Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [39]
He hesitated, and bowed, and left, and after he had called Felix, he locked himself in his own room, and thought. He had still reached no conclusions when, some time later, he heard a door bang and realised he was listening to Felix emerging in turn from his interview.
Julius unlocked his door and, dashing downstairs, was in time to catch his pupil, sullen, raging, red-eyed, and bear him off to a quiet spot to deal with. It came to him, in the middle of this, that he appeared to have reached a conclusion after all.
One of the servants was sent for Claes, and they all watched as he thumped downstairs and knocked on his mistress’s door, and was admitted. They all lingered, but the door was thick and the mistress never raised her voice anyway. And old Henninc came along in any case and chased them away. One of the boys said the Widow had a whip with three thongs and wire on it, but they didn’t hear any whip sounds either.
When Claes went in, Marian de Charetty was writing. She went on writing until he closed the door gently, and then looked up as he crossed the floor to her table. She said, “Turn round.”
His open face smiled at her. He said, “There is no need, demoiselle. It’s healing well. Meester Julius cared for me. And the second time –”
“He paid. I know. You’ll die, Claes. You’ll die before you are twenty unless you quieten down. The cannon, surely, was nothing to you?”
“The cannon?” he said, astonished.
“Or did someone pay you … No of course they didn’t.” She answered herself, staring at him, frowning. “You would arrange it to fall overboard simply for the pleasure of tricking somebody. Don’t you want to know how I guessed?”
He stood, his hands hanging at his sides, perfectly composed. “I expect the Duke’s officers paid the fine for the demoiselle,” he said. “But of course, Meester Julius could not be told.”
“Julius has already told me what a hard and valuable worker you are,” said his mistress. “Do you suppose the direction of your talents has escaped his attention?”
He took her up wrongly. “Jonkheere Felix would still get into trouble, even if I weren’t with him. Young gentlemen do.”
“Thank you for the news,” said his mistress. “I know, and Meester Julius knows, that when you are there, the mischief is usually harmless. What Felix does on his own is not so considerate. The waterhuus warden will be beaten and dismissed at the least. That I know you didn’t plan.”
He was silent. Then he said, “Of course, the demoiselle is correct. Jonkheere Felix requires work, and away from the well-meaning elders who remember his father. The demoiselle is considering, then, that he might leave university?”
She tented her fingers against her mouth. “I thought of that. But I felt Louvain was important.”
There was a pause. Then he said, “The demoiselle would find, I think, that it has served its purpose.”
Another pause. She said, “And if I were to send you to work with him?”
She had learned, through the years, not to listen to what Claes said, but to watch his eyes. He said, “Jonkheere Felix is getting older. He might be better with the company of his own kind.”
She went on studying him. “But he would not resent Meester Julius?” Then, reading his smile, “Or, I see, the reverse. Meester Julius might become restive under Felix. So I send my son away, and you and Julius stay and help me operate my business? Beginning with an achievement like yesterday’s?”
“The brush with the Scotsmen?” he said.
“The Scotsman,” she said sharply. “An act of deliberate malice. Of folly. Of madness. What have you to say?”
“It was an accident,” he said. He was looking at his feet.
“Like the cannon?” said Marian de Charetty. “Except that this time, it was personal. You saw this man at Damme. You took a dislike to him before you even knew who he was. You decided to hold him up to ridicule.”
“Demoiselle,