Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [58]
“And the other?” said Claes gravely.
“The other comes from the Dauphin. The Dauphin Louis of France, who is staying at present with Meester Bladelin. He remembers clearly, it seems, meeting yourself and Felix on one of his visits to Louvain. Felix engaged him in conversation about hunting. He proposes for you a post with his huntsman, combined with that of – he said – a resourceful errand lad. The post, he said, was too menial for a son of mine.”
“But Felix wants it,” said Claes.
This time she chose not to answer, watching him; waiting for him to return the stroke in this delicate game … the fourth, the fifth, the sixth such conversation she had held with him, perhaps, since she had found him grown, suddenly, out of childhood. Six such conversations, sensibly spaced.
Mabelie had called twice, not being able to dispense with … conversations.
Claes said, “Or no, I see. Felix longs to be the Dauphin’s huntsman, but he doesn’t know yet that there is a third offer. Then I give you best. I don’t know what it is.”
“It is mine,” said Marian de Charetty steadily. “That you join captain Astorre and his mercenaries on their trip to Italy, and if he finds you suitable, stay with him to fulfil any contract he may make on my behalf. When the contract ends you may choose to stay, or return here.”
He changed colour. An involuntary response was the last thing she had expected: in her turn, she was shaken. Even then, she could not tell whether he felt pleasure or fear.
To give him time, she said, “You and Julius have always maintained that the mercenary troop ought to be the most lucrative side of the business. Astorre has given me good reason to think that is so. The Duke of Milan and the Pope are recruiting mercenaries for the Naples war: we have well-trained lances on reserve pay who have only to be called. Captain Astorre with the best of these will go overland to Milan before Christmas. If Astorre obtains a contract, he will send for more men by the spring.”
He said, “But the Flanders galleys would take me out of reach of my lord Simon just as effectively.”
That was to test her. But her thoughts on this matter had occupied many nights. She said, “Do you suppose you are being chased out of the city by Simon? There is no question of that. You maintain that the shears fell into the water and became entangled between you. My lord Simon, it seems, will say nothing, except that he regrets the disgrace to his rank in being led by his temper into chastising a servant. For him to seek you out now or attack you would make him a laughing-stock.”
“And you don’t think I would attack him?” said Claes.
“I think I know you,” she said. “That is why I have asked Astorre if he will take you. There are things you need to learn.”
“Such as how to fight,” he said. His tone was neither joking nor bitter but idle, as if his thoughts were quite elsewhere. He said, “Demoiselle, I am content, as I told you. If you know me, you know that.”
She said, “But you have put yourself in the market-place,” with a little sadness. And then, as he did not answer, she said, “And, you must know, the city is concerned. They won’t press charges for what has happened and they won’t order me to send you away. But it would be wise to leave Bruges for a while.”
She broke off again. Claes said, “Geneva lies on the way to Milan. Will captain Astorre call there? Is that what you mean by having something to learn?”
When Claes wanted to know something, there was no avoiding the vastness of his gaze. He did not look distressed, although his face was more hollow than it usually was, with the faint rainbow colours here and there that reminded Felix, he said, of St Salvator’s windows.
Claes had come to her from the kitchens of Jaak de Fleury of Geneva, whose late niece’s bastard he was. Michelle her sister had been Thibault de Fleury’s second wife.