To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [308]
The fever which seized her ran its course, and the bruises and stiffening faded. Gradually, she resumed some of her customary interests, as he began to lay aside his: sealing off veins; choosing that project to ripen, and this to remain suspended in ice. He had given her time to do the same, if she wished.
On Wednesday the seventeenth of March, the Queen’s grace of Scotland gave birth to a fine, sturdy prince, baptised James. The processions, feasting and plays, ceremonies and contests brought the dame de Fleury recovered to Court, and the young red-headed princes and their sisters made her welcome, while complaining because their grand fatiste claimed to be too busy to help them. The Queen, hitherto cool, now became markedly gracious to Gelis van Borselen, and desired to be introduced to this Pavian physician whose uncle (she had heard) had treated half Christendom.
Tobie returned from Court somewhat flushed, and paraphrased the royal dilemma for Nicholas. ‘She doesn’t like it. She wants to know how long can she induce him to wait, and need she do it at all if he’s got some infection through Simon.’
‘I told you,’ Nicholas said. ‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing she can quote against me,’ Tobie said. ‘Except that infertility isn’t infectious, and the faster she breeds, the sooner it’ll be over with. She hopes you’re going to stay. She enjoyed your little conspiracy over Iceland.’ He paused. ‘Would you stay, if it weren’t for Simon and his father?’
‘No,’ said Nicholas. He softened it. ‘Scotland’s too far away from the Bank.’
Tobie weighed it up. Tobie’s thoughts were generally visible. He said, ‘Venice would be safer than here.’
‘Everywhere will be safe, fairly soon,’ Nicholas said.
The last weeks fled. He had paced it well: all his business was settled; all his appointments were concluded one by one, many of them in the hunting-field, or over some boisterous sport (all countries were ruled half from horseback). By the end of March he had let it be known, as it had long been known to Gregorio and Diniz and Govaerts, that he was establishing his family in Venice.
‘In the company of Julius and the delectable Anna!’ Gelis had observed. ‘Why did I not anticipate that?’
‘It was Tobie’s idea,’ Nicholas said.
It was understood that next summer he was not coming back, and that, as had the Baron of Cortachy, he had placed all his flourishing enterprises in the care of his excellent agent. It saddened and even annoyed several merchants and magnates and their ladies that the castle of Beltrees, this promising venue of pleasure, was to benefit nobody, unless the Baron’s guests and business partners were to lodge there, or the Baron himself, when compelled north.
It was agreed that its only purpose had been to supply him with an excuse for his title, although the more romantic believed that it had been built for his lady, who had rejected it. The lands around would, of course, provide him with a sizeable income, as Cortachy did for the other.
He had been prepared for all that, and also for the probability that he would be treated to some kind of feast on his departure. He had not expected to find that it was to be held in the royal presence at Holyrood, nor to discover its scale. He was a Burgundian banker, that was all.
Four years ago, in the opening moves of this time-blighted enterprise, he had appeared at an impromptu royal banquet in Linlithgow, at which he had acted as playmate and sycophant. Now the royal children of Scotland were grown, and had learned to befriend him for himself.
Most of the same people were here, in the tapestry-hung hall of the Lodging, whose windows admitted the scent of the wild flowers, instead of the death-chill of snow.
Adorne was absent, a widower now, but laden with appointments and honours. Standing for him were Katelijne and her brother, who had shared an experience they could afford to remember, but Nicholas,