The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [207]
‘It needs Whistle Willie,’ said the girl. ‘I can’t describe it. Not just his voice. But some people carry about music buried like that, Willie says. Sometimes no one ever knows that it’s there.’
‘Whistle Willie?’
‘Will Roger. You’ve heard of him.’ Katelijne was looking at her. The girl said, ‘Perhaps you haven’t had much time together. I’m sorry. Can I tell you anything more? He did miss you.’ She was eight years her junior and spoke as an equal. But this child had never shared a bed with Nicholas, nor thought of it. The girl said, ‘I do apologise for the parrot’s being so drunk. My cousins have been giving it wine, and it shows off.’
Gelis said, ‘Like my husband, it seems. I was glad when he came back from Scotland. We were all concerned over the quarrel he had with St Pol. Sometimes Nicholas loses his temper.’
The mouth gave itself a judicial screw. ‘He can be very silly,’ the girl said. ‘You must lose patience, too. The fight with M. de St Pol was quite unnecessary, and then he lost his head. My uncle was hurt. He didn’t plan that, but he made pretty sure that M. de St Pol was going to have an uncomfortable time in other ways. Did he tell you? About buying up Kilmirren land, and smothering his ground with corn-marigolds? Then later they found the Kilmirren hides stank, and the cows all gave diuretic milk?’ The girl’s face had turned pink. She said, ‘I’m sorry. It shouldn’t be funny.’
‘It sounds fairly typical,’ said Gelis dryly. ‘What would he have done had he been well?’
‘Oh,’ said Katelijne. She paused. ‘You know what happened? At Henry’s age, children are stupid. Your husband pretended thugs were responsible. M. de St Pol should be grateful, in spite of everything.’
‘Was he really hurt?’ Gelis said. ‘Nicholas?’
The direct eyes studied her again. ‘It was a knife wound close to the heart. You can’t blame the child,’ the girl said. ‘But Dr Andreas was concerned for a day or two. The shock to the body; the shock to the mind. But you know Dr Andreas.’
Gelis remembered Andreas of Vesalia. She said, ‘The shock to the mind?’
‘I don’t know what it means,’ Katelijne said. She seemed to hesitate. She said, ‘He thinks your husband has dreams.’ The parrot gabbled.
Gelis manufactured a smile. ‘Most people do.’
The girl was looking down. She said, ‘You don’t know Dr Andreas predicts the future? He studied at Louvain: he claims to recognise others who have the same arts, or are possessed of similar powers. He thinks your husband is one.’
Gelis said, ‘I have never known any man as earthily human as Nicholas.’ She spoke as to a child. The parrot squawked and spoke too.
‘I don’t understand either,’ said Katelijne. ‘But he went straight to the river. He found the body. He knew it was dead. And other things, Dr Andreas says. Was there a library, once, he was afraid of?’
Silence. Some little time later, Gelis realised she had not replied. She said, ‘I don’t remember. My dear Katelijne, I think both you and Dr Andreas attribute more to my husband than you should. He is in the Tyrol, engaged in some very unromantic commercial activities.’
‘Divining for silver?’ said the girl.
Gelis said, ‘Prospecting for silver, I’m sure. The divining, I am told, is in the hands of some charlatan or other who claims to be equipped to find anything.’
She stopped smiling, for the girl was looking at her strangely again. The girl said, ‘There was a diviner, but Cavalli said that he died. They were seeking another.’
Gelis said, ‘Katelijne! Are you well?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said the girl. The smile flashed. ‘Dame Margriet will tell you it’s time for my rest. I’m so glad you came. Will you wait? There’s some music Willie sent, and these notes, when you next see M. de Fleury …’
The door had opened and Anselm Adorne stood there smiling. ‘Katelijne, my dear. We must let Dame Gelis go.’
She went. The last thing she saw was the ferocious face of the child, brush in hand, eyes focused on the terrible cradle.
One week later Gregorio of Asti, called from the counting-house, entered his chamber and found there