time, she’d squealed out that she wasn’t a pourceau . The second, he’d found a way of driving her gradually crazy. There was no doubt she needed a man. He had to stop at the door, he wanted so much to go back.
Vander Poele said, ‘Don’t light it. So, what?’ He sounded as tired as if he had done it himself, after all.
Crackbene said, ‘Worth every farthing. She’s sworn to say she’s no claim if she breeds. And by God, you were right. She’d have tried to blame her last child on me if it wasn’t eighteen months old and black-headed. The father’s the pig-man at Dean, but won’t own it. Did you speak?’
‘An accident of the soul. Of the wine. I left a ducat. Consider it doubled.’
‘Why?’ said Crackbene. ‘Listen, I need a light. You don’t know what state I’m in.’
He struck flint and relit the lamp on the way to the corner. When he got back vander Poele had rolled over to sleep, head on arms, like a stone; like a corpse on a beach. Crackbene crashed down beside him, and sighed, and opened his mouth to the first, glorious snore.
Chapter 5
N EXT DAY, NATURALLY , a packet from Bruges arrived in the Canongate, and M. de Fleury, having left Haddington at dawn, received it with no delay whatever. He opened and spread out all the pages, both those which were written in clear, and those in trading code, which Julius and Jannekin could read just as easily. Gregorio – who else? – had set down the news he had already gathered in Haddington. That is, the theme was the same. He read it for the variations.
Visited by the petty ills of first breeding, the lady Gelis van Borselen, dame de Fleury, had withdrawn for convenience to a convent. Her doctors had advised against visitors, and M. de Fleury should not hasten home. Indeed , wrote Gregorio, it was felt that the extra excitement might harm her .
M. de Fleury framed soundless praise for Gregorio. His head turned, from lack of sleep, and then settled immediately.
‘I know what he means,’ Julius said. ‘My God, you had enough premarital excitement between you, rumour said, to last you the first ten years of official matrimony.’ Julius, the perpetual bachelor, had received this dynastic news with some lack of enthusiasm. Jannekin Bonkle, on the contrary, had wrung his old playmate’s hand and assured him that his father would preside at the christening. Mick Crackbene, as Nicholas had cause to know, was quite indifferent both to the event and to its implications.
Julius now leaned over the paper. ‘My God, what did you pay for that ring? Is that all Gregorio says?’
‘Look,’ said Nicholas de Fleury, showing the papers. It was all that was personal. It preceded many pages of financial detail from Venice and Bruges, plus the latest of the Signoria’s demands that he should either pay them or fight for them. The smith was on hisway, which was good. Of other family news there was nothing. Gregorio could not use a closed code, or Julius would instantly have suspected collusion.
Julius said, ‘He’s put four extra words on the back. For God’s sake, write . We replied to all his last letters? Are the answers going astray?’
‘Send the last one again,’ Nicholas said. Gregorio’s words were dug into the paper, in the way that happened when he was especially angry. Nicholas had no intention of writing. He said, ‘Come on. I’ll deal with this later. We have this tournament to arrange. And I want to see the Berecrofts family and settle this licence. And what about Simon, membrum diaboli ?’
‘He’s coming to the tournament,’ Julius said.
‘Nobody has told him I’m not taking part?’
‘You’re really not?’ Julius said. ‘You aren’t at all bad.’
‘Thank you. I’ll give you a little fight all of your own one of these days, when you’re not feeling too well. I didn’t leave Bruges, bloated with temporal possessions, to receive my final accounting in Scotland.’
‘Of course,’ said Julius. ‘You won’t want
Vander Poele said, ‘Don’t light it. So, what?’ He sounded as tired as if he had done it himself, after all.
Crackbene said, ‘Worth every farthing. She’s sworn to say she’s no claim if she breeds. And by God, you were right. She’d have tried to blame her last child on me if it wasn’t eighteen months old and black-headed. The father’s the pig-man at Dean, but won’t own it. Did you speak?’
‘An accident of the soul. Of the wine. I left a ducat. Consider it doubled.’
‘Why?’ said Crackbene. ‘Listen, I need a light. You don’t know what state I’m in.’
He struck flint and relit the lamp on the way to the corner. When he got back vander Poele had rolled over to sleep, head on arms, like a stone; like a corpse on a beach. Crackbene crashed down beside him, and sighed, and opened his mouth to the first, glorious snore.
Chapter 5
N EXT DAY, NATURALLY , a packet from Bruges arrived in the Canongate, and M. de Fleury, having left Haddington at dawn, received it with no delay whatever. He opened and spread out all the pages, both those which were written in clear, and those in trading code, which Julius and Jannekin could read just as easily. Gregorio – who else? – had set down the news he had already gathered in Haddington. That is, the theme was the same. He read it for the variations.
Visited by the petty ills of first breeding, the lady Gelis van Borselen, dame de Fleury, had withdrawn for convenience to a convent. Her doctors had advised against visitors, and M. de Fleury should not hasten home. Indeed , wrote Gregorio, it was felt that the extra excitement might harm her .
M. de Fleury framed soundless praise for Gregorio. His head turned, from lack of sleep, and then settled immediately.
‘I know what he means,’ Julius said. ‘My God, you had enough premarital excitement between you, rumour said, to last you the first ten years of official matrimony.’ Julius, the perpetual bachelor, had received this dynastic news with some lack of enthusiasm. Jannekin Bonkle, on the contrary, had wrung his old playmate’s hand and assured him that his father would preside at the christening. Mick Crackbene, as Nicholas had cause to know, was quite indifferent both to the event and to its implications.
Julius now leaned over the paper. ‘My God, what did you pay for that ring? Is that all Gregorio says?’
‘Look,’ said Nicholas de Fleury, showing the papers. It was all that was personal. It preceded many pages of financial detail from Venice and Bruges, plus the latest of the Signoria’s demands that he should either pay them or fight for them. The smith was on hisway, which was good. Of other family news there was nothing. Gregorio could not use a closed code, or Julius would instantly have suspected collusion.
Julius said, ‘He’s put four extra words on the back. For God’s sake, write . We replied to all his last letters? Are the answers going astray?’
‘Send the last one again,’ Nicholas said. Gregorio’s words were dug into the paper, in the way that happened when he was especially angry. Nicholas had no intention of writing. He said, ‘Come on. I’ll deal with this later. We have this tournament to arrange. And I want to see the Berecrofts family and settle this licence. And what about Simon, membrum diaboli ?’
‘He’s coming to the tournament,’ Julius said.
‘Nobody has told him I’m not taking part?’
‘You’re really not?’ Julius said. ‘You aren’t at all bad.’
‘Thank you. I’ll give you a little fight all of your own one of these days, when you’re not feeling too well. I didn’t leave Bruges, bloated with temporal possessions, to receive my final accounting in Scotland.’
‘Of course,’ said Julius. ‘You won’t want
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