Gemini (32 page)

The man’s voice was low. Nicholas turned to him, smiling; and resumed the steep climb in his company. ‘Did my lady send you?’

‘Oh no. It was Master Lowrie was worried, my lord. Mistress Gelis is fine. She could heckle on Satan himself and never mind it, begging your pardon.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Nicholas said, with genuine amusement. Then he sent the man off, for they were approaching his house, and he could hear, muffled, the voice of Henry de St Pol raised in contention inside.

•  •  •

T
HE CONFRONTATION WITH
Satan, aged sixteen, in the full panoply of an Archer of the King’s Guard, had begun a short time before, when Kilmirren’s grandson had arrived on the doorstep and the demands had begun. Even when Gelis had him admitted and he saw for himself that she was alone, Henry had refused to leave. She had time to be thankful that she
was
alone: that Nicholas for once was spared this; that Jodi was elsewhere, doggedly perfecting his martial arts, and would not be required to face the cousin who had once tried to kill him, a baby of three. She knew why that had happened. She supposed that Nicholas knew as well.

Meantime, Nicholas was away, and here was … Here was his other son, about whom Diniz knew, and Dr Tobie, and Father Moriz, and Nicholas and herself. But no one else.

His beauty was breathtaking. Enhanced by young manhood, the fine skin, the brilliant eyes, the gilded hair were carried now by an athlete, slender and straight-backed and graceful. She did not know, she would never know why her sister Katelina, wilfully importuning the servant she took him to be, had contrived to bear this glorious infant to Nicholas but had not allowed him to claim it. Instead, she had found a surrogate father, and married him, and passed the coming child off as his. Simon de St Pol believed that Henry was his only son and true heir. Henry would fight to the death anyone who implied otherwise, and despised Nicholas as a bastard. She, Gelis, had come close to spoiling Nicholas’s life and her own over her jealousy. She had forgiven Nicholas, who was the victim of his own generous nature
(so happy, so often)
. It had taken her longer to forgive her dead sister.

Now the boy, white with hatred, confronted her, cuirass glinting under his tunic, powerful sword sheathed at his side. He had flung his plate gloves aside, scoring the wood of a table. ‘Well?’ he said.

She sat in a chair with a back and arms: always an advantage. She tented her fingers. ‘Henry, you heard me the first time. I don’t know where your uncle is. I don’t know when he’ll return. You don’t want to come back another day?’

‘No.’

‘You wouldn’t like him to come and see you?’

‘No.’

‘You don’t want to tell me what it’s about?’

He stared at her. ‘It amuses you? It won’t if I send the Guard to roust through every tavern and house till they find him.’

Gelis said, ‘The Guard? Henry, I’m sorry. If it’s as serious as that, then let me go myself to Sir David. I’ll get my cloak. You should have said. In fact, I think your uncle is with the King at this moment. I was told not to say so, but if Nicholas is to be arrested, then it must be made
public.’ She had left her chair and was already crossing the room. She stopped beside him. ‘What has he done, Henry? He’s killed somebody? Will it harm you, because you’re related?’

‘I’m not related!’ he said.

She frowned. ‘But you always call him Uncle,’ she said. ‘He told me. I know he likes it. And I’m your aunt and he is my husband.’

Henry smiled. He backed to the door and stood against it. ‘You are clever,’ he said. ‘I grant you that. No, you’re not going out. Neither am I. Suppose we both sit over there, and you tell me about all these delightful family ties. You are his wife, but you slept with my father. Of course, everyone did. So whose son is Jordan? Do you know?’

‘He happens to be mine,’ Nicholas said from the door. ‘So who is your mother? Do you know?’

Gelis drew in her breath. Nicholas, in the grip of real anger, for a second had a look of his son. She said sharply, ‘Stop it, both of you. Henry, he didn’t mean that; he was only protecting me. Sit down, let me send for some wine, and let us deal with this properly. And for Christ’s sake take off those swords. You’re not going to use them, and you look just as close to real men without them.’ She marched off to give orders, but stayed within earshot.

Behind her, Nicholas gave a half-laugh, and her heart eased. He said, ‘That’s marriage for you. I’m sorry. Begin again. What was the matter?’

‘Tell her to go,’ Henry said.

‘She’s bringing the wine,’ Nicholas said. ‘And I’ll only have to repeat it all anyway. Is it Mar?’ Gelis reappeared.

