To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [332]
‘And David de Salmeton? Are we meant to believe all this?’ Gelis asked.
‘Do you find it hard to think of sweet David in quite these terms? Tobie doesn’t.’
‘Nor do I,’ Gregorio said. ‘I hope he’s dead.’
The owlish gaze had turned directly on Gelis. She said, ‘Is he?’
‘No,’ Nicholas said. ‘Not even in prison. I let him off. Aren’t you pleased?’
‘ You let him off!’ She gazed at him.
It was Tobie who answered, his voice curt. ‘The King’s mother asked Nicholas to let him go, and he did. Of course, de Salmeton can never return.’
‘So where has he gone?’ Gelis asked.
‘There are several possible places,’ Nicholas said, ‘if my prayers have been listened to. But he may be somewhere else, and quite happy, bathed in a saintly light and enjoying intimacy with God. So, you want to come with me? With Jordan?’
She had goaded him, and he had replied. She stared at him, dizzy still. Then she said, ‘It might be amusing.’
‘It might be. Can you be packed by, say, tomorrow?’
‘That’s asking a bit much,’ said Tobie.
‘Is it? You don’t need to come,’ Nicholas said, getting up. ‘Neither does Gelis. I imagine she can get herself over the Alps on her own.’
‘Will you stop it, Nicol?’ said Gregorio. ‘Go and rest, for God’s sake. But before you do, here’s something I haven’t told you yet.’
‘There is no end to the Divine Bounty,’ Nicholas said. ‘So what have you found for me now, outside perpetual chastity?’
Gregorio ignored it. ‘You remember Paúel Benecke?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. He sat down again.
‘He had a stroke of luck,’ Gregorio said. ‘Back in April. He was hanging about in the Narrow Seas in a caravel when he saw these two Florentine ships leaving Sluys for Southampton.’
‘Goro?’ Nicholas said. His eyes had begun to gleam.
‘So he attacked and relieved one of its cargo. The other escaped. There’s been a great fuss.’
Margot was smiling. Tobie was looking from one speaker to the other. Nicholas said, ‘Florentine ships?’
Gregorio said, ‘Well, really, Burgundian ships. The ones that were built for the Crusade, and Duke Charles let the Medici use them.’
‘Tommaso’s ships?’ Nicholas said. ‘Tommaso Portinari?’
‘I’m afraid so, yes. The one they plundered was the San Matteo. Full of alum and stuff. They’d wintered in Flusa, and were calling at Southampton on their way back to Porto Pisano. Benecke took the whole lot. The thing is, he was sailing under letters of marque, and his ship belonged to some Confrérie of the Church of Our Lady in Danzig. They’ll never get it all back.’
‘Alum?’ Nicholas said. He looked dreamy.
‘And cloth: gold and silk and velvet and satin. Furs and tapestries. Paintings, even. Poor Henne Memling.’
‘Goro,’ Nicholas said. He rose and, carrying his seat in his hand, relocated himself next to Gregorio. Then he put a hand on his shoulder. He said, ‘Tell me very slowly. I don’t want to get too pleased too soon. Henne Memling?’
‘Two huge altar-pieces,’ Gregorio said. He was crimson now. ‘Huge. On their way to be put up in Florence. And one of them was The Last Judgement.’
‘Paradise,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Hell, of course. And all those nude ladies and gentlemen. Including Tommaso, with his head painted on foil, and someone else’s bodily ticket to the Gates of St Peter. And Paúel Benecke has it: not Tommaso, not Angelo Tani, not the Medici. Oh, what shall we do? How can we celebrate?’
‘Give me that,’ Tobie said. He emptied the cup Nicholas had been drinking from, and thumped it back down by the wine-flask. He said, ‘That’s how you celebrate.’
‘Oh dear,’ Gelis said.
Margot touched her with a finger. ‘Come with me. We can drink on our own.’ She was exchanging smiles with Gregorio.
‘In the terems,’ Gelis said mildly. She tried not to show what she felt. Nicholas drunk had always been easier to manage than Nicholas tinkering about with the full unappetising range of his faculties. She had an advantage already.
The advantage was somewhat short-lived,