To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [32]
‘You will?’ said the King slowly. He came close, until he stood face to face, looking up. He said, ‘Yes, my friend. My ambitious, clever young friend. You do that, and France will be generous. Do that, and indeed, you will receive what you ask.’
Freed, Nicholas rode out next day with his servants. A mile from the castle, he was halted by a small group of horsemen. Among them, vast in the saddle, was Jordan de Ribérac. ‘A word,’ he said.
The forces were evenly divided. They made no attempt to attack or to mix, but waited facing each other while Nicholas and the vicomte moved apart. De Ribérac halted and spoke. ‘You are a fortunate youth. I hear you refused the King, and yet he released you.’
Nicholas smiled. ‘Did he tell you why? I had sent ahead to warn Burgundy.’
The fat man gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘You had no intention, when you came, of joining France. Or of sending your son. You can rout the Vatachino, you think, on your own.’
‘I should have been a fool to join France,’ Nicholas said. ‘Considering what was happening in the courtyard as you and I spoke. I never saw a more depressed set of couriers. Are all the members of the royal House of Lancaster dead, or merely in fetters?’
‘Was it so obvious?’ de Ribérac said. ‘I suppose, to a second-class sort of diviner, it was. Yes, the news had just come from England. Edward of York has regained the throne. Henry of Lancaster is dead; his queen Margaret of Anjou in prison.’
‘And the boy?’ Nicholas said.
‘Edward of Wales died on the battlefield. A fierce, silly child, mad for war.’
‘The news will have reached Angers,’ remarked Nicholas. ‘They will probably cancel St Vincent.’
‘You are going to the Duke of Burgundy now, at Hesdin?’ the fat man asked.
Nicholas looked surprised. ‘Who in his senses would miss such an occasion? Fireworks, bonfires, rejoicing: York on the throne, and his ducal good-brother en fête? It’ll be like Negroponte. Of course I am going to the Duke. I have my wife Gelis to meet.’
He rode off, and did not know how long Jordan de Ribérac brooded alone in the saddle, looking after him.
Chapter 4
ON THE THIRTEENTH day of June, ten days after her husband left Ham, the lady Gelis van Borselen completed her journey from Cologne to Bruges, which she had left sixteen months before in the train of Anselm Adorne’s so-called pilgrimage.
From that extraordinary journey, Adorne had returned in April to his own grand house in Bruges, together with his son and his niece. Gelis had not seen him since he left Venice, and she avoided him now, not least because his home was sheltering the little royal lady she had once served, Mary of Scotland. Gelis did not want to meet the lady Mary at present, and have to answer her puzzled enquiries.
She had had to decide, before leaving Cologne, where best to settle in Bruges, to wait out the interim until her husband chose to communicate. She made the choice on her own. For three months, Julius had helped her balance her life with his careless goodwill and ample energy and total lack of involvement, but she refused to yield to his insatiable curiosity. Fortunately his interests at present were deeply engaged somewhere else.
On her own, therefore, she had determined to make no present demands on the courtesy of Adorne or invite the anxious questions of her former mistress by calling at the Hôtel Jerusalem, or risk the condemnation of her cousins by descending upon the Wolfaert van Borselens at Veere. She could have leased again the house she had shared with Margot and the child, together with Clémence de Coulanges and old Pasque, who had been so quick to desert her for Nicholas – or so she assumed. If they were not with Nicholas, no one had heard of them. If they were not with Nicholas, the child was lost as perhaps Nicholas wanted him lost, with everything taken away that was dear.
It was four months since she had seen her son, and he had only been two. She tried not to think of it, for even though she believed she had wrung her throat dry, fresh rivers