The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [122]
Next day, the ride to the convent was easy. The Bank supplied Nicholas with his liveried escort, and the gates were set wide in broad daylight. While his men remained below, the Abbess escorted him mirthfully to the upper chambers. ‘She is in bed, in case she is spied upon. So anxious for your good name! And her family are coming to visit her?’
‘Her family will join her tomorrow. And the boy? Is he here?’
He knew the look now; the sliding, flickering glance. The Abbess said, ‘But you know better than that! The babe and his nurse are not here. But they are safe! He flourishes! I am told a beautiful child, like his father!’
‘You reassure me,’ said Nicholas.
Gelis was in bed, it was true, and alone. Margot’s room, its door open, stood empty. No eavesdropping today.
It wasn’t worth saying. Nothing much was. He saw, approaching the bed, how much time and money had been spent on the room since he saw it. The bed-frame had been changed for one of walnut, carved and painted, and the hangings were of striped voile caught back by silk and gold tassels. The towels, thick and fringed, hung by a basin and pitcher of silver, and the cushions and stools were all new, and covered with tapestry. On the table next to her bed stood a clock. When the lord of Veere came, and her cousin Wolfaert, they would find her wealthy and cherished. Even beautiful. The twilled hair lay loose upon pale embroideries; the pillows behind her were silk. Her skin was smooth; her lips soft. Round her throat she wore aquamarines, the precise icy hue of her eyes.
‘Your birth-gift,’ she said. ‘I sent away for them. The cloak, although fine, was second-hand.’
‘I thought it appropriate,’ he said.
‘Oh dear,’ Gelis said. ‘Well, shall we begin again, or somehow continue from there? We have a lot to discuss.’
‘You disagree with my plans,’ Nicholas said. He had worked out what she must know: about Lucia; about Simon; about Henry. About Adorne by now. His thinking today was exceptionally clear: he wished Tobie could have been present.
She said, ‘You did get my letter?’
‘A landmark: I was touched. You didn’t mention coming to Scotland.’
‘Yes, that does remind me,’ she said. ‘I meant to discuss that as well. I don’t think you should go back to Scotland. And, of course, you can’t expect me to preside over the mortification or worse of my baby’s father.’
‘It might tickle your fancy,’ he said. ‘But in fact the prospect doesn’t arise. Simon has fled the country, with Henry. By fat paternal command, I imagine.’
Her forefinger moved on the coverlet. ‘So he has conceded defeat. Lucia is dead. The score is settled?’
‘With my accepted son and heir christened Jordan? How, incidentally, do you mean to explain that away?’
She thought. After a moment she said, ‘Motherly sentiment? A loving attempt to heal your estrangement?’ She cleared her throat.
‘It is still going to appear very odd,’ Nicholas said. ‘When the score is settled, that is. I hoped you would consent to come to Scotland for that. The mortification or worse of the old man. You don’t like him especially? That is, you only borrowed his name in the cause of our present skirmish?’
She said, ‘Is that what it is?’
‘Well, it can’t be war: people get killed in war. So you’ll come to Scotland?’
‘Of course I won’t,’ Gelis said. ‘I don’t like Simon’s father: I loathe him. But I won’t help you attack him.’
‘Or watch me? You won’t take responsibility for your own actions? You started this,’ Nicholas said.
‘Then punish me,’ she replied.
‘All right. Come to Scotland,’ he said.
‘But promise to leave them alone. Jordan and Simon.’
‘Simon has gone. You are saying you would rather I attacked you than Jordan?’
‘If you can.’
‘Oh, I can,’ Nicholas said. ‘As it happens, I can gratify Jordan and settle your score in one stroke. He has asked me to sell him the child.’
Once before he had seen her like that, her skin tallow-white but for a rash of stark colour. He waited comfortably, hitched on a ledge, his hands loosely clasped, his eyes unforgiving. There was no one within call.
It lasted quite a short