Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [68]
Julius had been wary of Tobie at first. Astorre still thought he was a spy, and fingered his half-ear when Tobie contradicted him. Tobie had a tongue in his head like a whiplash but had shown no interest, till now, in the Charetty family. And even now, his box on a bench, the doctor was only chatting while working.
Julius was working too, a ledger laid on his knees and his tender backside sunk in a cushion. “Oh, Claes knows Geneva,” said Julius. “Poor bastard. He was dragged up in the kitchens of the Fleury family till they kicked him out and Corneille de Charetty took him in as an apprentice. The Widow’s sister married into the Fleury.”
“Why did they kick him out?” said the doctor absently. He had cleared a space on the commonroom stool for his bowl and pestle, and was blending powders, crushing and grinding with circular movements, the candlelight glowing on his toughened, bald scalp.
“Why did he get a thrashing today? Too much energy and no sense of direction,” said Julius. “Also, a peculiar household. Wait till you meet Esota.”
“Esota?” He went on grinding.
“Wife of Jaak de Fleury. Jaak, the head of the business. Old Thibault’s sick; stays outside Dijon; does nothing now. Jaak runs it all. Was running it when I was there as his notary. Claes had gone by that time. I stuck it a year, until I heard there was work at the Charetty.”
The blending was finished. Tobie released his spatula and exercised his fingers, looking up. He had the most unremarkable face Julius had ever seen. Sheathed in fine, spindrift hair, the bald head descended through a flat, faintly-lined brow to colourless eyebrows, round pale eyes and a small spare mouth, tinted pink. Its single decorative note was formed by the pads of his nostrils, which were round and fleshy and curled, like two notes of music. Tobie said, “We have to go there, don’t we? How do you feel about meeting them?”
“Oh, we didn’t quarrel,” said Julius. “I left to be tutor to Felix. Jaak was angry because he was losing me, and he doesn’t like the Charetty family – the demoiselle’s sister was only a second wife, and the Fleury don’t really recognise the relationship. But Corneille de Charetty was useful as a Bruges agent: buying stuff like pewter from England for de Fleury’s clients, or herring or pictures or painted canvas. And in return, Jaak sells Charetty cloth at the Geneva fairs on commission. So he complained – didn’t he! – when I left, but he didn’t want to fall out with Corneille.”
“So of course you don’t mind going back,” said the doctor. “Well-found, with authority, the notary of a promising war-band with excellent prospects. He’ll regret even more that he lost you.” He leaned forward and, lifting his bowl, began to fill a jar methodically with its scourings.
Julius gave a wry smile. “It will be amusing,” he said. “I suppose it’s Claes one should be sorry for. Poor bastard. Eight years later, and look at him. They’ll be glad they got rid of him when they did.”
Tobias said, “Well, you saved the boy’s life there at Sluys. He seems quite attached to you. Is he frightened now? What will he do when he comes face to face with this family?”
“Smile,” said Julius.
The doctor raised his brows. He said, resting his hands on his knees, “You make him sound simple. From all I hear of him, he can be highly ingenious when he wants to be.”
“Well, of course he is,” said Julius, irritated. “He’s picked up reading and writing, and scraps from the classes at Louvain as Felix’s servant. The Widow’s harsh, but she’s never stopped him improving himself. I’ve taught him myself. He’s good at numbers. In fact, that’s what he’s best at.”
“And still a dyers’ apprentice?” said the doctor.
Julius’ annoyance changed to amusement. “Well, can you see Claes in clerical company?” he said. “He’d empty anyone’s office in a trice. He likes his life. He’s happy. I sometimes wish that he wasn’t. He lets other people do what they like with him. If