The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [57]
How it proposed to expand in Scotland, Berecrofts the Younger was not as yet perfectly certain. He knew of a land transaction, now lapsed. He suspected promises of heavy loans. He was aware, because de Fleury had built his Canongate house on Berecrofts’s property, that there was a secure room lined with timber and locked, and a double cook-house built of stone in an odd place. He had seen iron boxes which took four men to lift.
He knew that there was a ship due to dock after Twelfth Night which was rumoured to be carrying articles of the kind men described who had been to Rome and Florence, Venice and Bruges, Paris and Rhodes. He had glimpsed arriving by night local men whom he knew, but who did not seem to wish to be recognised.
The only traffic which had decreased, understandably, since Nicholas de Fleury retired to Berecrofts was that of the dames pour amours, the amorous ladies. Joneta Hamilton of Kinneil, who had come twice, had left the second time weeping, and had not returned, which was as well, considering her over-prominence on the day of the jousts.
The other feminine visitations, hardly more successful, involved not a woman but young Katelijne Sersanders, come from Haddington with a pack of nuns to visit – so the excuse ran – the nearby Cistercian priory at Emmanuel. The real reason for the first visit, Archie deduced, was winter boredom overlaid with curiosity, and the Princess Margaret her mistress came with her.
That time, less than a week after the stabbing, Andreas had refused to admit them, and Archie had to deal with the Princess’s displeasure as best he could, and see them all off – or so he thought. He returned to the house to discover the girl Katelijne actually inside de Fleury’s chamber, having been smuggled there by a conspiratorial Robin. He cuffed his son and would have cuffed the Burgundian Envoy’s niece, had he had the courage. As it was, she looked up at him with those shrewd hazel eyes and said, nodding to the pillow-packed bed, ‘Isn’t he bored as well?’
‘And if he were, what do you propose to do about it?’ said the patient’s dispassionate voice. Since arriving, he had shown no inclination to talk. Now he appeared to examine his visitor. ‘Ah. The guardian, chief flower and matchless ornament of Haddington. And how is the lady Margaret?’
‘Annoyed,’ Katelijne said, going in. ‘They said you were sleeping.’
‘That was Dr Andreas,’ said Archie of Berecrofts. He wished Andreas would come back. He hesitated.
The wounded man said, ‘Didn’t you hear her? She requires entertainment. Leave her. If I become rough, she’ll scream. What is the Prioress saying?’
Archie left them, pushing Robin before him. Had he remained, he would have seen nothing of moment, except the gleam in the eye of the girl Katelijne, preparing to taunt and be taunted.
‘She’s moved Ada and the baby to the priory at Coldstream,’ Katelijne said. She found a cup, filled it, laid it on the tray by the bed, pulled out and plumped up his pillows, checked the brazier and sat down on a stool with a book he had been reading.
‘I’ve read that. I’ll tell you in a moment the bits I don’t like. Haddington? We’re all learning to dance: the King’s dancing-master comes out from Torphichen. Mistress Phemie has written a poem, and Will Roger has set it to music. There are three verses the Prioress doesn’t know about. Dame Alisia is going to her family for Christmas, while the rest of us attend the Princesses at Court. Thomas Boyd won’t be there: the Danish bride will be held up for months. His father has a very bad cold and a rash. We are all waiting for your ship with the cut velvet in it: if it doesn’t come soon, the Prioress will attack you with a knife, and this time it will be fatal. As you probably know, your friend Kilmirren