The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [294]
Her tent was not far away: even when travelling in company, they slept in a circle round about their possessions, or their camel-drivers would steal what they had. And every day, whether they were in company or not, came the demands from the drovers which Brother Lorenzo dealt with so calmly. Demands for extra wheat for the flour they mixed to a paste on a sheepskin and cooked into cakes on turd fires; for cheese and raisins to buy the goodwill of (putative) robbers. Demands, of course, for more money, without which they would suddenly be reminded of an urgent appointment in Damietta.
And from today onwards, naturally, they would pretend – until Brother Lorenzo reminded them–to forget the way to St Catherine’s. Brother Lorenzo, with his firmness and his fine local Arabic, had saved them more than once when her uncle’s patience had given way.
Kathi worried about her uncle Anselm, as she supposed he was concerned about her. As their journey since Bruges had unfolded, marked by turbulent travel and indifferent food and the increasing strain of his responsibilities, she had watched him begin to lose the even temper and the suppleness of the jousting-saddle which had always been his. It made her angry, sometimes, that he had been forced to leave home. Or at least, had been put in such a position that he felt it advisable.
Sitting facing him now, she spoke, ashamed, in the dim light. ‘You are right. I am sorry. I don’t deserve that you brought me.’
He said, ‘I brought you because you wanted to come.’ He paused, and then said, ‘You have been in such high spirits. I should not chide you.’ Then he laughed and said, ‘Who taught you the song? Dr Tobias?’
She didn’t know he had heard. She had learned it in Scotland, and was teaching Lambert in secret.
Bon regime sanitatis
Pro vobis, neuf en mariage:
Ne de vouloirs effrenatis
Abusez nimis en mesnage;
Sagaciter menez l’ouvrage,
Ainsi fait homo sapiens,
Testibus les phisiciens.
The next verse was worse. She could only make her peace by answering what he really was saying. She said, ‘I was going to tell you.’
‘Ah,’ he said. He seemed to hold himself a little less stiffly. He said, ‘I should not make it more difficult for you. You have, I think, done your best in a conflict – in a conflict of interests in which you should not have been placed. We speak, I think, of Nicholas de Fleury. I do not want to hear what you should not say.’
‘He wouldn’t mind,’ Kathi said. ‘It was Dr Tobias who wrote to me. M. de Fleury has come to no harm, and will have left Cairo by now.’
His eyes were downbent; the light played upon his cracked lips. She wondered how long it was since he had sung, or touched the strings of a lute. He said, ‘I knew you wanted to come. Which of us did you think needed protection?’ He looked up. ‘No. I can guess. You didn’t tell me till now. So he, too, is on his way to St Catherine’s.’
It was not put as a question. She said, ‘You guessed?’
‘I was told.’ He did not say by whom. He said, ‘I am trying not to harm him, Katelijne. It is difficult. I have a great stake in Scotland. Your brother is at Court. England is still in a turmoil; the Knights of St John are suffering; my house is suffering. And there are interests you know nothing of, in the Black Sea and elsewhere. I am anxious about what is going to happen in St Catherine’s monastery. He is not going there principally for the gold.’
‘You know about the gold?’ she said.
He looked up. ‘Ah. Yes, I know. Does it seem to deny all I have just said to Jan? My life is God’s before it is Mammon’s.