Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [34]
They stemmed the flood under the inn door with brooms, and then swept a path outside so that the magistrates could emerge and survey the novel carnival aspect of the market-place. The magistrates were about to emerge when Claes slid hastily in, followed closely by a trail of yellow footprints.
Halfway to Felix he slowed, becoming conscious perhaps of an area of peculiar silence.
Half the inn’s clients, it appeared, were vastly amused, among them Lionetto and his companions. By contrast Julius, Felix and all Felix’s friends stood in a huddle, looking at Claes. Adorne and the magistrates were looking at him as well, and the Greek, standing quietly beside them.
The owner of the Two Tablets, unsure what was happening, rushed to reassure. “As you asked, my lords, a constable has been sent to the Waterhuus. And a sergeant. And the town surgeon, to see to the cranemen.”
The doctor Tobias, lifting his head with some trouble, said with drunken solemnity, “No need for that. I’m a surgeon.”
He rose, arms outstretched, single sleeve dangling, and began to weave his way to the door, slapping his feet into fresh floods of colour. Rainbow bubbles rose from his heels. Arrested, he stamped, making more of them. He watched them rise. He turned and blew them, with a large and deliberate bounty towards the swaying Lionetto, upon whom they burst like fried eggs.
Julius, swiftly calculating the cost of the silk doublet under the gold and (glass?) rubies, was not surprised to see dawning rage on the captain’s roughened face. The Greek said, “Ah, there is our friend Claes, come to chastise me. But indeed, I did deliver your message to Felix. He will tell you.”
“Forgive me.” It was Anselm Adorne, intervening, in Italian. “Forgive me, Messer de’ Acciajuoli. You saw the boy this morning?”
No unspoken message from Felix, no fierce counter-appeal from Julius, no beseeching gaze from the rest of the youths prevented Nicholai de’ Acciajuoli from saying what he wanted to say.
“Through the prison window, of course. Unfortunate lad. He gave me a message for this young gentleman. What was it? Not to do it.”
“Not to do what, Monsignore?” said Adorne gently.
The Greek smiled. “That is his secret. Something, no doubt, they had planned together. Do you imagine it is safe to go out?”
Anselm Adorne turned his fair head and divided his gaze between the pale face of Felix de Charetty and the artless one of Claes the apprentice. “Yes. Tell us,” he said. “Is it safe to go out?”
Claes and Felix looked at one another, and Julius shut his eyes.
The expression on the apprentice’s face was not without cloud. It was, perhaps, more that of one who meant to please, and hoped to be liked for it. “It should be,” said Claes. “If everything went according to plan, it should be, monsignore. Meester Julius, is it true that –”
“My doublet is ruined,” said Lionetto. The doctor had gone.
“Meester Julius –”
“Do I understand,” said Lionetto, “that this lout is responsible for the mess that has ruined my doublet?” His admiration of Claes, it was clear, had undergone a transformation.
No one answered. Anselm Adorne, eyebrows raised, looked at Julius. Felix looked at Claes, his lips parted. Claes, persevering, said, “Meester Julius. Is it true that the Lady is coming from Louvain, and captain Astorre with her?”
“Yes,” said Julius shortly.
“Oh,” said Claes. His saucer eyes rested on Julius.
“Astorre!” hissed Lionetto. “Astorre!” he repeated, voice rising. “That block of criminal stupidity is coming here, to Bruges, while I am in town? Is he tired of life, Astorre? Or is he wooing the widow, Astorre? Retiring from the lost battles to take his ease in a dyeshop? Is that why he is here?”
Anselm Adorne turned. “The widow of Charetty employs