The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [114]
‘The Erring Nun Test? It wouldn’t work,’ Nicholas said. ‘No, I’m sorry. I must be light-headed. You want to see my safe conduct.’
‘Your safe conduct?’ said de Ribérac. He was peeling an apple.
‘A very explicit scar. Poor young Henry’s noble effort at murder. I’m sure Simon sent to ask what to do.’
The knife moved round and round. ‘A fabrication.’
‘Before witnesses?’ He found a stool and sat. There would be an attack. The vicomte liked inflicting pain, or else watching it.
‘What witnesses?’ Jordan said. ‘Adorne’s doctor, Adorne and his niece will hardly speak for you now. The man Roger is English and coercible. Your Julius may succumb to a brawl in the streets.’
It was surprising what he knew. ‘And Mistress Bel?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Lucia’s clucking hen you took roosting in Africa? See what a fine nest my daughter lies in,’ said Jordan, ‘through the efforts of Bel of Cuthilgurdy. She may have been soft with you once, but she will perjure what soul she has to save Henry.’
‘Assuming all five to be perjured or dead, then indeed there is no case against Henry. How may I help you?’ said Nicholas.
‘With a little information,’ said Jordan. ‘What news of this child of my line? Is the new infant born?’
‘Pray that it isn’t,’ said Nicholas. ‘If it comes now, too soon, it will die. Or so the doctors are saying.’
‘Too soon?’
‘It isn’t due until April. You know that, my lord. And child and mother are feeble.’
Jordan laid down the fruit. ‘We both know it is overdue now. We both know it is Simon’s. It must be born. Why are you lying? You are not fool enough to think Simon will claim it?’
Nicholas stared at him. ‘But the father is Diniz!’ he said. The man turned crimson. Nicholas waited for the knife, or the wine, or the apple. Or a call for the bullies.
‘My dear boy!’ Jordan said. By sheer will-power, it appeared, his florid skin was reduced, his eyes gleaming. ‘My congratulations! So confident, and only yesterday full of terror! You speak of Diniz and Tilde, whose mediocre union will no doubt produce another mediocre child, should this one fail. I speak of your wife. What is the glorious news?’
Nicholas pursed his lips. ‘She is reluctant to say.’
‘But she has given birth?’
Nicholas pulled a doleful face. ‘I have seen her. She is no longer pregnant. Not pregnant, that is. But whether a child has been born, she won’t say.’
Jordan wiped his lips slowly, leaning back. ‘But you would not have returned without forcing an answer. And if you did not, I shall, be quite sure.’
‘If you find out, you must tell me … Do you want that apple?’ Nicholas said, leaning over and taking it. ‘I heard she had no child, an idiot, or a son. I couldn’t tell you which was correct. What does it matter, if you don’t mean to claim it?’
‘Do you?’ the vicomte said.
‘It is her child,’ Nicholas said. ‘I don’t mind fattening it. Life is sober enough: there is always room for a jest. Especially against the van Borselen. I shall cook and eat it next year.’
‘What do you want?’ Jordan de Ribérac said.
‘From you? Kilmirren,’ said Nicholas. ‘Then Ribérac. Then an apology.’
‘I am not Simon,’ said Simon’s father. ‘Simon does not know when to apologise. I do not know what the word means. You were responsible for the death of my daughter. You attempted the murder of Simon, and no doubt will try it again. Are you prepared also to kill Simon’s two sons?’
‘If you want me to,’ Nicholas said. ‘Certainly, there is no great enthusiasm for Henry, and the new child, if it exists, is from the same stable.’ He remained grave.
Jordan de Ribérac was not smiling. He said, ‘Your death would solve all these problems.’
‘Would it?’ Nicholas said. ‘My fortune descends to Gelis van Borselen and her child. The Duke of Burgundy would take great care that it never left Flanders. Apart, that is, from the portion already invested in Scotland.’
‘A few houses?’ said de Ribérac. ‘The King would soon reclaim those.’
‘My land next to Kilmirren?’ Nicholas said. ‘Gelis and