The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [317]
‘The gold?’ said Tobie. ‘She wanted the gold?’
‘She wanted to watch me compelled to find it. That was all. She wouldn’t know, you see, that someone had left this.’
It was like being in camp, moving among wounded, speaking carefully. Tobie said, ‘Someone? The Patriarch? But, Nicholas … what makes you sure Gelis didn’t help him? She could have had the box made. She must have provided what was in it. She could have made certain that someone would empty it before you could touch it. One of them must have told the monks what you were doing. They didn’t find you divining by accident.’
‘But,’ said Nicholas, ‘you see, it doesn’t matter. The power stays, even though it is empty. I know where to start.’ His voice strengthened for the first time. ‘I don’t know where the gold is. I don’t need to know. I can find the child.’
Tobie said, ‘If you do, you will need me. Not for the child. For yourself. Do you understand?’ It was the least he could do. He should be forbidding this.
He saw Nicholas realise it. Nicholas said, ‘I know. It will stop.’
‘It may take longer than you think,’ said Tobie dryly. ‘You said you knew where to start?’
‘I know where he is,’ Nicholas said. ‘Here, in the Middle Sea, on an island. I have to sail from Gaza.’
Gaza would take six to eight days to reach. It was on the Middle Sea. Alexandria and Gaza lay at opposite ends of the Sinai coastline. Tobie said, ‘It takes you further from home. You don’t know which island?’
He remembered as he spoke that the maps Nicholas had used for his divining were burned. There would be others at Gaza. They had an agent at Gaza. He began to say, ‘Could it be Crete?’ and then stopped, looking at the other man’s bent head. The box lay in his hands. Tobie rose quietly and left, without troubling him with anything more.
That day the problem resolved itself because of the illness of Kathi.
It had worried Tobie, her collapse. Her uncle, himself overtired, had been at first inclined to belittle it. He had been distraught, on his return, to find the calm of the monastery further destroyed, and the culprit – the practitioner of the unnatural art – to be Nicholas. Then came the discovery that his niece Katelijne had known of it.
In the end, Tobie turned Adorne from her room. ‘He uses the gift to detect minerals. It isn’t unknown. If you possessed such an ability, wouldn’t you use it to find gold?’
And – ‘No! On my soul, a thousand times no!’ Adorne had said and, rejecting Tobie in turn, had brought Brother Lorenzo to view his young nephew Stephen (at a distance), and to confirm his belief that the Holy Land, with all its miracles, would surely effect a complete cure.
At the bedside, Brother Lorenzo murmured politenesses. Outside, he turned. ‘Forgive me, but this I must say. You have no doctor. The Holy Land is Mameluke country, and travel there can be harsh and distressing, as you have already found. Would you not prefer to choose some quiet place where Stephen might wait out the rest of your journey? A return perhaps to my own island of Crete? To St Catherine’s community there?’
It was a sensible offer and Adorne, prevaricating, longed to accept it. The monk set out to persuade him. ‘I could take him and see him well cared for. He would find some interest in our ikon workshops, our trade.’
It was impossible. ‘I am afraid not,’ said Adorne, with regret.
The monk bit his lip and seemed to gather himself. ‘Also, the ladies of my family would make him welcome.’
The tone of voice was enough. With mixed relief and despair, Adorne answered at length. ‘I see you have guessed. I am ashamed.’
Later, stiffly conveying the news to the doctor, Adorne found Tobie unamazed.
‘Monks are wiser than you would think. I thought the Abbot suspected the sex of our Stephen.’ He studied Adorne. ‘D’you think less of the Father for letting it pass? Katelijne was the only one with a real reason for being here.’
‘Do you think so?’ said Adorne. ‘You felt nothing, gained nothing from the mountain? I know, of course, your friend