Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [19]
He saw them settled in before leaving for Bonne-Nouvelle over the bridge. They had three days to wait in Rouen before the festivities. He had given up thinking too much about their habits and their clothes. He had been told to come each day and look after them, show them the sights, and fulfil their reasonable wishes. When the Entry was over, they would move with the Court to its winter quarters and the serious business of the visit would no doubt begin.
Robin Stewart, who above all things was fascinated by success, found no particular enjoyment in handling his Irishmen. He introduced them to the innkeeper, made Piedar Dooly acquainted with the kitchens, and left. As he rode out of the street a Gentleman of the Bedchamber rode into it, bearing a message for Phelim O’LiamRoe, Prince of Barrow, from His Most Christian Majesty Henri II of France. He welcomed the party, in the heartiest terms, to the hospitable shores of France, and invited The O’LiamRoe to visit His Majesty at noon that day in the Priory of Bonne-Nouvelle, dressed for tennis.
‘Dear God,’ said Thady Boy Ballagh, when the courtly messenger had bowed himself out; and lowered his round form on the bed.
There had already been a remarkably sharp argument about what to do with the half-footed man: O’LiamRoe allowed that without proof they could make no accusations, but had decided in the end that Piedar Dooly might well be asked to keep an eye from time to time on the maimed Jonah and his whale. And now—‘Dear God,’ said Thady Ballagh, ‘you can barely walk as it is in that lather of saffron and pig’s hair you’ve got on. How the tatteration will you lep about with a racquet, and those leggings, and the little wee ball that’s in it?’
The sun, bright for autumn still, fell on O’LiamRoe’s head as he stood at their parlour window looking down. Heads hooded and bare passed and repassed below; a scarlet plume in a man’s cap tossed, and satin gleamed; then white gauze and blue velvet from a woman’s head and cloak as she passed with her servant. A cart went by, full of beer kegs, and a maid with her trailing skirt black-wet came along from the fountain with a pail in one hand. A man strolled past and leaned on the doorpost opposite, stroking his black beard.
‘Ah, you’re a faint-heart, Thady Boy. If a man can give a breeze-fly a clap in a byre, he can smite a great baby’s plaything like that. But it’s a strange, heathen way to welcome a guest.’
‘He’s offering you the privilege of a friendly meeting before the formal courtesies,’ said his secretary patiently. ‘Dress as neat as you can, for the sake of us all, and stay outside the nets streaming flattery like a honey cane on the hot roof of the world.’
‘Look at this,’ said O’LiamRoe, instead of answering. Outside, the bearded man had moved. Taking off his plain black brimmed hat, he scratched a head of thick dark hair, while his gaze roved the rooftops with idle vagueness; the sun, patched with stack-shadows, fell on his opaque white skin and straight nose, and the black plangent eyebrows. He had a short, white coat, plainly cut and showing dark full sleeves and a coarse doublet under; but they lay on a big, heavy-shouldered form vaguely familiar. Bad drawings of the man were everywhere, and the coins in their two purses had his likeness.
‘It’s the King,’ said Thady Boy. ‘No, it can’t be.’
‘Then it’s his double,’ said O’LiamRoe.
There was silence, then a crooning sound broke from Thady Boy. ‘It is so,’ he said. ‘Of course. The terrible show on Wednesday they’re so full of. Was there not to be a chariot all done up with the double of the King and his family for the procession?’
He was right. Looking closely, you could see that a rough likeness had been emphasized by the exact trim of hair and beard; the man was a natural for the part. Unaccountably, O’LiamRoe was ruffled. ‘I’d have said it was damned dangerous to have two kings in a harebrained country like this one.’
The man darkly preening in the doorway, if he had had notions of practising a kingly fantasy, had quickly abandoned it. A child