The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [98]
He dismounted, and said what was fitting. Diniz looked up and said, ‘I heard you tried to save her. Thank you.’ His face was full of uneven colour, but he was not weeping.
Nicholas said, ‘She should have lived to welcome her grandchild. How is it with Tilde?’
Diniz dropped one of his hands and half turned. ‘She would like to see you; but not if you are busy. Have you time?’
‘For Tilde? What does Tobie say?’
‘Not much,’ Diniz said. ‘To rest and to wait. If you really have time, then – come and speak to her.’
Tilde lay in the chamber that had once been her mother’s and his. The mound under the bedclothes was not as great as it should have been, and her sunk eyes were apprehensive, her brown hair coiled dull at her shoulders. Nicholas sat and took her hand in both of his. He was, after all, her step-father.
He said, ‘In business, one makes a range of predictions, and then one plans for the worst. What has Tobie told you?’
‘Nothing!’ said Diniz.
Nicholas did not turn. ‘Go away, Diniz,’ he said. The girl’s hand tightened in his. After a moment, Nicholas heard the door close.
He said, ‘It is hard for men at such times. What did Tobie say?’ He paused and then said, ‘Come on. I’ve seen babies born.’
Her eyes, looking at his, suddenly brimmed. He released a hand and gave her his kerchief. She spoke, scrubbing it into wet corners. ‘He says – he didn’t want to say – I know its heartbeat is weak. I have to rest. I have to try to keep it.’
Nicholas took the cloth from her, tidied her cheeks, and took her hand again. ‘You probably will. Are you very tired?’
Her face was narrow and pallid in illness, as her brother’s had been. Only Catherine had their mother’s red-brown hair and bright colour. Tilde said, ‘The doctor says that is natural. He says I am not to worry: there will be others.’
His hands parted from hers. He said, ‘That is what I wanted to hear. Of course, you want to give Diniz this baby. But there are many pearls on a string.’
‘You have a child coming,’ she said.
‘Inshallah. If God wills,’ he continued immediately. ‘If not, I have you and Catherine. I haven’t seen Gelis yet. Would you like her to come and stay with you, if she can?’
He saw, as he expected, a mixture of feelings. She said, ‘If she can. But it might be unsafe. No, don’t ask her. Have you seen Catherine yet?’
‘Is she visible? I thought she had too many suitors. Which is she going to marry?’
‘You have to tell her,’ said Tilde. ‘She will do whatever you say.’ She smiled at him shakily and then her brows, which had smoothed, drew strictly together. She said, ‘Have you been sick, cousin Nicholas? I should be about my duties, to see you have food.’
‘When your child has come, I shall demand it,’ he said. Who had taught her to call him cousin Nicholas? He added, ‘I’m not sick, and I shall eat when you do. Will you allow me to share your meals sometimes?’
She agreed, her eyes bright. He thought it might even be possible. At best, it would give him a respite from Godscalc and Tobie. All the time he had been speaking, a distant tapping had been increasing in volume. As he ended, there was a thud outside the door, a rattling latch, and Godscalc himself walked slowly in, followed by Tobias Beventini, physician.
Nicholas rose, with unconcealed distaste. ‘Oh, I know,’ he said. ‘A pretty girl in bed somewhere, and who are the two most likely to find excuses to badger her?’
He addressed that to Tobie, who was shrewd enough, but whose initial perceptions would be medical. He wondered what they had been told, and if they had learned about Henry. A glance at Godscalc, fierce and silent, his weight on his stick, answered that question, and others. The vigorous German hulk of a man who had sought Prester John at his side had returned this blanched cripple, with one donation to God he was still determined