Queen's Play - Dorothy Dunnett [65]
They roamed the neighbourhood. Sightseeing in Paris, they stopped at the Pineapple and ordered the first ten men they met to eat pork and mustard in their gloves. De Genstan left the Pineapple on a ladder. The rest were more fortunate, but lost Thady Boy, who was removed by Lord d’Aubigny for a quick cultural tour of the city. After St. Denis, Notre Dame and the unfinished Louvre, Stewart reclaimed him for display at the Mouton, but before he could be primed sufficiently to sing, his lordship was back to escort him to see the jumping at Tournelles. Stewart sulked. He could tolerate the mignons and Thady Boy’s half day at Anet. But Lord d’Aubigny’s patronage roused him to rage.
On the last day at St. Germain, Thady Boy put himself in Stewart’s hands for a visit to the menagerie. Lymond handling a disciple had all the address of a surgeon.
With Thady went Piedar Dooly and The O’LiamRoe who, like Maximilian’s pelican, followed him everywhere except into the royal presence and who, in private, uproarious sessions in Gaelic, was evolving a brilliantly bigoted new philosophy to meet the occasion.
It was a mild, damp day, with a haze over the valley, beading the cobwebs, and with grit and bladdered leaves underfoot. Stewart led the way, his starched collar limp on his cuirass, and the three Irishmen followed through the castle park to the Porte au Pecq. The kennels by the Parc des Loges were empty; the famous pack of black and white hounds had gone south. The Falconry too was denuded.
The elephants were not travelling yet. Abernaci, warned beforehand by a call from Stewart, met them with his primitive English at the barred gates, bowing softly in his turban and silks. Not by a flicker of his opaque black eyes did he betray interest in either O’LiamRoe or his ollave. The Keeper’s words were blandly welcoming, and at Stewart’s prompting, he led them inside.
This building was new, a hollow square two storeys high enclosing a courtyard. On the ground floor were the cages, each divided into two compartments by a door operated by chains from above. Upstairs, stores, offices and sleeping quarters gave on to a gallery running round the entire court. The Irish party, looking down from the gallery, were shown the arena where the animals exercised and fought; and at their feet the traps, one for each cage, where the meat was thrown down to the lions and bears and hunting cats far below.
Robin Stewart had seen it already that morning. While The O’LiamRoe, all honey hair and plum-coloured vowels, went off to sink his teeth into zoology, Robin Stewart was waiting edgily by the door with a groom. He established, automatically, what the local butcher wanted for mutton, and whether a keeper’s monthly wage matched his oncosts. He asked if the groom’s wife approved of his work, if he had ever caught anything off the beasts, if he’d been clawed.
The man was reluctantly opening his shirt when O’LiamRoe interrupted. There was an empty lodge just below which he wanted to see. The groom, relieved, scuttled away and Stewart took the Prince down, while Thady Boy remained to watch Abernaci wind the chains.
It was difficult to tell afterwards how the mechanism stuck. Stewart and O’LiamRoe entered the windowless rear half of the cage and Abernaci shut the door from above. There it remained immovable for some considerable time. As every ablebodied man on the premises worked cheerfully with crowbars to release the two men, Thady Boy and Abernaci watched from above. Then, ‘Aweel,’ said Archie, pushing back his turban to scratch his bald head. ‘They’ll be some time at that. Come on away ben where it’s comfy. I hear you’re having a grand time playing Roi Ca’penny at Court.’ And firmly shutting the door of his