The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [30]
Julius felt himself flushing, but drew in breath, hard, through his nostrils. He said, “I’m going to ruin the company, am I not? So is Nicholas, but we always said we could control him. Or if we couldn’t, we’d leave. I think he’s more in control than I want him to be. I think I’m getting out.”
The chaplain spoke. Whatever he said, irritatingly, his voice remained melodious. He said, “That would indeed ruin the company, I should think, just at this juncture. I am sure Nicholas will not make the point, so I will. We must appear undivided. Could you not see your way to…to deferring your departure for a week or so?”
“Until we’re at sea,” Tobie said. His voice sounded odd. “Far at sea, Julius. Then if you want to leave, we’ll all help you.”
Julius realised the sound he heard was Nicholas trying not to laugh. He looked at Father Godscalc and saw him suspiciously compressing his lips. Tobie suddenly let out a chirrup. Tobie exploding always sounded like one of his retorts on the boil. Tobie said, “Who was she, my boy? We loved the solemn confession. A better house, a servant, some good wine…the mortal sin of the dice. My son, you have sinned. Get thee to hell, eating black bread and yesterday’s mince with the devils. But what didn’t we hear? Go on. You owe us all something. Blow by blow, what did you spend all that money on?”
An austere man would have nursed his anger and held out. Julius, who was still, in his soul, half a student, stared at his colleagues and then unclosed his fists. “Oh well, you can imagine,” he said. “There was this place where the cook had some dice. I told you about it. I didn’t say it was me. It was incredible. It was truly incredible. We used to meet…”
They ended up rather drunk in a tavern. Gently maudlin, Julius allowed himself to be led back to Monna Alessandra’s austere house and laid in his room by the chaplain and Tobie. On the way back to the parlour and Nicholas, Godscalc slowed down and halted the other man. “Before we go in. Who is Simon?”
“Who?” said Tobie.
Godscalc, who was merely mellow, repeated himself. “A kinsman of Nicholas?”
“Oh, that!” Tobie said. “Simon de St Pol. Landed. Wealthy. A merchant. Splits his time between Scotland and Bruges. Nicholas was brought up to think him his father. Instead, it turned out he was just the wife’s bastard. My lord Simon disapproves deeply of Nicholas and threatened to ruin his business. That’s why Nicholas is here, and not in Bruges nursing his marriage. Pity Ludo the Goodo hadn’t found out about that. It wouldn’t have mattered to anyone.”
“Except Nicholas?” Godscalc said.
But instead of replying, the doctor merely pulled the cap from his head by one lappet and, entering the parlour, waved the object at Nicholas. Round his heated bald head, the fine, light hair was damp as a cat’s. He said, “And which of my weaknesses, dear bastard apprentice, do you plan to turn to your purpose? I’m afraid Father Godscalc has none.”
In tribute, Nicholas contorted the lower half of his face. “I’m sure I’ll find something,” he said. He was pulling notes out of his satchel and scattering them prodigally over a table. His face was pink.
“It won’t last, the contrition, you know,” Tobie said. “And Julius doesn’t like being scolded by juniors. Even by senior juniors.” He sat in the windowseat.
“So that’s why you’ll do it in future,” Nicholas said. “You or whoever he goes to. Weren’t you listening back there?”
“Am I your catshpaw?” said Tobie.
“Yesh,” said Nicholas. He found what he was looking for, unfolded and smoothed it, and then held it out to the doctor. “And that’s your reward in advance. Second column on the…”
“…left; third down,” said Tobie incomprehensibly. “You bastard. I couldn’t get anyone to sell me one.”
“What is it?” said Godscalc with interest. For a big man, he sat down like an athlete.
“Instructions on how to spend annates,” said Nicholas. “Father, this afternoon you matriculated in clerical cunning. I hope it brought its own satisfaction, because I don’t know how else to thank you.”
“Godscalc and I find you fascinating,