To Lie with Lions (10 page)

‘You would like me to bankrupt the Vatachino,’ Nicholas said. It was something he had frequently attempted himself, as had others. The company Vatachino, brokers, dealers, traders with an unproved connection with Genoa, were not popular in the merchant community. Better men than the vicomte longed to have them exterminated.

‘It would suit me,’ agreed the fat man. ‘It would suit you as well. Every company with a fleet suffers from them, and I have had enough vessels plundered this year without that. Bring your army over the Somme, and together we can crush the Vatachino.’

‘My army!’ said Nicholas. He tried to sound surprised. Outside, the courtyard, which had cleared, became suddenly busy again. A groom ran to the stables and was followed by several others. A man emerged from the castle dressed for travelling, servants hurrying after. Below the cloak was a sparkle of gold and a glimpse of fringed crimson. Nicholas said, ‘My army, as well as Duke René’s plans?’

‘We spoke of a scale of reward. And of the joint destruction of the Vatachino interests.’

‘But,’ said Nicholas, ‘I want to destroy your interests much more than I do those of the Vatachino.’

‘Have I ruled that out?’ said the vicomte. ‘You may join France and still try to defeat me in business, as you might stay with Burgundy and match yourself against Anselm Adorne. The difference is that Adorne has Duke Charles to protect him, whereas the Vatachino have no friends in France. Give your support to King Louis, and I shall help you destroy Anselm Adorne and the Vatachino. After that, you may attempt anything against me that you wish.’

‘Now you interest me,’ Nicholas said. ‘But still I feel I should like to know what support the King has in mind beyond the plans of Duke René and my army.’

‘Must we spell it out? You will receive in the measure in which you give. Withdraw from the Tyrol. Duke Sigismond will break any promises that don’t suit him. Hamper the Burgundian schemes for Lorraine, whatever you promised Duke René. Instruct your splendid emissary in Cologne to leave. He will do it. He has found a beautiful gräfin whom he is hoping to tempt to his bed. Reconsider your loans to Duke Charles. Your managers in Venice and Bruges will make no demur – Master Gregorio is in the first delirium of wedded bliss, and my grandson Diniz has contrived to become a father at last, although unfortunately not of a son. Are you enjoying my bulletin upon your neglected affairs?’

‘So far as it goes. You don’t mention Scotland.’

‘I thought you were frightened of Scotland,’ the vicomte said. ‘But of course, if you thought of returning, His Sacred Majesty would be
greatly moved to feel that you went as his servant, since Anselm Adorne is undoubtedly returning as the envoy of Burgundy. You know he is sheltering the Scottish King’s exiled sister in Bruges?’

‘Still?’ Nicholas said.

‘She is awaiting the birth of a second child. Her plans must also depend on the outcome of the struggle in England. Her husband meantime serves with the Duke. It would really not be suitable, Nicholas, for you to serve the Duke of Burgundy also,’ said the fat man. ‘There is so much against it, and so many benefits to be had from joining France. For example, when Fleury is French, not Burgundian, the vicomte could be restored and given to you. The present holder is senile, they say?’

‘I am tempted,’ said Nicholas. ‘But you said, didn’t you, that whatever I promised, they would never let me leave here without some security?’

The vicomte paused. He said, ‘It would require, of course, to be considerable, but not beyond your means. Ships, or gold perhaps. A bond for your good faith.’

‘Or the child,’ Nicholas said. ‘I shall do as you suggested, and send for the child. It would be cheaper.’

There was a silence. For a space, he could not tell how far he had been believed; any more than he could weigh precisely the reality behind the fat man’s mocking, unhurried offers. Then Jordan de Ribérac said, ‘How remarkable. When I offered to buy the brat from you once, I remember being given a very short answer.’

‘I think I felt vulnerable,’ Nicholas said. ‘At the time, he was my only legitimate heir, and my wife had just formed a conjunction with your son. But now that Gelis is joining me, I hope to be blessed with a whole warren of others. Enough to stock a Creation. I can afford to risk this one, if pressed.’

‘Your wife is joining you?’ The fat man’s face showed simple surprise, but one hand was a fist.

‘I have sent for her. She is unlikely to refuse,’ said Nicholas, smiling.

‘Even if the child is out of your hands?’

‘All the more reason. Is that all?’ Nicholas said. He pulled himself from his seat at the window. Three more couriers had left, but the courtyard was still busy.

The fat man didn’t stand. He said, ‘All the more reason? Because she expects you to get it back? I hear some rubbish about your pretending to meddle with necromancy. You claim to divine.’

‘That’s M. de Nostradamus,’ Nicholas said. ‘A knowledge of charming, prophecy and other abused sciences. They have a menagerie, too.
Apes and japes and marmosets tailed. You wanted to know about Angers.’

The other man stood. One forgot, because of his bulk, how nimble he was. Unprepared, Nicholas found his wrist gripped and his fingers splayed in the fat man’s painful grasp. Then his hand was thrown away. ‘Afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of the future,’ Jordan de Ribérac said. ‘Afraid the churchmen will burn you, as they probably will, if it suits them. My advice would be to attempt the real world without talismans. But you are probably inadequate to it. What have we settled? Nothing. How typical.’

