Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [252]
Julius, watching the little rescue taking place, caught the gleam of the weapon and screamed. Nicholas heard him. It made no difference. The bolt was already on its way.
Nicholas, stopping his horse, had already leaned down to swing Felix into the saddle when Felix gave a small gasp. His mouth opened. Instead of jumping he sank slowly down to his knees. A moment later Nicholas had flung the reins from him and dropped beside him. They saw him kneel, and take Felix by the shoulders, and then hold him, looking down at his back. The bolt between Felix’s shoulderblades was quite distinct.
Julius began to urge his horse forward and then instead dismounted and ran, and saw that Tobie was doing the same. After the single shot, the living had drawn back from the field. No one on either side moved, except to sway, or shuffle, or shift to hold up the wounded. The trumpets went into the last cadenza of their call. Julius reached the injured boy.
Tobie was already there, behind Felix. He didn’t even touch him; only looked up at Nicholas, and then Julius, and moved his head a little, from one side to the other.
Nicholas had been speaking to Felix. The murmuring voice went on after Julius came to his side, but he couldn’t hear what it said. Now and then, Felix asked a question and Nicholas answered. He had one hand under the boy’s arm, supporting his weight. The other was spread behind, above the murdering bolt, holding Felix’s head forward, his cheek resting on Nicholas’ shoulder. The cut brown hair blew a little, in the sunset breeze.
Tobie said, “You can lay him down when I’ve drawn it. Then he’ll go, Nicholas.”
“He knows,” said Nicholas.
He looked down. Some message must have passed. He looked up from Felix’s face and found Tobie, and said, “Yes. Before the pain gets any worse.”
Other men were whimpering in other parts of the field, but Felix made no sound when the bolt was drawn, although Julius heard the rush and spatter of blood. Tobie unlaced the cuirass and Nicholas, changing his grip, lowered the slight, wiry body until it lay on the ground.
Felix looked gaunt, the way he did when he had drunk too much the night before, or become too excited, or spent too much time with Grielkine. His eyes, large and shallow and dull, were only on Nicholas. He said, “Why did you marry my mother?”
“Because I love you both,” Nicholas said.
A little later, Tobie said in his quiet voice, “Close his eyes.”
Nicholas carried Felix de Charetty from the field to his tent, although Loppe came to his help at the last part. Then the doctor closed the flap and didn’t come out for a while.
Nicholas didn’t come out at all, and so must have slept there. The next day, when he did appear in Astorre’s pavilion, he had his saddlebags already packed but passed Julius and the others without saying anything. It was Tobie who said, “Nicholas feels, and I think he’s right, that the lad’s mother should be told as soon as possible. After the burial he’s going off, fever or no. He’ll take Loppe, but I’d feel better if you were with him as well. If, that is, you want to go back to Bruges at all.”
Julius knew the date. It was Wednesday, the twenty-third day of July. However promptly anyone left, Marian de Charetty wouldn’t know of her son’s death for many weeks; perhaps not until September. He said, “What about you? No, of course. All the wounded.”
The doctor’s eyes were swollen with sleeplessness. “I’ve got my hands full. A useless tragedy, if ever there was one. We came off worst, it seems. But Piccinino isn’t likely to attack again soon, if ever: he’s lost too much. Astorre will stay to the end of his contract and I’ll leave Godscalc with him, of course. I’ll get to Bruges when I can.”
Julius said, “I’ll go. Felix, Claes and I. Nicholas. We went about a lot together, and Felix was a good lad. But I wouldn’t have said …” He stopped.
The doctor fixed him with his odd kestrel gaze. “That Nicholas would respond in the way he did to what happened? You and I have seen death in battle. It was his first time.”
“Yes. And, of course, he has the boy’s mother