The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [19]
A child, hitherto unnoticed, rose from the ground by the chair and pointing a stabbing finger at the controlling member of the Charetty company, said, “That’s him! He did it!”
The child was a boy, aged between four and five and attractive enough, with fair hair curling under his cap and a pinafore of some fine material over his dress. He was glaring at Nicholas.
Nicholas said, “You got knots in it.” The words made no sense, nor did he say them with respect, deference or even cajolery. Julius had heard him use the same tone of affectionate exasperation to Monna Alessandra’s unfortunate water-boy.
The child said, “I didn’t.”
Julius stood very still, and so did Tobie beside him. The lord of Florence stirred in his pontifical chair. He said, “My grandchild lies, Messer Niccolò. He got knots in it. You are here to correct him.”
“Well, that’s soon done,” said Nicholas cheerfully. “Show me.”
Beside him, Julius could see Tobie’s feet, in their best boots, unmoving. He dared not look at his face. He stood still while Nicholas made his way towards the child and, reducing himself to a crouch, remained bouncing a little beside him. His hands hung inward over his knees and his round face, with its vast eyes, looked friendly. The child held out a hand. In it was a replica of the wooden toy Monna Alessandra had burned.
Tobie grunted. Nicholas, without turning, said, “I made two. Where’s the cord?”
The voice of Cosimo de’ Medici said from above him, “The child’s tutor, a man of small faith, excised it.”
Nicholas, fishing in his purse, had already produced another. The cord, no doubt, of the lost plaything. Julius studied the toy, cut like the first from fine wood, and with the shape of two solid mushrooms placed stem to stem. Nicholas took it from the child’s hand, and then knotted and wound all the cord round the waist of the object, leaving free the last foot, and a loop. He hooked a finger into the loop, and let the object lie in his hand. “What did I say?” he said to the child. His eyes crinkled.
Unexpectedly, the child smiled in return. He said. “Do it smoothly.”
“You remembered,” said Nicholas. “Everyone gets it tangled up the first time. Shall I show you?”
The voice from the chair spoke. “Never mind showing him,” said Cosimo de’ Medici, “I wish you to show me. I am told that Euclid would weep from jealousy.”
“I could make Euclid one of his own,” Nicholas said.
Julius closed his eyes.
Nicholas said, “Meanwhile, there is no need for weeping, provided we all watch very carefully. For example…”
Julius opened his eyes.
The old man had lifted an eyebrow. Nicholas was getting up, his eyes on the child, and the child’s face, uplifted, was shining. Nicholas stood. With dramatic slowness he curled the object up to his shoulder. With dramatic suddenness he unbent his arm and cast the object flying away. The cord, unreeling, hissed. The object described a miraculous loop and returned to him. He caught it. Still smiling at the child, he opened his hand to the floor. The object unreeled, and then rose to his hand and then dropped again. He kept it rising and falling. Then he threw it outwards again and, instead of catching it, flicked his wrist so that it made first one loop, then a series. He caught it. The child cried, “Make it walk!”
Julius risked a glance at Tobie. Tobie was wearing a look of contempt, which was reassuring. Cosimo de’ Medici said, “Yes. Make it walk, Messer Niccolò. It cannot also speak?”
Nicholas, ending a sudden sharp movement, smiled without looking up. The object spun at the end of the cord. He lowered it bit by bit down to the floor where, of its own accord, it started to run off ahead of him. He followed it a little way, the child jumping around him, and arriving before the pole-chair allowed the thing to run up its cord to his hand. He said, “It is called a farmuk, my lord; and of course it speaks.”
The child said, “It doesn’t!”
The old man looked at him. “Ah, Cosimino, but it does. It speaks to grown men. One day it will