The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [269]
‘Tobie removed her,’ said the other man.
‘You are right to give him the credit,’ Adorne said. ‘Now I have something to tell you. When you were a boy and transgressed, you were punished. I am not your magistrate now, but I do have some power. In particular, I have the power to have you arraigned for attempting to kill me in Scotland. I am proposing to use it.’
The other man’s face didn’t change. It had shown no alteration from the beginning. He said, ‘You have the right.’
Adorne felt himself frown. He said, ‘Do you understand what I am saying? When we both return to Bruges, I shall lay formal complaint against you both there and in Scotland. I do not need to tell you what will follow, unless something occurs which forces me to change my mind.’ Exasperation suddenly seized him. He said, ‘What delusions are you labouring under, Nicholas? You have proved yourself capable, able to generate wealth, able to take part in the world’s affairs. Is that not enough? I have enjoyed our duel, so far as it went, but need you press it further?’
The anger was against himself, as much as anyone. Obedient, patiently standing, the image he saw insistently before him was that of Claes vander Poele, the submissive, sweet-natured youth he had known.
Nicholas de Fleury said, ‘So far as it went?’
Adorne sighed. He said, ‘Sit. Of course you are gifted. Of course you have used those quick wits to master every opportunity that appears. But every man has his limits. You must recognise yours. You came to Scotland. You befriended the King’s sister Mary. You persuaded her to flee with her husband to me, so that her land would fall vacant, and I should lose face. But what happens?’
‘Tell me,’ said the other. It sounded flat.
‘Do I need to? My credence with the King was always bound to be greater than yours. In your absence, the land fell to me. With a change in the English wars, the Lancastrians challenged York, and the Duke of Burgundy thought it politic to favour both sides, and was not displeased that I should shelter Thomas Boyd. And the King of Scotland, anxious for his sister, rewarded me for protecting her. While I,’ Adorne said, ‘thought it wise – and was given leave – to absent myself from my house for as long as Boyd and the Princess were staying there. A situation which, in the long run, has not turned out to your advantage. But I am not to blame.’
‘I see that. It is my fault that you are following me,’ the other said.
‘It is your lack of foresight,’ Adorne said without rancour. ‘Coupled with some ill luck. The death of your priest brought you from Scotland too soon. You were not to know, leaving Alexandria, that an Indian spice ship had reached Damietta and twenty thousand camels entered the city the day after you left it. We received harsh treatment, and for that you will pay. But there were some compensations,’ Adorne said, ‘before we were arrested.’
‘Then are we not even?’ said the other. If it sounded less than peaceable, the difference could hardly be named.
‘No, we are not,’ Adorne said. ‘You must learn. Or you will never know your proper place in society. So think of what I have said. Reconsider your plans. You have a good business in Bruges and in Venice; your associations in the Levant are recent and slight, as are your attempts to found a business in Scotland. I suggest you go back to Bruges. I even have something to tell you. It concerns Gelis, your wife.’
He had spoken briskly, because he was angry: he was dealing with a man, as he saw it, only four years older than his own son. When de Fleury said nothing, he looked at him and saw a face grown as blank as a shield.
Adorne said, still more crossly, ‘I am not taking some sort of revenge upon you. There is no positive news, but a fact of some relevance. While we were in Rome, a Scots orator expressed a wish to come with me to the Holy Land. He was delayed by business, so my ship sailed from Genoa without him. I have since learned that, disappointed, he then attempted the journey from Venice.’