Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [236]
He had turned away before she could reply. He knew. He knew something.
Afterwards, when he had gone and the Duchess and her kittens were sleeping, Katelina left the Dowager’s suite and went to the reception rooms where she might find the Duke’s mistress. The King of France, it was clear, was satisfied that no French secrets could leak through to Flanders from the Dowager’s court. That a Flemish secret might leak through to France ought to give him great pleasure.
Antoinette de Maignélais, when she found her, naturally knew all about Jordan. France was full, my dear, of these Scots who came and fought in her wars and then stayed on to become rich. Grateful kings gave them seigneuries, like this Ribérac. A clever man with a good eye for trade didn’t take long to make connections, acquire fleets, amass property. And the reward? The King of France’s ear, my dear, on all matters financial, and some of the darker little secrets of his treasury. His present Majesty often sent him to Brittany, to disentangle the affairs of his first wife’s sister. Personally, said Antoinette, she preferred men who were not quite so obese.
Katelina agreed, as most people did with this lady. When Agnès Sorel, the French King’s great mistress, died ten years ago, her place was filled by her cousin Antoinette, Madame de Villequier: some said before she was widowed, some said after. When the King’s taste became jaded, she found him younger bedfellows. She still did so, and was as often at the King’s side as at the Duke’s. She had carried to the Duke, rumour said, the King’s ulcerous leg. She was sharp-witted, forthright and practical.
Katelina said, “It’s not so much the fat. Is he trusted?”
The lids fell, in mock pain, over the bright, painted eyes. “My dear, you know better than that!” said Antoinette. “If there is one person to be trusted at court, we do not rest until we have changed him. But, having the strings of the Mint in his shirt, I suppose our dear Jordan has all the money he wants. But, let us think, now you mention it. What else would attract him?”
“The same position under the next king?” said Katelina.
The painted eyes wandered. “Ah,” said Antoinette. “Tell me. Is this hearsay?”
“No,” said Katelina. “He has been seen at Genappe. He has information about the Dauphin’s chamberlain which could only have been learned at Genappe. He takes with him one at least of the Scots Guard of archers.”
“How do you know?” said Antoinette.
Katelina said, “He has no hold over me or my family. But he is trying to persuade me to marry him.”
“Why?” said Antoinette. “Of course, you are very beautiful. But he is a rich man, with many to choose from in his own country.”
“To oust his Scottish son from the inheritance,” Katelina said. “He wants heirs. Once he has them, his present son may not long survive.”
“And he chooses a Flemish, a Burgundian lady,” said Antoinette. “How fortunate that he is fat, and did not attract you. Doubly fortunate. Fat men are noticed, when gossip starts.”
“Gossip is none of my business,” said Katelina.
“I am aware,” said Antoinette. “But, my dear, you know very well that in Bourges, where the king is, gossip is what makes the walls and the ditches and mans the embrasures. Gossip, my dear, not bricks and mortar.”
That was when Katelina wrote her letter to Gelis, to be passed on to Claes. To a casual reader, the missive appeared mostly concerned with the astonishing shipwreck of an ostrich. In the weeks that followed, Antoinette didn’t return to the subject of Jordan. Later, when Katelina knew she was pregnant, she did nothing to correct or cancel the rumour she had started.
From what Claes had said, there was truth in it. Antoinette would report to King Charles. And King Charles would have his own way of testing the loyalty of