Niccolo Rising (51 page)

“We are playing chess again,” he said. “How very forward we are. But is this the best you can do to convince me of your good faith? Will you not extract what secrets, what coin you may from us all, and then abscond from the good lady your employer? Abscond to Venice, perhaps. I am told on the best of authority that you already have a modicum salted away and we know, of course, of the high regard of the Acciajuoli. How can I be sure that the secrets of my dispatches will remain secure in the hands of such a code-breaker?”

The Dauphin had put his fingers together, his gaze tranquil. Claes considered. The other men had ceased eating. Speaking in murmurs, they paid no apparent attention to the discussion. The astrologer, whose name he still didn’t know, had rejoined them. A man emerged from the trees where the horses were, looked round and went back quickly, but not before Claes had seen him.

Claes said, “Well, my lord, that’s the trouble about messengers. You can never tell. You can reward them so highly that they’ll favour you more than the other fellow; but you can’t know if the other fellow isn’t doing the same. You can threaten, and if he makes a mistake, of course
you have him. But the only sure way is not to engage him. My lord, my mistress is well paid by the Duke and by the Medici. There is no need for you to employ me.”

The Dauphin picked a piece of grass and held it at arm’s length, studying it. He folded his arm and held it, twirling before him. “You are perfectly right. What advantage could I possibly expect that would offset such a danger?”

Claes gazed at the prince’s dark face. “You could retain me for formal messages only, and trust the others to better-accredited couriers, if you have them.”

The grass twirled. “Now, here’s a sorry lack of ambition! A boy who can outwit astrologers, but cannot see how to turn his talents to money!” The Dauphin looked up. “Jean, mon compère. What do you know about ciphers?”

Bourré the secretary. One of the seated men rose, came over and knelt. “All too little, monseigneur.”

“And here we have an expert.” The blade of grass indicated Claes.

“My friend,” said the Dauphin to Claes, “Your skill is worth money. Do you not realise it? A great deal of money. Provided that it is devoted exclusively to ourselves. Messer Cosimo, Messer Cicco are my very good friends, but their ciphers are already the best in the world. It is we, struggling behind, who need your talents.”

Claes looked from prince to secretary. He said humbly, “Of course, monseigneur. I should be honoured. That is, a servant may only achieve as much as his ability lets him, and there may be some matters where my meddling might cause only damage. Monseigneur understands.”

“Naturally,” said the Dauphin. He smiled at de la Barde.

“And again –” said Claes with diffidence.

“Yes?” This time, the Dauphin was less patient.

Claes said, “I beg the Dauphin’s pardon. But the more time I spend on such affairs, the less I have to give to the Charetty business. Monsieur Felix, as you know, is an able youth, and will one day be a worthy head of the company, but at present is much distracted by other pleasures.”

The Dauphin flung out his arms. “You hear, my friends! I am being taken to task for my hospitality! Will you deprive me of the company of this charming youth? I flatter myself that he, too, will be grieved. How he has enjoyed viewing our kennels, riding our horses, learning the martial skills!”

Claes said nothing.

The Dauphin dropped his arms. “But you are right. Duty calls. His family need him. I shall no longer seduce him from his dyevats. But what shall I say to him?”

Claes said, “He will be heartbroken, I know. I wonder if I dare suggest to my lord a final summons for some special feast-day, where
Monsieur Felix’s presence at Genappe would not discommode him? Say the second Sunday after Easter?”

The eyes held his, then turned to the secretary. “Of course! So it shall be,” said the Dauphin. “My friend Monseiur Bourré will note it. Young Monsieur Felix will receive the invitation. And we shall see that he does not refuse it. That is what you wish?”

“That is so exactly,” said Claes. “My lord, these things should profit us all. I am grateful.”

“Well!” said the Dauphin. He threw the grass away. He put a hand on his secretary’s shoulder and rose. Above the boots his knees turned markedly towards each other. Above them, thin and muscular thighs disappeared into his short hunting skirts. His eyes under the sugarloaf hat rested on the rest of the company, who had already scrambled to their feet and were beginning to close and order the baskets. From the trees came the sound of horses stamping. The Dauphin glanced at Claes who had risen also but now, rapidly, knelt.

