To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [161]
As arranged, they landed the boy at the end of the channel, by a grassy shelter picked out by the moon. Then they moved away, and broke out their sails, one by one.
Nicholas stood on the foredeck with John. The sea opened, a glimmer of crests in the dark. Above, the sky was broken with stars. The ship leaned and dipped to the deepening waves; its speed quickened; its uneven voice began to ease towards melody. He could feel the mood on board altering too, as resentment faded, usurped by the first tingling spark of excitement. Soon he would order up ale for all, and some food. Robin said, ‘Sir?’
Ready-witted, ever-present, ever-helpful, Robin of Berecrofts had already proved himself his father’s son; and Nicholas had rewarded him with fair, but not undue attention. Robin had his own people and, trained, would serve them in the end, not a stranger.
Nevertheless the boy had worked hard at Tórshavn and was due some return. Nicholas said, ‘What? You wanted to stay in the Faroes? The Boyds enjoyed it. Well, one of them did.’
‘No,’ said Robin. ‘That is, I know. I didn’t mind having to leave. I thought there was something you ought to be told. Martin didn’t hire your man Torolf for the Unicorn.’
Beside them, John had spun round. The boy’s face, dripping with spray, was rather pale. Nicholas said, ‘Explain, please.’
The ship lurched. The boy staggered and recovered at once, his hands stiff at his sides like a soldier’s. He said, ‘Torolf offered, and Martin refused him. They’ve taken a pilot called Mogens Björnsen. He knows Iceland well.’
Nicholas stared at the boy, who met his eyes. He always did. So when he spoke to the lad, it was with more restraint than he felt. ‘Robin, how do you know this?’
‘I told him,’ said someone defiantly. ‘Ey.’
He thought at first it was Dmitri, stepping out from the dark of the hatch. Then he realised that the unbroken voice was not his. Finally, he recognised whose it was.
He said to John, ‘Tell the helm. We turn back.’
John, with an effort, turned his gaze from the speaker to Nicholas. ‘You’ll jeopardise the whole ship.’
‘Not if she’s rowed to the hut,’ Nicholas said. ‘She can wait with the lad until morning.’
‘No, she can’t,’ Robin said. ‘She’s risking her life as it is. Let her speak.’
‘Well, Katelijne?’ said Nicholas.
Chapter 22
FOR MANY REASONS, not least to do with his boyhood, Nicholas Fleury was on the surface an equable man. Of recent years he had begun, as a matter of strategy, to allow himself some show of temper; and more recently still, there had been occasions, some regrettable, where his exasperation had outstripped his control.
The debt he owed Katelijne Sersanders was a profound one. At the moment, it didn’t exist. She was here, on his ship, in jacket, tunic and hose, a woollen cap on the hair cropped from Egypt: a well-born unmarried girl of eighteen, niece to Anselm Adorne, sister to Anselm Sersanders of the powerful Unicorn. When Nicholas said, ‘Well, Katelijne?’ he made no effort to hide what he felt.
He saw her swallow. Then she said, ‘I am your hostage.’
The lid of the hatch was no place to pursue that. He said shortly, ‘To my cabin,’ and holding the curtain aside for the girl, closed it in the faces of Robin and John. If he knew him, Father Moriz would appear soon enough. The ship continued on its course; the girl stood facing him, her hand on the bulwark. He said, ‘Sit.’
She sat. She folded her hands where her lap should have been. She said, ‘I warned Sersanders not to hire the first man you sent him. I’m sorry. But now I’m here, they can’t attack you or your ship.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Nicholas said. He took a breath. ‘Does your brother know that you’re here?’
‘He will now. I left him a message.’
‘He knows I have the Svipa?’
‘We heard as soon as we landed. I slipped away then, and came here.’
‘After making sure that Torolf was rejected. You think I would bribe a pilot to mislead his employer?’
‘I knew you