To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [261]
‘What is he like, the child?’ Tobie said. ‘Hounded from person to person, how has he grown?’
Gregorio looked at him, smiling. ‘Are you afraid of another monster in embryo? Veere gave him a fright, I am sure, but there has been a continuity of upbringing, Moriz says, which has not spoiled the child or warped it so far. And even its nurses have no complaint against Nicholas as a father. He has impressed them, I am told.’
‘And he has taken Henry with him?’ Tobie said. ‘Perhaps he means to train him as well.’
‘No,’ Gregorio said. ‘The consensus is that Simon’s son is not worth redeeming.’ He paused. ‘You know Nicholas would welcome you back.’
‘Would he?’ said Tobie. It emerged more sharply than he meant, and he was sorry.
‘Well, we should,’ said Gregorio.
In Antwerp, as the freshness of June merged into the heat of July, Mistress Clémence of Coulanges was pleased to find that the child Jordan de Fleury, responding to firm, kindly treatment, was virtually himself once again, although a little inclined to cling, and to ask for his father. His extreme distress at the mention of Veere had caused Mistress Clémence to advise against repeating the visit, despite the lady of Veere’s many kind invitations. Happily, Jordan’s mother fully agreed. Mistress Clémence was gratified.
In some ways it was a pity, for the wide skies and soft sands of Walcheren would have been pleasant in summer. But there were other meadows, other beaches; and excursions were easier than they had ever been, with the size of the bodyguard at her command, and the amenability of Pasque, who had received a great fright, and who in any case melted into complaisance, given the presence of jolly, muscular men in her kitchen. The helpful Bita, despite her even more helpful relatives, had been dismissed.
There remained the Lady. By now, it was perfectly clear, to Mistress Clémence at least, that this was not a marriage of indifference, no matter how much time the parents might spend apart. Returning from Bruges, the mother had been distant in manner for several days. Of course, her lord had blamed her for what had happened, and Mistress Clémence herself felt some guilt. She had seen jealous children before, and spoiled children. She knew what they could do, and she knew the anger they provoked in shocked adults.
Even so, she thought the lady Gelis had been unprepared for her husband’s treatment of the St Pol boy. Oddly, the good-looking woman, the German, had been more discerning, both towards the unfortunate boy and the sieur de Fleury. Mistress Clémence had admired her competence, but thought it as well that she had returned to Cologne. This marriage had enough to contend with.
Certainly, the husband had taken steps to keep in touch with both his wife and the child; the tales that came were often amusing, as one heard the Lady relating them. It could be taken for granted that she was more anxious than she showed.
Such parental attention was helpful when the boy Robin of Berecrofts came to leave, for the child had come to think of Robin in much the same possessive terms as his father; the disappearance of both to Iceland had taken some time to forgive, and Jordan did not enjoy tales of the sport that Master John or Father Moriz or especially the demoiselle Kathi had enjoyed in their company.
Robin himself would miss the child, Clémence thought, although no blow would ever be as great as the dismissal he had suffered at Veere. At first he had waited, withdrawn, for the threatened orders. Next, as the days passed, it seemed likely that the sieur de Fleury had either forgotten him, or was going to leave him neglected in Antwerp. Then one day the boy, flushed, had received a letter in his master’s own hand which had redressed all that silent misery in one stroke.
It contained an apology, it would seem, although in what words the boy did not say. It also contained a request. Until the future of Henry was settled, it would be advisable, said the sieur de Fleury, that Robin and the young St Pol