‘Mar!’
said Henry. ‘Why should I come to some failed out-of-work mercenary for advice about Johndie Mar? No. I want back the horses you stole from me. With three more, to compensate for my trouble. And if you don’t tell me where they are now, I’ll get that woman under me the way that my father did.’ He had his sword in his hand. Nicholas started slowly to move, and then stopped.

‘Well, about time,’ Gelis said. Lowrie, entering with a tray, laid it down, caught Nicholas’s eye and left. She said, ‘Sit down, both of you. You can’t drink, Henry, with a sword in your hand. Why on earth should your uncle steal horses? Nicholas, if you don’t sit, I shall take Henry at his word and carry him off to the bedroom. And
that
will frighten him silly.’

Nicholas started to laugh, and did sit. Henry reddened. Gelis walked across with a cup and stood before him. His jaw was set, and his lashes were as long as a woman’s. She said, ‘I heard how you bought Nicholas’s horses. It was a trick, but it was legitimate. If they’re stolen, I suppose you might at once think of him. But why should he do it? If he didn’t complain then, and he didn’t, why should he invite trouble now? You
were bound to want redress. The theft was bound to come to light.’ She paused. ‘You have his groom, haven’t you? What does he say?’

‘He’s off sick,’ said Henry. ‘But I’m told that if I make you come with me to Eck Scougal, I’ll find the horses all right.’ He looked down at his wine, and suddenly drank some.

‘Deliberately placed there?’ Nicholas said, half to himself and half to Gelis. ‘No. Eck would never allow it. In any case, the horses don’t matter: someone will have locked them up somewhere and we may or may not find them again. It was all just to get you to call on me, and hope that youth would prevail over a failed out-of-work mercenary.’

‘You were meant to fight one another?’ Gelis said. It was hard work.

‘I suppose so. Henry, who told you I’d taken the horses?’

The boy set down the cup. ‘No one. I still think that you did.’

‘All right,’ Nicholas said. ‘Then you make a proper complaint, and the Lords in Council will conduct the enquiry. We’ll go now.’

‘I’m afraid,’ Gelis said, ‘that something else is going to happen.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Henry, did you say something about a squad of armed men?’ She could see them through the panes of the window. Lowrie was outside, expostulating once more. She looked at Nicholas, who had very seriously poured himself a second cup of the extremely strong wine. She knew how he felt.

Henry said, ‘I didn’t tell anyone to come.’ He stood up.

The door crashed back on its hinges. A man, rather more heavily armed than Henry and considerably older, stood on the threshold. ‘Ser Nicholas de Fleury of Bruges? I have an order from the Reverend Abbot of Blackfriars to take and place you in detention forthwith.’

‘Why?’ said Nicholas, rising.

‘It isn’t horses?’ said Gelis. ‘I can see horses outside.’

‘Is it horses?’ said Nicholas. Henry’s head turned from one to the other.

The armed man said, ‘These are horses, yes. They brought us. We are to escort you to Blackfriars.’

‘But the horses came from Kilmirren,’ Gelis said.

The man was becoming impatient. ‘They are from the stables at Blackfriars. I do not know where they belong.’

‘Henry?’ Nicholas said. ‘Could the Abbot have stolen your horses?’

There was a moment’s pause. Then Henry said, ‘By mistake, of course. But it’s always possible. Could I see them?’

‘Could he see them?’ said Nicholas. His face was alight. Henry’s blue eyes had started to sparkle.

The captain said, ‘Why? I am not here about horses. I have orders to—’

‘But you have come at the right time. We are investigating the theft of
some horses. A little wine?’ Gelis said. She held the cup under his nose, whose ripeness she had already registered.

‘Well …’ said the captain, sitting down. ‘Mind you, I can’t help you about horses.’

From the door, Gelis gave certain orders and returned. There was a glint of a tray, seen among the squad outside the window. Gelis said, ‘There’s been a theft of horses from Master Henry’s home at Kilmirren. As a member of the King’s Guard, he would naturally feel beholden to helpers. Perhaps you could pass round the word, if he describes them?’

Henry described the horses. Nicholas and the captain both drank. Gelis kept her eyes demurely on her lap. After a while, Nicholas said, ‘By the way, I’m sorry, you came to tell me something?’

The captain, with some trouble, adjusted his expression but did not rise, as his fourth cup was still full. He said, ‘As to that, I’m sorry, m’lord. But the arkshekels went mishing, they say, just after your lo’ship called on the Pipple-Pebble Collector. And I have sworn statements that all of them have been seen in this housh.’

‘What kind of articles?’ Nicholas said.

The inventory meant nothing to Gelis, seeming to consist of various flagons, flasks and pots, chiefly of silver.

