The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [333]
‘God save us, of course not,’ said the Patriarch of Antioch tartly, and banged the door shut.
It opened again almost immediately and Katelijne came in, wearing a sheet. ‘Who was that?’
‘Haven’t you got a bedgown yet? It’s all right, he’s a priest. Ludovico da Bologna, the –’
She sat down. ‘The man who came to the monastery. We heard. He brought the lady Gelis to see M. de Fleury and then took her away. Will he go to the Palace and make trouble?’
‘I think,’ said Tobie, ‘that even the Latin Patriarch of Antioch would hesitate before doing that.’
‘But he wouldn’t say why he was here. Would he go to the King’s mother?’
‘You were listening,’ said Tobie accusingly. He regulated his thoughts. ‘The King’s mother isn’t here.’
‘Yes, she is. She sent her ladies to look after me at the Palace. I didn’t know that Henry’s mother died in Famagusta. The lady Gelis’s sister.’
He had no trouble concentrating now. He said, ‘She was caught in Famagusta while the siege was on, and was injured by the King’s cannon.’
‘By M. de Fleury’s cannon,’ she said. ‘Or so they said. He and M. le Grant directed the siege.’
Cropnose. What was the King’s mother playing at? Tobie said, ‘They ended it as well, at some danger to themselves. Nicholas was captured, and spent the last days nursing the starving. Nursing Gelis’s sister until she died.’
‘And Diniz. Diniz had been caught in Famagusta as well?’ the girl said. She had been told the whole story, he could tell.
Tobie got up and said, ‘Well, if we are not going to sleep, we might as well make ourselves cool.’ The water was fresh, and he mixed it with fruit juice and brought two goblets over. He sat down beside her. ‘The King’s mother has a great deal to do with her son’s life. She knows Nicholas, and her ladies were probably sent to tell you what they did. Do you understand?’
‘I suppose,’ said Kathi, ‘that that is a compliment. So Diniz didn’t think M. de Fleury was responsible for his aunt’s death?’
‘Ask him when you get home,’ Tobie said. ‘He will tell you he made some mistakes when he was here. He fought Nicholas, and wounded him, too. As badly as Nicholas wounded your uncle. That was a misunderstanding as well.’
‘But Diniz and he are friends now,’ Katelijne said.
Tobie said nothing. He could see no grounds for friendship between Nicholas and her uncle. Nor could he point out that between Diniz and Nicholas there was a kinship of marriage, and perhaps even of blood.
The girl said, ‘Where is she buried?’ When he looked startled she repeated impatiently. ‘Katelina van Borselen. Was she brought home and buried at Veere? Or at Kilmirren with her husband’s family?’ She had a picture, perhaps, of Henry visiting his mother’s grave.
Tobie said, ‘She died during the siege, so her funeral Mass was in Famagusta. She left a letter asking to remain there.’
‘Where?’ said the girl. She was frowning.
‘You were there,’ Tobie said. ‘The Cathedral next to the Archbishop’s Palace.’ He had stepped into it briefly himself. He had known where to look, but there were no coffins visible now in the aisles. He remembered the building during the siege. It was immense: golden and Gothic like Rheims: built for the coronation of Lusignan monarchs. The Cathedral of St Nicholas.
He waited for her to name it, but she didn’t. If she had noticed, Nicholas had only entered the central door for a moment and stood, looking in. Tobie wondered what else the old bitch had got her women to tell her. About St Hilarion, for instance. Naphtha and poison. And the truth about Tzani-bey al-Ablak.
He sat with her for a bit, sipping his drink; half expecting the door to open and Nicholas to come in, perhaps with the Patriarch with him, bickering expertly. After some time, it became apparent that she had been told nothing more, and that she now understood that she would learn no more from him. Her lids had started to droop.
It was a surprise therefore when she opened them and said, ‘Why does nobody stay with him?’
His own head had started to nod. He lifted