The Dauphin said, “We understand one another. You are a good boy, and will serve me well. Monsieur Bourré here will send for you, and Monsieur Arnoulphin, whom you already know. You have, I hope, already been recompensed for the suit of armour?”

“To the last penny of the pawn ticket,” said Claes with gratitude.

The Dauphin frowned. “We should have done better than that. Monsieur de la Barde!”

The best-dressed of the others came forward. “I shall see to it, monseigneur.”

The Dauphin’s smile flashed again towards Claes. “You understand, my child. You do not leave this hut dressed in cloth of gold with rings on your fingers or even gold in your purse. But you will not be a poor man as a result of this day. Provided only you are loyal, as you will be. The alternative does not bear thinking of. Now God speed you.”

Claes kissed the hard fingers and rose, and backed, and bumped into Raymond du Lyon who turned him round by the elbow and walked a dozen paces from the clearing. His horse was waiting there with his saddle, mended, upon it. The man at arms said, “You were stunned by the fall, and a field-worker cared for you. The hunt is not far away. You know where to recover your arms?”

“Under the hoe,” said Claes. “Unless someone has stolen the hoe. It’s late to start back.”

Raymond du Lyon showed his three broken teeth. “Your young Monsieur Felix has had a message already from the Dauphin’s steward, regretting that his lord has changed his plans and a meeting cannot now be expected. But a room has been arranged for you both on your way back at Wavre. There will be nothing to pay.”

“That will please Monsieur Felix,” said Claes. His arms were soon found. He took leave of Gaston’s brother and rode off. He felt slightly
breathless, as he had in February, climbing out of the frozen water. Somewhere under the shock, a feeling of pleasure was struggling with a very sensible apprehension.

Chapter 24

W
EARING COURT
dress, including a hennin, Katelina van Borselen rode through the streets of Ghent with her parents and a handsome retinue, below the Veere banner. With her, she carried her liege lord Duke Philip’s permission to visit Brittany, there to take up her post as maid of honour to the widowed Scots Duchess. Tomorrow she and her party were passing to Zeeland. Tonight they had rooms in one of the great inns of Ghent. They were turning into the courtyard when her father stopped yet again to greet someone he knew, and his wife and daughter and servants halted once more obediently.

Then Katelina saw that the person he was greeting was the son of Marian de Charetty, and that behind him were two grooms and Claes. Claes, whom she had not seen since the morning after the Carnival. Claes, who had taken, very courteously, what she had enjoined upon him, and then had taken it again, she was rather pleased to remember, purely for his own enjoyment. Unless he was rather cleverer even than she had thought.

At no time, either next morning nor later, had she felt ashamed of what had happened. She had chosen well. She had not been roughly treated. Her initiation, she was ready to believe, had, from its circumstances, been more careful than she could have expected at the wedded hands of the seigneur’s son from Courtrai, or even Guildolf de Gruuthuse, never mind Jordan de Ribérac and his nasty son. She was grateful to Claes, although he had made one miscalculation. He had, as he had said, wakened her too far.

You would think, then, that she would have been eager, for the first time, to study the renewed lists of suitors, young and old, which her mother was pressing upon her. That she would, with this curious ache which now visited her, have sought the company of the young men who came to her house, and escorted her family and tried to please her. It was ridiculous that she did not. They said that a duckling, born out of sight of its mother, would follow the first form it set eyes on. Heaven
forfend that she was to spend the rest of her life looking for someone who, put in a bathtub, spoke like … looked like … handled her like the boy Claes.

She thought particularly about their next meeting. Despite their difference in rank, Claes and she were bound to encounter one another in the weeks to come. She could trust him, she believed, not to be familiar. But the circumstances demanded some acknowledgement – some change of attitude, a special friendliness, even in public. She had to deal with that, and so had he.