Henry suddenly said, ‘Could I see the list?’ The captain handed it over. Nicholas’s eyes wandered over the room, without meeting hers. The boy said, ‘But these weren’t stolen. They arrived in this house as gifts.’

‘How d’you know?’ said the captain. He said it in a mannerly way. This St Pol might be no more than a lad, but he wore the royal cipher.

Henry said, ‘I was living here when they arrived. I saw them all.’

‘A gift, who from?’ said the captain.

Nicholas brought his eyes down, and Henry met them. Henry said, ‘No one knew. They came directed to Ser Nicol, along with small unsigned notes.’

‘Oh? ’Sha pity no one kept ’em, then,’ said the man.

His expression odd, Nicholas was gazing at Henry. He said, removing his eyes, ‘As a matter of fact I did keep them. I have all the notes. I hoped, of course, to thank the sender, but never found out who he was. So I passed the silver to the Abbot of Holyrood.’

‘Eh, what?’ said the man.

‘To the Abbot of Holyrood. They were really too expensive to keep, and I could think of no one better. Good Lord,’ Nicholas said with surprise. ‘If I’d chosen Blackfriars instead, then all this nuisance could have been avoided.’

The man left, his cup empty, and the soldiers outside helped him into the saddle and left. Nicholas had not been arrested. A visit would be paid to the Abbot of Holyrood, and the two monasteries would reach an
accommodation in private. The captain was heard to remark, with queasy laughter, that knowing those two wily bashtards, he wouldn’ guarantee it wouldn’ all end in blushet-blushid’n’ murder.

Coming back from the door, Gelis said, ‘I think you were both a disgrace. The Church will never recover. Henry, seriously, what do you want done about the horses? It wasn’t Nicholas, but then you’d expect us to say that in any case.’

‘I was mistaken,’ Henry said. ‘That is, the person who told me was mistaken. I’ll look for them myself.’

‘I’ll help you,’ Nicholas said. ‘So will that poor man-at-arms you beguiled. And Eck has brood mares coming from Flanders. If you send to one of the Browns, they’ll keep back some for you at Berwick. Have you been down to Berwick yet?’

‘I thought of going,’ said Henry.

‘Well, the
Karel’s
busy,’ said Nicholas. ‘But you’d get a ride on the
Marie
or th
e James
, if you keep out of the way of John le Grant.’

It was risky. Henry’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not afraid of John le Grant.’

‘No. But he’s bloody afraid of you,’ Nicholas said. ‘In fact, he’s forgotten what happened. You’re in Scotland, your own country now. You can’t put a foot wrong. You can’t put a foot right, either, after all the drink that you’ve had. Neither can I. Gelis, we need to be helped.’

‘Whenever didn’t you?’ Gelis said.

I
N BED, HOLDING
him in her arms, she said, ‘Davie Simpson?’

‘Yes,’ he said. It was warm, and the bedding was all over the floor. ‘At least, he sent the silver, although I can’t prove it. I suspect he stole the horses and set Henry on me as well.’

‘Henry spoke up for you,’ Gelis said. She turned her head. ‘The first time. The very first time.’

Against her skin, his face became still. His eyes were open. Then they flickered and he said, ‘Don’t count on it too much. It comes and goes. He didn’t report that the silver was Simpson’s, although he knew it.’

‘He doesn’t want his grandfather to know,’ Gelis said. ‘One hint of that unholy alliance, and Jordan de St Pol would kill Henry, or Simpson, or both.’

‘Perhaps we should tell Grandfather,’ Nicholas said. There was a strand of bitterness in it.

She said nothing. His rough hair, damp from exertion, lay under her chin, and below that she could see the sturdy curve of his cheekbone, and the scatter of lashes, so unlike the thick, silky sweep of his son’s; and the severe nose with its curling, fastidious nostril which was yet another part of his chaotic heritage.

After a long while, he said, ‘Of course not,’ and after another short space: ‘I couldn’t do this without you.’

She said, ‘You can. You have done.’

‘But not by way of laughter,’ he said. ‘He let himself enjoy that. He can’t be my son, but perhaps he could be …’

‘What?’ She was very gentle.

‘It doesn’t matter. A friend. Gelis? I love you in so many ways.’

‘I know. Lie quiet,’ she said.

H
E TOOK HIS
other son, without Gelis, to see his wee Aunty Bel.

Now Jodi did not have to be lifted to rap on the front door, and he took off his cap without being prompted as he entered the parlour of the St Pol house over the road.