The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [22]
Then he had reappeared in Bruges with an entourage of new and highly trained followers, and had commanded Julius to come with him to Scotland.
The merits of such an expedition were reasonably obvious. The master of the Banco di Niccolò had not, as yet, visited the agency opened for him in Scotland, or studied how to exploit and protect it. Added to which, the fair Gelis van Borselen had once been an attendant of Mary, the King’s married sister, and a bridal visit to Scotland should please her. Except, of course, that Nicholas had come to Scotland and Gelis had stayed at home.
‘A pity,’ explained vander Poele cordially now, between the laden dishes at Master Lamb’s table in Leith. ‘Did I not threaten her with divorce? But the Duchess had commanded her presence, and you don’t have to remind a van Borselen how important the English may be to a Bank. Gelis went with the Duchess, for my sake. But I expect her to join me.’
His voice expressed simple confidence. Anselm Adorne said kindly, ‘I am sure that she will. I expect she writes to you daily. You will have more news from Bruges than I do.’
‘Not unless it’s coming by pigeon,’ Nicholas said. ‘Ships are slow in bad weather. But I hope to hear from her soon.’
Julius continued to eat without catching anyone’s eye. Ships from the south had been remarkably frequent that autumn. He himself dealt with the numberless packets which managed to find their way post-haste to Nicholas from Venice and Florence, Rome and Catalonia; the letter-bags arriving from Bruges with the familiar superscriptions of friends and colleagues and – over and over again – Gregorio’s fierce legal script. Julius had read them all. And among them had been no message from Gelis van Borselen.
Albany, leaning forward, broke in. ‘Can your wife swim? Who taught you?’
Of course, the King’s brother knew Gelis from childhood. Nicholas said, ‘My lord Admiral, I shall try her in water as soon as may be: up to the present I had not thought to ask. I was taught to swim by a black man. He is dead, but there are plenty of others.’
‘You will teach me,’ said Albany.
‘Why, tonight, if you like,’ Nicholas said. ‘We can light a bonfire. Once you have learned, we can play tzukanion in the water.’
Albany’s officer Liddell exclaimed, and Albany’s voice rose, overriding others. Guests’ faces turned, including that of Adorne’s athletic niece Katelijne, her long, sticky hair in a caul. Beside her, Julius saw, were one or two sturdy figures he recognised from among the golfers. Adorne said, ‘Is vander Poele drunk?’
‘No,’ said Julius. It was true, and untrue. Returned from the sea, they had all been served with spiced wine, as promised. All except Nicholas, who had been drunk on nothing but water since Bruges. Julius added, ‘You know his style.’
‘I knew his style, if you could call it that, at eighteen,’ Adorne said. ‘But nine years later, I expected maturity.’
‘Surplus energy,’ Julius said. ‘He has a lot to spare, now the feud with Simon is over.’
‘It is over?’ said Adorne.
Nicholas was smiling, a danger sign. He appeared, however, to be listening to Will Roger, the man they all called Whistle Willie, who had come to lean, sent by Albany, at his shoulder. His green doublet was a mess. Julius turned his back. ‘The feud?’ he said to Adorne. ‘Of course it’s over. It finished in Bruges. Simon and Jordan are of no interest to Nicholas now. He doesn’t even use the name vander Poele any more.’
‘Why?’ said Adorne.
‘Because I thought it sounded vulgar,’ Nicholas said. He had been listening. The whistler had gone.
Adorne said, ‘It has earned more honours now than the name of St Pol. You know Simon is at Kilmirren?’
‘And his father,’ Nicholas said. He speared a fig and regarded it.
‘The vicomte? How do you know?’
‘It rained frogs in Kilmarnock, and the monks’ wine in Paisley turned sour. The vicomte is undoubtedly there. In fact, I trust I shall meet him in Edinburgh. Cry the peace of the fair: we’re all merchants, we ought to be friendly. You’re here to patch up the Scots’ trade in Bruges?’
‘If I can. Why are you