She found, in any case, that she was curious to know what became of him. She discovered that, as courier, his status had risen a little; that his employer was giving him experience about the various forms of her business. Claes was permitted to escort Marian de Charetty nowadays to business meetings and was not treated entirely as a servant, but was allowed to sit quietly behind and sometimes make notes, as if he were Meester Julius. Of course, it suited a respectable woman to have servant and bodyguard both. Speaking of Claes, people still laughed.

But although Katelina heard of him, no encounter with Claes had taken place. Since the night of the Carnival, she had glimpsed him only once, and that on the following morning, when the household had been drawn to its windows by an unaccustomed shaking of bells. Called by their merriment she had gone too, and so had seen Claes skipping by, his creased blue clothes weirdly decked out with goat bells, and a flock of goats trotting behind him. He had looked round in elastic response to the catcalls, returning happily insult for insult, his eyes searching the casements. From her window she had tried to convey in her smile the freedom and gentleness she felt that morning, and made for him a movement of her hands which said, All is well.

And now they were meeting again. He looked older. In six or seven weeks, that was impossible. Different work made people’s faces settle in different lines. A life indoors in cellars and dyesheds amid heat and harsh vapours had formed in him an appearance she remembered as rounder and softer. His unusually open eyes, looking at her now, conveyed an expression that was friendly; muted; apologetic; a little daunted. Apologetic because, she assumed, he had not anticipated the encounter. But, clearly, there was no harm done. She was on her way forthwith to Brittany, and he must leave soon, she supposed, for Milan.

The raw, jagged scar no longer leaped to the eye, but was just a heavy pink mark, as if a stick of dye had been drawn down his cheek. He was wearing the same doublet and jacket she had dried for him in front of the fire. The rip had been mended and the cloth well pressed and looked after.

The boy Felix, on the other hand, looked as if some accident had befallen him. Half the flounces on his violet overjacket were torn, and he wore a hat quite at odds with the rest of him. Her father, she saw, was
putting questions to him. Behind, Claes was responding, with a small bow, to the smile of her mother. Then his gaze switched to Katelina herself, his smile deepening as he studied her steeple headdress.

Her mother approved of Claes, who had been such an exemplary escort for Gelis on the night of the Carnival. The manservant, heavily bribed, had taken Gelis home that night as if nothing had happened. The porters at her father’s house were even simpler to deal with. No one seemed to have suborned them. They had seen a masked escort leave with her, and arrive back. They hadn’t seen him emerge because, as Katelina explained to her mother, he had left almost at once by the postern. Her mother, listening, had been inclined to be severe over her rejection of Guildolf de Gruuthuse. Katelina had not made it perfectly clear that the rejection had taken place at the beginning, not the end of the evening. She didn’t suppose that Guildolf would boast of it. She hadn’t spoken to either parent, after all, about Jordan de Ribérac.

The vicomte de Ribérac had left Bruges the following day. She had found that out herself with some trouble. Claes, she learned, had been enquiring as well. She had felt relief, and a sense of being protected. This was nonsense. If anything in this world was certain, it was the death of Claes, if de Riéerac ever found out what had happened. Claes knew how necessary it was to take precautions.

Anyway, she had her parents to shield her. Except that her parents, again, were discussing suitors. This time there was no escape from it. She was not likely, now, to choose a nunnery. She chose Brittany. If life wouldn’t open its gates for her, she would force them.

No. She had already done that.

Her partner in that experience was, at the moment, busy shutting them again. Yes, jonkheere Felix was passing the night also in Ghent. No, Claes regretted that he had not bespoken beds for jonkheere Felix and himself at this inn, but another. Had he not told jonkheere Felix? He must have forgotten.

Her father, goodnatured man, didn’t press the young fellows to change their arrangements. The inn was an expensive one. On the contrary, he invited the good son of his old friend Cornelis to join him and his family for supper. And of course, to bring Claes, who had been so protective of their young Gelis. A tribute indeed, thought Katelina, to Bruges’ view of Claes’ improved prospects. Felix, delighted, accepted, and his harbinger, overruled, said nothing more.

Claes, her father had called him. It was the name all Bruges knew him by: perhaps they would never allow him another. It was the name which, with great determination, she had continued to give him in her mind ever since that night. She had not forgotten the things he had said, which were true.