To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [348]
‘Mother of God! Does the Duke know?’ Julius said.
Nicholas glanced at the hour-glass. ‘Not yet. Hugonet will break the news. Then the Emperor will send his official regrets later tomorrow. The day after that, the Duke will be called to the Palace for the final leave-taking, at which he will be shown every honour. I quote.’
‘That’s Thursday!’ Julius said. ‘He’s leaving on the day he was supposed to be crowned! My God. The Cathedral. The robes. The hangings. The carpentry. The provisions …’
‘And all we’ve done,’ said John slowly. ‘Nicholas! The choirs? Everything gone?’
‘Not at all,’ Nicholas said. ‘Move them around. The street decorations can stay; everything else can be stuffed into the Palace for the Emperor’s reception on Thursday, barring the crown and sceptre and banner, of course. At least the Duke’s leave-taking should be spectacular, and the Emperor will have to foot all the bills. You can start on it tomorrow. Today. I have to go to the Abbey.’
‘The Duke’ll be mad,’ Julius said. ‘But I suppose that you feel you must go. And you’ll want to arrange what to do about Gelis.’
‘That was in my mind,’ Nicholas said.
He had sent her a note, asking her to receive him on Wednesday. Today. Even now, he had not broken the embargo: merely stated that he had been forced to alter his plans. She would realise why, soon enough. Soon enough, the whole of the Burgundian court would explode, like Hekla, scorching everyone within reach. He didn’t know what would happen after that, and he didn’t want to wait to find out. He wanted to come to the end of this conflict, this mission, today.
Her note, agreeing, came just after dawn, brought by a man who had had to shoulder his way through the crowds in the streets. The news was out. He couldn’t go out yet himself, although his own arrangements were well in hand: he had seen no point in going to bed. Now, he had been warned, he had to wait for an audience with the Emperor. He supposed he was about to be thanked and even paid for all he had done these two months, on secondment from Burgundy. For the sake of the Bank, he must comply.
The moment that he entered the Imperial chamber, he realised that he was wrong. The gifts were there on a table: a pair of silver-gilt goblets, a sable-lined cloak, a pouch, a paper folded with the Imperial seal. The Emperor sat in his chair of state, preparing to deliver them. But the man at his side was Ludovico da Bologna, who specialised in demands, not in thanks.
This time, it was the Emperor who, after the presentation, after the praise, sought to know the precise position of the Banco di Niccolò in the war against the Ottoman Turk.
Nicholas had replied, as he was expected to reply, that he was a servant of Burgundy, and that Burgundy was constrained by the threat from King Louis.
‘It is understood,’ said the Emperor. ‘But does it seem to my lord of Beltrees that Burgundy’s power, augmented by the might of the Bank, will be directed against the Most Christian King of France? Or will it be required to waste its strength on small issues, from which the Bank might draw rather less credit?’
The voice of Sigismond of the Tyrol. The voice, even, of Eleanor of Scotland, his wife. Nicholas said, ‘Highness, I understand the issues. I have to consider what will best serve the Bank. It had been my hope to return to the East representing both the Empire and Burgundy. That hope has gone.’
‘Does it seem so?’ said the Emperor. ‘My friend the Patriarch appears to think differently. He thinks the Duke might be willing to allow us to retain your services for a little.’
‘For the sake of the future,’ said the Patriarch. His crucifix, big as a stirrup, reflected the unshaven part of his jowls, and his grin. ‘You could take your wife and child with you. Consult them. Consult monseigneur your illustrious Duke. My lord Emperor merely requests that you give him your reply by tomorrow. He offers you material rewards, which will be