The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [65]
A rustle ran through the room. And even as it ran, Nicholas said, ‘My lord. I intrude. I see you have keys of your own.’
The King sat up. Finding an uncle’s hand on his shoulder, he shook it off. He said, ‘We did not expect you to make of the simple journey from Berecrofts a task as long as your travels in Asia. Did you expect us to await you all night?’
His voice was indignant. Nicholas, between the two arms of the trestles, did not advance any nearer. He said, ‘The fault is mine, my lord King. I would have unpacked and furnished the Palace myself, had I known you wished to purchase so much.’
The King glanced at Bishop Graham, and away. He said, ‘Purchased? We have merely ordered a view of your goods, many of which are damaged, or below those standards common to Scotland. We shall tell you, in due course, which if any we propose to keep for ourselves.’
‘My lord is gracious,’ said Nicholas.
‘You have, I hope, no complaint?’ said the King. Below the table, visibly, he received a kick from Alexander his brother. A rustle of laughter ran round the room.
‘My lord King, on the contrary: I excuse myself,’ Nicholas said. ‘And would ask you, as a favour, to receive from me without charge all those items you have identified – all those items which are not entirely perfect. Would it please my lord to accept them in loving gauge gift from a servant?’
‘He’s gone crazy,’ said Metteneye.
‘Has he?’ said Adorne. The subdued laughter had increased.
‘Are you serious?’ said John, Earl of Atholl, his manner ponderous. ‘It is an offer of exceptional generosity.’
‘Of course,’ Nicholas said. ‘Provided, of course, his grace can make use of them. Perhaps they are not to his taste.’
He did not look at Bishop Patrick, but the shaft had pricked its target, Adorne thought, his apprehension shot through with passing amusement. But apprehension was what, increasingly, he now felt. Nicholas de Fleury was not nowadays a subservient man, and if he courted humiliation, it was for a purpose. The result, for the moment, was a murmur of subdued derision: the expression of a contempt which had its roots in disappointment. They had wanted an explosion, all those spoiled young men and their companions. It would have salved any pangs of conscience they might feel, or would feel in the morning.
Adorne began to consider not only the morning, but the immediate future. The tapers burned now, and the shutters were closed against darkening skies full of snow. This well-dined company would never travel home safely tonight. He tried, discreetly, to catch the Bishop’s eye, and found it unnecessary. The King said, ‘Perhaps M. de Fleury has supped less well than we, and would join us at table. Unless the Master of Works thinks we have had pleasures enough, and should leave before nightfall?’
‘I beg,’ Nicholas said, ‘that the King’s grace would not dream of delaying his departure. Although there are plumdames and nuts just arrived, which I had hoped to tempt him into tasting, and, of course, the merchandise to select. Or if it would please him to stay, there are beds and pallets enough to serve most of his company. The blankets are still in the chests.’
‘And all, of course, for sale at moderate prices, allowing for damage and use,’ someone said, without troubling to whisper. De Fleury gave no sign of having heard that, or the laughter that followed it. Or of noticing the pleasure mixed with contempt on the face of Simon de St Pol, as he listened to the patronising voice of the Court, deciding to spend the night on M. de Fleury’s new beds in