny him her bedroom again. And he liked his women, as a rule, with more colour.
In April, it was true to say, the Dowager’s new maiden of honour had possessed a brighter complexion. The