To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [148]
Just before Gelis left, she learned with pleasure that Crackbene had come ashore in a hurry. She wondered if Nicholas had noticed that Martin had vanished. She did not know, and no one told her, that John le Grant had gone from his lodgings as well. She saw no cause at that point to regret having told Nicholas the truth about Katelina.
Part III
Spring, 1472
THE CRAPAULT OF HELL
Chapter 20
TO MANY PEOPLE in Edinburgh, it was perfectly obvious why the younger Burgundian had left town. The theories did not always coincide, except in so far as all agreed that a massive money-making adventure, of advantage to them all, was about to be advanced to a brilliant conclusion. After which, as was known, Nicol de Fleury would leave to join his army abroad until the summer campaigning was over.
The project was, of course, to do with the production of salt, for which de Fleury had the lease of the Hamilton rights on both sides of the Forth. Alternatively, it had to do with the mining of coal, extensively used in the pans, and also profiting by the Bank’s remarkable success in the field of sophisticated hydraulic engineering. Or if it were neither of these, then it was concerned with the casting of cannon, now brought to such an improved level that before you knew it (men said with a wink) Scotland would be exporting to Mons.
Money changed hands.
There was a rumour about precious metals, but the knowledgeable declared it ill-founded: the man had ridden eastwards, not west.
There was some talk about fishing.
Asked to opine on the subject, Archie of Berecrofts said less than most, although in fact he knew something. The world might think that Nicol de Fleury had dropped by to talk about Robin, but that was the tale they agreed on. What Nicol de Fleury had wanted was not a few weeks of Robin, but the company of Archie his father.
It had been hard to refuse. The old man had refused for him. ‘My Archie’s a merchant. He’s nae mair tae say tae a line o’ dried fish than a line o’ raisins wad flush up a fishmonger.’
‘You sell herring,’ said Nicholas.
‘Oh aye,’ said old William of Berecrofts. ‘And I’ll tak’ a share in your trade. But a piece of Archie you’ll not can get, my fine lad. Berecrofts needs him.’
‘I can go,’ Robin had said.
The eyes of William and Nicholas had met. Nicholas said, ‘I think Berecrofts needs you as well.’
‘Berecrofts will get me,’ Robin had said. ‘When I’m trained. You promised to train me.’ He added, ‘Or I’ll complain to the King.’
Nicholas winced. Old William said nothing. The father, biting his lip, looked at the boy. The grandfather, breaking his silence said, ‘Take the lad. ’Tis time for his blooding.’
Of the three men paid to spy upon the Burgundian, it was the bearded man who followed him when he left. De Fleury’s cavalcade was quite small, and not overburdened with luggage, so that its pace was quite brisk. Nevertheless it was easy to follow, depositing its belongings in Leith, and passing on to the outcrops and saltflats further east, where Moriz the German priest joined them. Then, just as they prepared to move on, a messenger came with some news and the whole party turned back to the house in North Leith in a temper. You could hear the shouting clean through their windows. Then a servant emerged, and spurred off back up the road to the Canongate.
The bearded man went to report. The man who had arrived in such haste was Michael Crackbene, the company shipmaster. And the news he had brought could be guessed at.
The second spy, discreetly placed in the warmth of the stables, was able to see the bustle of servants, and was quite ready to follow when de Fleury emerged from the house followed by Crackbene. They made for the strand where the doggers were building. Directing the work was the Bank’s red-headed gunner. There was an acrimonious passage between them, then de Fleury returned to the house.
The second spy sent a message to Edinburgh:
De Fleury’s new ship failed to come. They