surgeon, to see to the cranemen.”
The doctor Tobias, lifting his head with some trouble, said with drunken solemnity, “No need for that. I’m a surgeon.”
He rose, arms outstretched, single sleeve dangling, and began to weave his way to the door, slapping his feet into fresh floods of colour. Rainbow bubbles rose from his heels. Arrested, he stamped, making more of them. He watched them rise. He turned and blew them, with a large and deliberate bounty towards the swaying Lionetto, upon whom they burst like fried eggs.
Julius, swiftly calculating the cost of the silk doublet under the gold and (glass?) rubies, was not surprised to see dawning rage on the captain’s roughened face. The Greek said, “Ah, there is our friend Claes, come to chastise me. But indeed, I did deliver your message to Felix. He will tell you.”
“Forgive me.” It was Anselm Adorne, intervening, in Italian. “Forgive me, Messer de’ Acciajuoli. You saw the boy this morning?”
No unspoken message from Felix, no fierce counter-appeal from Julius, no beseeching gaze from the rest of the youths prevented Nicholai de’ Acciajuoli from saying what he wanted to say.
“Through the prison window, of course. Unfortunate lad. He gave me a message for this young gentleman. What was it? Not to do it .”
“Not to do what, Monsignore?” said Adorne gently.
The Greek smiled. “That is his secret. Something, no doubt, they had planned together. Do you imagine it is safe to go out?”
Anselm Adorne turned his fair head and divided his gaze between the pale face of Felix de Charetty and the artless one of Claes the apprentice. “Yes. Tell us,” he said. “Is it safe to go out?”
Claes and Felix looked at one another, and Julius shut his eyes.
The expression on the apprentice’s face was not without cloud. It was, perhaps, more that of one who meant to please, and hoped to be liked for it. “It should be,” said Claes. “If everything went according to plan, it should be, monsignore. Meester Julius, is it true that –”
“My doublet is ruined,” said Lionetto. The doctor had gone.
“Meester Julius –”
“Do I understand,” said Lionetto, “that this lout is responsible for the mess that has ruined my doublet?” His admiration of Claes, it was clear, had undergone a transformation.
No one answered. Anselm Adorne, eyebrows raised, looked at Julius. Felix looked at Claes, his lips parted. Claes, persevering, said, “Meester Julius. Is it true that the Lady is coming from Louvain, and captain Astorre with her?”
“Yes,” said Julius shortly.
“Oh,” said Claes. His saucer eyes rested on Julius.
“ Astorre! ” hissed Lionetto. “Astorre!” he repeated, voice rising. “That block of criminal stupidity is coming here, to Bruges, while I am in town? Is he tired of life, Astorre? Or is he wooing the widow, Astorre? Retiring from the lost battles to take his ease in a dyeshop? Is that why he is here?”
Anselm Adorne turned. “The widow of Charetty employs him, captain Lionetto. I fear your doublet is stained. Would it not be wise to have it attended to? The way is clear outside, I believe.”
Julius said, “Minen heere, it is not known yet what caused this.”
Adorne’s smile had faded. He said, “But it will be known fairly soon. I think, Meester Julius, you should take your pupil and your apprentice back to their residence, and stay there until your mistress arrives. She, I make no doubt, will have something to say to you. By that time so, perhaps, will we.”
Felix said, “Meester Julius had nothing to do with it. Nothing. And Claes was in prison.” He had flushed.
“It has been noted,” said Adorne. “It will be our endeavour, as always, to see justice done. It is a pity the need should arise quite so often.”
But he was not looking at Julius at all, but at the Greek.
Chapter 6
W ITHIN A WEEK , the widow of Charetty arrived at the Ghent Gate of Bruges and passed over its bridge and through its
The doctor Tobias, lifting his head with some trouble, said with drunken solemnity, “No need for that. I’m a surgeon.”
He rose, arms outstretched, single sleeve dangling, and began to weave his way to the door, slapping his feet into fresh floods of colour. Rainbow bubbles rose from his heels. Arrested, he stamped, making more of them. He watched them rise. He turned and blew them, with a large and deliberate bounty towards the swaying Lionetto, upon whom they burst like fried eggs.
Julius, swiftly calculating the cost of the silk doublet under the gold and (glass?) rubies, was not surprised to see dawning rage on the captain’s roughened face. The Greek said, “Ah, there is our friend Claes, come to chastise me. But indeed, I did deliver your message to Felix. He will tell you.”
“Forgive me.” It was Anselm Adorne, intervening, in Italian. “Forgive me, Messer de’ Acciajuoli. You saw the boy this morning?”
No unspoken message from Felix, no fierce counter-appeal from Julius, no beseeching gaze from the rest of the youths prevented Nicholai de’ Acciajuoli from saying what he wanted to say.
“Through the prison window, of course. Unfortunate lad. He gave me a message for this young gentleman. What was it? Not to do it .”
“Not to do what, Monsignore?” said Adorne gently.
The Greek smiled. “That is his secret. Something, no doubt, they had planned together. Do you imagine it is safe to go out?”
Anselm Adorne turned his fair head and divided his gaze between the pale face of Felix de Charetty and the artless one of Claes the apprentice. “Yes. Tell us,” he said. “Is it safe to go out?”
Claes and Felix looked at one another, and Julius shut his eyes.
The expression on the apprentice’s face was not without cloud. It was, perhaps, more that of one who meant to please, and hoped to be liked for it. “It should be,” said Claes. “If everything went according to plan, it should be, monsignore. Meester Julius, is it true that –”
“My doublet is ruined,” said Lionetto. The doctor had gone.
“Meester Julius –”
“Do I understand,” said Lionetto, “that this lout is responsible for the mess that has ruined my doublet?” His admiration of Claes, it was clear, had undergone a transformation.
No one answered. Anselm Adorne, eyebrows raised, looked at Julius. Felix looked at Claes, his lips parted. Claes, persevering, said, “Meester Julius. Is it true that the Lady is coming from Louvain, and captain Astorre with her?”
“Yes,” said Julius shortly.
“Oh,” said Claes. His saucer eyes rested on Julius.
“ Astorre! ” hissed Lionetto. “Astorre!” he repeated, voice rising. “That block of criminal stupidity is coming here, to Bruges, while I am in town? Is he tired of life, Astorre? Or is he wooing the widow, Astorre? Retiring from the lost battles to take his ease in a dyeshop? Is that why he is here?”
Anselm Adorne turned. “The widow of Charetty employs him, captain Lionetto. I fear your doublet is stained. Would it not be wise to have it attended to? The way is clear outside, I believe.”
Julius said, “Minen heere, it is not known yet what caused this.”
Adorne’s smile had faded. He said, “But it will be known fairly soon. I think, Meester Julius, you should take your pupil and your apprentice back to their residence, and stay there until your mistress arrives. She, I make no doubt, will have something to say to you. By that time so, perhaps, will we.”
Felix said, “Meester Julius had nothing to do with it. Nothing. And Claes was in prison.” He had flushed.
“It has been noted,” said Adorne. “It will be our endeavour, as always, to see justice done. It is a pity the need should arise quite so often.”
But he was not looking at Julius at all, but at the Greek.
Chapter 6
W ITHIN A WEEK , the widow of Charetty arrived at the Ghent Gate of Bruges and passed over its bridge and through its
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