Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [184]
Perhaps she remembered. There was a long silence. Then she said, ‘I think you did. There was a woman in Brittany who suspected it. Antoinette de Maignélais, she was called. Is the name familiar? She was not unconnected, I think, with what happened to Jordan de Ribérac under the last King of France. His disgrace and exile, which seemed to suit you so well at the time. I am not surprised – I’m not wholly surprised that the seigneur de Ribérac has refused me a ransom. This family bears long-standing grudges. But anyway, what does it matter? Whether you knew you had succeeded or not, you married while I was in Brittany.’
Nothing would make him speak of Marian de Charetty. His eyes closed, and he made them re-open. He said, ‘I didn’t know of the child. It is all I can say to you.’
He saw her staring back. It seemed, for a moment, that something he said might have touched her. Then she sighed, and said, ‘Who else have you told?’
She had removed her gaze, turning a little; conveying the close of the matter between them. With a glance at Nicholas, Tobie took over the answering. He said, ‘No one. What he says is the truth. We learned of it, Godscalc and myself, by pure accident.’
She said, ‘But when will there be another accident? He is prone to fever. What future will Henry have then?’
Tobie said, ‘What do you want him to do? Drop dead for something that isn’t his fault? It takes two to make a son, demoiselle.’ He sounded angry, which was unfair on Katelina.
Nicholas, who realised his head was about to explode, nevertheless saw the humour in this, and thought he ought to explain it. He said, ‘Tobie! Don’t be silly. You’ve always believed to the depths of your soul that I plotted it all. Of course I did. A bastard for Simon. Luxurious exile for David of Trebizond. St Hilarion at all costs for Zacco. And the events of today for us all, loving scions of a fortunate family. Who says I can’t plan?’ His heart ran like a wheel out of gear, and his senses screwed themselves to a pitch that made his breath falter. It seemed to him, from limited experience, that there was a certain finality about the situation. He said, ‘I think the future may be safe from me after all.’
An angry voice spoke from the doorway. It said, ‘Is this the talk of a man, or shall I take your doctors away? A man values his life, and thinks it worth fighting for.’
Zacco, straight from the banquet. In gold and jewels, ermine and satin he stood on the threshold, tall and glaring. Through darkening eyes, Nicholas witnessed a new and complex situation appear, over which he could have no control. With infinite weariness, he watched it develop. Katelina turned, her exhausted face pale with astonishment. Tobie flushed. He said, ‘My lord King, he has no wish to die. And, God willing, we shall prevent it.’ Zacco stared at him and then, glittering, swept past and knelt at the bed.
His jewels flamed, but no one ever looked at them. Instead, like Tobie, like Katelina, like himself, those in Zacco’s presence were mesmerised by the enchanting, remarkable face. Today, its vitality was repressed; the brows drawn under the swathe of hair that had fallen, again, from the cap of state he still wore. His warm hands closed about the cold fingers of Nicholas and he held them, gazing in silence.
Nicholas did not speak, but kept his eyes open. Across Zacco’s face passed the shadows of many thoughts, bringing him, presently, to some resolve. He released one of his hands and leaned forward. The light dimmed. There was a smell of soaps, and furs, and a warm, clean humanity. Zacco’s lifted hand touched his lips, his temple, his hair; then closing, calmly descended. Nicholas felt his palm smooth his lids, closing them. Blessed darkness returned. The palm lay, flat and weightless, prohibiting