The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [104]
‘Nicholas?’
He looked up, still smiling.
The brown eyes frowned. The tonsure above was already shadowed with stubble, the tangled hair grey at each side. Godscalc said, ‘Do you want this second child? This child Gelis will give you?’
Nicholas said, ‘I want a family. I had none. Henry is seven. He will never be any man’s son now but Simon’s.’
‘You want a family by Gelis?’ Godscalc said.
‘I have no other wife. And many bedfellows, but no serious mistress. Ask Julius.’
‘There is seldom need,’ Godscalc said. ‘Answer me.’
‘I thought I had. Yes, I want a family by Gelis,’ said Nicholas. ‘There is no cause for concern. I have new business in Scotland, that’s all.’ He saw, reflected in Godscalc’s lined face, the weariness that had dogged him all day.
Godscalc said, ‘When did you last make confession?’
‘When did you last know whether I was telling the truth?’ Nicholas said. The words were tired, too.
Godscalc fell silent. Then he shifted his bulk in his chair as if his limbs pained him. He said, ‘Very well. I will not waste your time or mine. I have been entrusted with some information, to impart to you or not as I choose. You have not inspired me with confidence.’
‘I know,’ said Nicholas. If he could not be natural, he could be brief.
Godscalc said, ‘Nor are you helping me now. It is your strongest card, we both know, that absence of personal pleading. Moreover, a priest, like a doctor, can recognise a man who is spending more of himself than he has. You will not trust me with the cause, whatever it is?’
‘I conduct my own life,’ Nicholas said.
‘And you are managing so successfully?’ Godscalc said. Then he looked down and, with a half-smile, lifted his twisted hand in the air. ‘What right have I to say that? But for you, I should not be here.’
‘We have carried each other. You have nothing to thank me for,’ Nicholas said.
‘No?’ The priest let his palm fall on his lap as if it pained him. ‘But you lock me out all the same. I have a message for the Nicholas who almost died for me once. I have a message from Gelis.’
By thud of drum, word passed through the Sahel and into the blood. The ground throbbed like this, and the temples, from the blood beating its way through the body. Nicholas moved. He said, ‘Yes?’
Godscalc surely saw, but did not remark on it. He spoke dryly. ‘As you know, your child was conceived far too early. To me, the responsibility and the blame are both yours, but the girl feels she was thoughtless, and has caused you embarrassment, perhaps anger. I am to find out how you feel, and act accordingly. That is, I know where she is and am empowered, if it seems wise, to tell you.’
‘I knew it would be early.’ Nicholas said. ‘Is it born?’
‘That I have not been told. But you will be able to see for yourself,’ Godscalc said. ‘Of course, you will be discreet. She does not want the world to know. I have told no one.’
‘Not even Tobie?’ he said.
‘I have told no one. It is for you and for her to make what announcement you please. She will know by now you are here. I suggest you set out tomorrow. It will take you four hours to ride there, and I have had to promise that you will go alone. She has written the name of the convent.’
‘Tomorrow?’ said Nicholas.
‘The day after your arrival. It is what she suggested. You are thinking of Diniz? I shall tell him some white lie, as priests can. He can meet de Ribérac and talk of his mother without you. He knows the circumstances of her death. Julius told him.’
‘If you think so,’ said Nicholas. He sat for a bit while Godscalc was trying to open his purse; then, leaning over, helped him politely.
The paper inside was from Gelis. It was much folded and creased, but the writing on it was bold and familiar with no trace of weakness; the first of hers he had seen since they parted. It contained only four lines: the address of a convent, and the bald directions for finding it. The covering letter was absent and, on reflection, he did not press to see it. He could imagine what it contained.
He did not have to set his men to harrying nunneries.