The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [28]
The vicomte did not blink. He said, ‘The King of Scotland is young.’
‘The King of Scotland is sixteen. His advisers are not. The Court, as you must know, is better regulated than its lack of functionaries might suggest, although it has to contend with youthful exuberance. The rulers of this kingdom will not be influenced by an outsider. And his army, you must know, is fighting for the Duke of Burgundy on the borders of France. Captain Astorre will not lightly give up that contract, which in turn relies on the presence of the House of Niccolò in Bruges. I am not going to hurry vander Poele home, even for you. He is not at present even trading.’
‘Then why is he here?’ de Ribérac said. ‘Apart, that is, from treating the place as a brothel? No wench, no lady, no burgher’s daughter, I am told, is safe from his attentions.’
Anselm said coolly, ‘Of that, I know nothing. He came here, I assume, to offer his services as a banker, a merchant, a dealer. He has been asked, I believe, to help direct the royal Christmas and wedding festivities.’
‘I could understand it,’ said the vicomte, ‘were his own marriage not so very recent and so hastily consummated. His wife, they say, has left the Duchess’s court for the country.’
‘I have heard nothing of it,’ said Adorne. This time, it was not quite the truth. According to Julius the lawyer, Nicholas had had enough of black girls, and now was bent on a little variety. Gelis (he had remarked) wasn’t a nun. Nicholas and she seemed a good enough match: Julius hadn’t heard that they’d tired of each other. They were, the Lord knew, the most pig-headed pair Julius had ever encountered, but if there had been anything wrong, Nicholas was the sort who would have gone back and settled it. Which he hadn’t. Which meant there was nothing.
Adorne had listened and nodded, since nodding was cheap. To de Ribérac now he spoke mildly. ‘I can only tell you what everyone knows: that vander Poele and his wife were already close long before marriage. Hence a parting such as this, beneficial to business, might be tolerated if not welcomed by both.’
‘So they are still fond, you are saying? And this exhibition of lust is merely the result of a cruel deprivation? It is a theory,’ de Ribérac said. ‘I must bring Simon to Court, and see if he cannot advise vander Poele in his predicament. It is an area in which he is well qualified to a fault. And one of your sons is here? Maarten is now at St Andrews?’
The inquisition took a different course. Adorne bore it all with undisturbed candour. His son was indeed to study under the Bishop. His niece Katelijne was likewise happy in her royal post, so like that of her cousin in England – a symmetry which did not need again to be stressed. The conversation faded; the vicomte was rising when the door opened on Dr Andreas.
The two men had never met face to face. It was surprising, therefore, that the physician should halt on the threshold, and that the fat man should markedly pause before completing the movement that brought him upright. Adorne presented them to each other.
The vicomte’s greeting was cursory. The doctor ventured to add a remark. ‘You have a grandson, Diniz Vasquez, monseigneur?’
‘According to Simon my son,’ said Jordan de St Pol, ‘I have several.’ He began to walk to the door.
‘No,’ said Dr Andreas. ‘By him, monseigneur, you have only one.’
The vicomte turned. ‘You have private information? I am fascinated. Or I hear that you study the stars? Tell me more.’
‘I know no more,’ said Dr Andreas. ‘But perhaps that is enough.’
‘Well, certainly, it is good news,’ said the vicomte reflectively. ‘Indeed, you must inform Master Henry de St Pol, when he is older. He, too, will be relieved. Meanwhile, I suggest that other parts of the firmament might prove more rewarding than the area that shines