The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [195]
‘You could pray,’ said the priest.
John said, ‘You could pray with him. The rod could be blessed. Surely this is a life-giving mystery, not an evil one. Confined to the wilds of the mountains it threatens no one; no one but our employers will know of it. You have faith. You have studied the God-given stores that lie under the ground. You must believe this miraculous key to their whereabouts will do nothing but good?’
There was no need, really, for Nicholas to speak any more. Between then and their audience with the Duchess Eleanor, John did all the persuading for him.
Hence, when in due course they took their places before her, the Duchess Eleanor was pleased to learn that the discreet use of the divining-rod, closely supervised by Mother Church, had been added to the services the Bank was about to propose. They discussed these in detail, and also their journey to her castle of Brixen, and the explorations they would make in the south. What that entailed was left unspoken.
The discussion reverted last of all to the Duke, and the strategy to be followed (the word was not used) when the lord of the Tyrol finally summoned them. ‘It may not be,’ said the Duchess, ‘for a week or two. He is in a district he especially favours, and the hunting is good. Also, he has business to transact with some broker. You may know him. A man called Martin, representing the Vatachino company of merchants.’
She was sewing again. The silence was quite brief. Nicholas said, ‘Our paths cross, from time to time. In fact, the Vatachino interests coincide sometimes with ours.’
‘So Master Cavalli was saying. He is with the Duke,’ said the Duke’s lady. ‘He knows my mind. He will see that nothing is settled unwisely.’
She laid down her needle, licked her finger and, reaching for a new length of yarn, picked up the needle and forcibly fed it. When she held the thread taut, the needle hung like a very thin poacher. She looked up and smiled.
‘So,’ she said, ‘you must be glad that you have something unique to offer as well. A cup of wine, now, to help the three of you sleep on it?’
The wine proved to be ordinary and Nicholas, who had refused it, felt cheated. Back in their room, John le Grant manufactured outrage by the bale.
‘I thought she said she didn’t know where the Duke was? The hunting is good. I’ll wager it is. I wager she knows every mistress and every bastard; we’ll probably find half of them guests at Brixen. But the bitch! Not telling us …’
They had been over it five times already. ‘… Not telling us about the Vatachino,’ Nicholas supplied. ‘Well, there’s a lot we didn’t tell her. And she says they won’t have concluded a deal. And I believe her.’
‘Yes! Because now she knows our terms, she’ll use that to push down –’
‘John?’ said Father Moriz from his pallet. ‘Could we have some rest, do you think? It has been a long day.’
It had. A day Nicholas would rather not have had. No. One did not run away, however devastating the revelation had been. John had been partly right. It was loss of personal control that he feared; and the happenings today, part illusion, part reality, had combined two manifestations of it. He had not wanted to go on.
Well, now he was compelled to. And although he had tried to deny they existed, he had early started to realise that he would have to confront the episodes in his life he did not understand, and try to deal with them.
He did not envisage switching from numbers to prayers, but need not say so. Like John, he wanted Father Moriz to stay. It occurred to him that Father Moriz had a very good idea to what degree his various skills and doctrines were held in esteem. It further occurred to him that Father Moriz was bent on changing those proportions, and very likely had had no intention of leaving at all. This German was a man of conviction. One did not have to make allowances for Father Moriz.
John, half undressed, was still up and still talking. Nicholas slammed over and struck out the light. There was an astonished roar.
He wished he had taken the wine.
The castle of Brixen, when