To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [232]
‘Ah. You saw Beltrees,’ he said. ‘I am sure Bel displayed all its advantages. How shall I pay? You forget the stockfish.’
‘But,’ Gelis said, ‘that depends on the market at Bruges. And Bruges is nervous over the Hanse, and might even refuse a cargo of pirated fish which has deprived the Hanse and cheated the King of Denmark of his taxes.’ Her voice was mild, and her eyes were jökull colour again.
He said, ‘Bruges refuse me?’
‘Bruges. Reinforced by the opinion of one of the Duke of Burgundy’s principal councillors, and of the new Conservator of the Scots Privileges in Bruges. A recent appointment by James your young royal friend,’ Gelis explained. She refolded the robe at her breasts and shook out her sleeves with elegant care. ‘Conveying, as you know, remarkable powers and perquisites. Stephen Angus will continue at Middleberg, but the new Conservator at Bruges is Adorne.’
Cold as jökull ice. Hot as the inferno beneath it. He said slowly, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘It was arranged as he left. The documents have been drawn up to ratify it. Everything you now sell between Scotland and Bruges will be subject to the Baron Cortachy’s scrutiny. You have lost your Flemish market.’
‘But,’ he said, ‘Bruges is not the only market in Flanders. May I help you with that?’
Her fingers fell away from her gown as he settled it. He smoothed her sleeves and stood back to admire them. He said, ‘The van Borselens have very good taste. It was really quite a coup to marry into them … Did I say I was selling in Bruges? Did I say indeed that our house would be in Bruges? Perhaps you didn’t know that I had a bureau in Antwerp?’
‘No,’ she said. She backed and sat on a cushioned chest, frowning.
‘And a small staff, and a warehouse, and a bodyguard. I arranged to deliver my stockfish to Antwerp. The buyers are waiting. Ships will move them to France and to Spain, and will come back with wine and salt, some of it mine. And meantime, the Merrybuttocks will return, to be transformed into The Lion.’
He saw her seeking wildly for the flaw. She said, ‘He couldn’t pay for it. The King couldn’t pay for it now.’
‘So he has just told me,’ he said.
‘And so?’
Watching her, he was sorry, but not greatly sorry. She knew him well. She already understood, without knowing how, that he had eluded her. He could read her, as she could read him. He said, ‘He paid me in lands and a title. Beltrees is a barony.’
There was a long silence. She said, ‘From when?’
‘There will be a ceremony. You will take part. So will Jordan.’
She said, ‘Bel said you would do that.’
‘Bel might well guess. She dissipated all my liquid assets. Isn’t it lucky,’ Nicholas said, ‘that you didn’t divorce me? Now look what has happened.’
She stood up. ‘I won’t stop,’ she said.
‘Of course you won’t,’ Nicholas said. ‘That is why I came back.’
The safe, mediocre span in the middle, which didn’t tear you to pieces. Neither of them would stop, however minor the tussle might seem on some scales. At the same time, even though it was minor, he felt the wrench, as he always did, when he left.
The ceremony he had spoken of took place before the end of the month, on the day that his new ship from Danzig sailed into Leith roads. She was the size and weight of the Unicorn and the Pruss Maiden and more modern than either. Her name, as Jordan spelled out, was the Fleury.
Her owner boarded her bearing a different name: Nicholas de Fleury, Lord Beltrees. The formal ceremony of investiture at the Abbey merged, later, into the informal ceremony at sea of christening and departure. John had the honour of taking her out as her first master, and Moriz sailed as her chaplain. They lost a tide, because the young royals could not be persuaded to leave.
In the end, they tumbled into the boats as the Fleury prepared to raise sail. Willie Roger lingered behind.
Nicholas said, ‘I’m not taking you. I’ll be back in the autumn. For God’s sake, I’ll keep telling you all I hear about your Chapel Royal money and Coldingham.’
Roger