The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [160]
“I think,” said de Camulio, “that you should refrain from worrying. The English war is favouring the Dauphin’s side and not his father’s. Your greatest misfortune, so far as I see it, is that before you can get there, poor King Charles will have gambled away all his money.”
Gregorio recalled Adorne’s view of this delegation, quartering Europe for troops and money to drive back the Ottoman armies. He said to Alighieri, “You don’t in fact expect France to pay for a crusade at this moment?”
Alighieri said, “Speaking personally, I don’t expect anyone to pay for a crusade until the English war is settled, and even later. They all have enemies enough of their own without looking beyond Christian lands.”
Gregorio said, “The Order of the Golden Fleece was founded to clear the holy places of the East. I remember, even from Padua, hearing of the feasts that were held, and the vows taken.”
De Camulio, unsure of him, nodded. “The Vow of the Pheasant, seven years ago. They could have chosen the Peacock, the Heron, the Swan of Lohengrin to swear upon. The Phasianus, the bird of Colchis, matched the Duke’s theme. The Duke’s obsession, as I hear it. As Jason went forth to achieve his impossible task, so the heroes of today would free the Holy Land from the heathens who hold it. Everyone remembers, of course, the cost of the tournaments, and the fact that nothing happened. But indeed it might have done, but for unrest at home. Some of these men did, on their own account, cross the sea and lay down their lives for the Faith.”
“All rulers understand that,” said Alighieri. “So does the Church. Even the Observatines vowed to personal poverty, who send out delegations such as mine.”
De Camulio said, “But one accepts, too, that there are other reasons. You, sir, are a merchant. Trade needs peace. Traders for that reason often make the best envoys, and no one will blame them if they make some profit out of their journeyings. The Golden Fleece came into being from the highest of motives, but it serves other purposes.”
And that was true, Gregorio thought. It represented the Duke’s dramatic retribution for the capture of his father, long ago, by the Turks. It displayed the Duke’s wealth and his power and his magnificence, so that the common herd might be proud to call themselves Burgundians. It bound the princes from all the different lands he had swallowed; and gave them a feeling of comradeship and pride in being consulted.
As for the high motives, they could have little outlet just now. In secret session tomorrow, the Order would talk of a holy war, but inconclusively, one had to suspect. The rest was more like the business of some jousting society. A mild inquisition into the moral condition of every knight, with amusing punishments for amusing faults—although sometimes the Duke would use the occasion to force disgrace upon someone who deserved it. Then the casting of votes to fill the places of those recently dead, followed by the induction of the new knights and the presentation of the fiery Collar to each. Gregorio wondered, listening to de Camulio, why he had troubled to find out so much. Perhaps he thought the Duke of Milan ought to have been proposed for membership, or his son Galeazzo. But the Order was drawn from French-speaking Flanders and the two Burgundies, not from friends of Milan. Which might, in itself, explain the diplomat’s interest.
Gregorio said, “I hear Louis de Gruuthuse made a brilliant embassy to Scotland early this year. Carried the Duke’s condolences to his niece on the death of King James; met the new youthful sovereign; encouraged the Dowager Queen to think again before supporting the French king and the Lancastrians. Such a man, would you say, deserves the highest accolade his ruler can offer?”
Prosper de Camulio smiled. “You too have seen the size of the house Louis de Gruuthuse has rented. Yes, my friend. It is no secret, I think, that by the end of tomorrow, the Golden