The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [78]
‘Sir Robert has let you …?’
It was impossible. The old man was wandering. His superior was the titular head of his family. Once, their combined ancestors had owned all the land they now shared. Then, as junior branch, Simon’s forebears had settled and built their own dynasty in Kilmirren. Henry’s pure line. Henry’s heritage.
‘Sir Robert of Elliotstoun has installed me. Or his son in his name, to be accurate. Don’t you believe me? Semple, they call themselves now, not St Pol. Should I do the same? You noticed the sign on the door.’
Simon said, ‘And this is all against me? You’re mad. You have no interest in Scotland.’
‘You don’t think so?’ said the other man. ‘The King will buy – don’t you think he will feel compelled to buy? – some of the rather fine objects he saw today, and perhaps favour me in other ways. He did cause damage, and I have been amazingly humble. And my ship also brought people. Singers, carvers, masons and painters. A master melter and jesters. A glassing-wright and a goldsmith.
‘Forgive me, but I could dispose of you alone rather more cheaply. I suppose’ – he paused – ‘I simply prefer to work on a broad canvas. And, of course, there is Jordan.’
‘This is devilment for its own sake,’ Simon said.
‘Perhaps,’ his captor said. ‘But it is not careless devilment. You may at least know, as you suffer, that I mean it.’ And he rose to his feet.
There was no point, now, in asking what he was going to do. The door was locked. The other man had the key, and an axe, and would be ruthless. His eyes spoke for him.
Simon watched him, and thought. He would have to fight – he had always known that. But fight this time while keeping his temper, and goading the other man into losing his. Where was de Fleury weak?
Simon said, ‘So, for whom are you amassing this power? You won’t get another wife now. Who would marry you? Didn’t you kill Marian de Charetty as well?’
‘You’re going to itemise my wives?’ the other man said. ‘Let me do it for you. My first wife brought me the Charetty company, but I didn’t kill her. My second I gave away to Zacco of Cyprus, who is not renowned for keeping his mistresses, and indeed, I am told she is dead. My third you know about. Do you want to talk about Joneta?’
‘If you like. Or about Gelis and David de Salmeton. You do know about that? He was much less discreet than I was, but I think the poor girl was starved for companionship. Except for one purpose, you don’t care for young women, do you?’ He said it, thinking aloud: even thinking about something and someone else. He hardly saw the small reaction, but it was there. Simon held his breath, his mind racing. Then he said, ‘My father was right about Diniz. I suppose you realise that?’
‘Better,’ the other man said. His tone was approving. Instead of coming nearer he stooped and, lifting the rake, stepped up and began to draw it through the mixed liquid and cake of the cauldron. The salt began to pile up at the sides. He said, ‘Yes, better. I could become annoyed about that. Your fat father Jordan branded Diniz his grandson a sodomite. With whom, I can’t quite remember. With me? With David de Salmeton? Not with me. And as you were saying, David de Salmeton has orthodox tastes, if unwise ones.’
‘But so do you,’ Simon said. ‘Some men enjoy mixing their pleasures, and find marriage convenient. Diniz has a wife and a child on the way, so there has been no open scandal. Until now, that is.’
The rake continued to pass up and down slowly. ‘Well, go on,’ the other man said.
‘Letters came to the Castle from Bruges,’ Simon said. ‘From Tommaso Portinari to the King’s brother of Albany. They mentioned Diniz and the Charetty company. And Gregorio, your lawyer in Bruges. You know his mistress Margot has left him?’
The rake moved without cease. ‘So I believe,’ its handler said.
Simon showed his surprise. ‘A courier here? Ah, no. I see. The Ghost brought you a letter. So