The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [184]
She knew about the old hag. That is, she had heard from Monna Alessandra Macinghi negli Strozzi that her son Lorenzo was seeking a bride. He had the pleasure therefore of telling her that the lord Piero de’ Medici had honoured both himself and Lorenzo by directing them to take in marriage two maidens of the same parentage.
‘You and Lorenzo are to marry sisters? How delightful!’ said Gelis van Borselen. ‘Tell me immediately.’
One did not trust the enthusiasm. One gave oneself the satisfaction, none the less, of describing one’s angelic bride: the maiden Maria, daughter of Ser Piero’s friend Francesco Bandini Baroncelli.
‘Bandini?’ said his hostess.
He did not allow his smile to diminish. Pierantonio Bandini Baroncelli was head of the Pazzi, his most serious competitors for alum in Bruges. It was the Medici way, to knit together rivals in marriage. He said, ‘I am overwhelmed by the honour. Lorenzo as well. Monna Alessandra was speechless. My dear Maria will join me next year.’
‘Next year?’ said Gelis van Borselen.
He said, ‘I have to go back to Bruges after the marriage. Almost at once. It is sad.’
‘Tommaso?’ said Gelis van Borselen. ‘How old is your wife?’
‘By next year? She will be turned fully fourteen,’ said Tommaso Portinari. ‘I know I may count on you to make her welcome in Flanders. Our children will grow up together.’
She gazed at him in the considering way he disliked. She said, ‘You are sailing back with your ships?’
He realised she meant the Burgundian galleys. He said, ‘No. They left Civitavecchia five days ago, laden with Tolfa alum.’ It had been a small precaution, in case Piero had had some idea of cancelling them. Or even promising them for some crusade.
She said, ‘They have sailed? They are not returning to Porto Pisano?’
He was surprised by her tone. He said, ‘By now, most ships have sailed. It is the season. I doubt if you would find any galley still there save, perhaps, the Ferrandina. The King of Naples has sent word to hold her.’
‘But the Santa Reparata is there,’ she remarked.
He was further intrigued. ‘You may be right. My captain did say that all the lesser galleys had left. But I could send, if you wish it, to confirm. You had some goods on that ship?’
Her eyes were a thin shade of blue. Nordic blue. She said, ‘A berth. I am here to accompany my husband to Alexandria.’
‘But if the ship has sailed …’ said Tommaso.
‘He will take space on another,’ she said.
There wasn’t another. He didn’t say so. He said, ‘Demoiselle … Did monsieur your husband arrange to meet you in Florence?’
She looked at him. She said, ‘We had no assignation. But – you will discover – marriage thrives on delightful surprises. He does not know I am waiting to join him.’
‘You should have told him,’ said Tommaso Portinari, sounding grave. ‘Alas, demoiselle, your husband is not coming to Florence. If he meant to sail on the Santa Reparata, he must have changed his plans many weeks since. The Medici have been informed not to expect him.’
There was a little silence. ‘Where is he?’ she said.
‘At this moment? Precisely where, I gather, even his Bank does not know. His route was not predetermined. And, of course, winter is now coming on. Once the snow blocks the passes, the Duchy of the Tyrol is sealed.’
‘The Tyrol?’ she exclaimed.
‘The Alpine range south of Augsburg. The mountainous country that divides the Germanies from the Italian peoples. Your husband has gone to do business with Duke Sigismond in person. So reports say. I wish him every luck.’
She said, ‘I was to meet him in Venice, in spring.’
‘Then I am sure he will do his best to be there.’ He spoke in his dulcet court voice.
Her predicament did not displease him. The Tyrol was a spendthrift Imperial duchy whose native resources