Nicholas walked to the door. ‘We have settled, I hope, the question of whether or not I deal with messengers. Tell the King that if he places a proposition before me himself, I shall give him an answer myself. Good day, my grandfather.’

The broad face contemplated his with contempt. Then the fat man rapped on the door and, when it opened, walked off without looking back.

Next day, an escort of the King’s Archers came to conduct Nicholas de Fleury, Burgundian, to the presence of His Most Christian Majesty of France.

Eleven years had passed since his other brief audience with Louis, then not yet King. The wiry frame was the same, kept so by incessant activity at work and at sport, and often at both together. But the skin on either side of the long nose was sallow and lined, and the bright eyes deeper under the elderly hat. He wore only the badge of St Michael, although the courtiers grouped behind him were expensively robed. The table at which the King sat was deep in papers.

The King said, ‘Ah, M. Nicol de Fleury.
Ser
Nicholas, I am told; a worthy honour from my nephew of Scotland, if not so remarkable as the barony he seems to have given M. Anselm Adorne. Are you troubled by haemorrhoids?’

‘Who is not?’ Nicholas said. He rose from the formal obeisances and obeyed the finger which pointed to a station in front of the desk. ‘You obtain your unguent from Tours, from your apothecary, monseigneur?’ There was a box on the desk.

‘To a recipe from the Professor Giammatteo Ferrari in Pavia. The uncle of Dr Tobias, your company doctor. Dr Tobias has left you, I am told. Your Bank is dissolving?’ said the King. After the first glance, he had returned to his papers. He signed two, and handed them over his shoulder; one of his officers took them and left.

‘The reverse, monseigneur,’ Nicholas said. ‘It is too healthy to
require medication. We can barely store the pledges which are offered us daily. We even have to refuse those we once dealt with most often.’

‘Ah,’ said the King. His hand did not falter, but as he completed his name, he laid down his pen and looked up. ‘M. de Ribérac told you my wishes. I hope he conveyed them correctly.’

‘As I understand them,’ Nicholas said, ‘they range, monseigneur, from the provision of privy information to the open transfer of my army and services from Burgundy to yourself. Including my financial services.’

‘That is what I told the vicomte to say,’ said the King. ‘There is, of course, scope for many permutations between. But the greatest honours are reserved for the man who makes the boldest move. The Constable of France and the Receiver-General of Normandy spring to mind.’

‘And monseigneur’s financial adviser from Scotland,’ Nicholas said. ‘That is the position, I must confess, that I would covet most. In fact, the only position.’

The King smiled. Even his eyes smiled. ‘Come. Land, wealth, a vicomté, compared with the cares of a kingdom’s income and outlays? Leave M. de Ribérac to his burdens.’

‘Monseigneur, of course. But in that case – it pains me – I cannot serve you.’

Behind the King, a man suddenly bent over and whispered. The King made an irritable gesture while pinching his lips. His eyes still rested on Nicholas. He said, ‘I am aware, of course, that there is bad blood between you and the vicomte. Do you really consider that you can replace him, or do you seek rather to shame and embarrass him? Is that what you ask?’

‘You ask me for information about Burgundy and Brittany and Lorraine. You ask me to cease making loans to Duke Charles, and to withdraw my army from his service. You ask me to counteract Burgundian influence in the Tyrol, and hinder Duke Charles from final possession of Guelders. You ask me to work for you in Scotland against the Burgundian influence of the Baron Anselm Adorne.’

‘Leave me,’ Louis said. He spoke not to him, but to the men around him who stirred and left the room quietly, in order. They had not looked surprised.

The door closed. Louis said, ‘Do I understand that you would do all of this, in return for the degredation of M. Jordan de Ribérac?’

‘No, monseigneur,’ Nicholas said. ‘You understand that I shall perform half of what you ask. I shall not withdraw my army, because in the present truce there is no need of that army. I shall not overtly transfer to your service because I could not supply you with information
if I did. I shall not refuse loans to Duke Charles of Burgundy, but I shall delay what loans I promise, and I shall reduce them. The rest I shall do, fully and unconditionally as you suggest, at a rate of payment that takes account of the fact that no public honours can be bestowed. And I shall not do it at all without an undertaking that Jordan de Ribérac will meet the fate of Jacques de Coeur, when I choose to supply proof of his errors.’

‘Is he cheating me?’ said the King.

Nicholas smiled. He said, ‘Let us say that he is the last person monseigneur should have sent to persuade me to join you. If I joined you openly, I should be dead.’

‘So,’ said Louis. He rose and strolled to the bed. His knees, above the knotted calves, were bent slightly inwards. He turned. ‘So you think you are worth more to me than he is?’

‘I think,’ Nicholas said, ‘that monseigneur needs us both today. But tomorrow, when you have enjoyed the fruits of all I can bring you, you may find that M. de Ribérac is not the only numerate man in your kingdom.’

The King was silent. Then he said, ‘M. de Ribérac’s advice was to make no agreement that would not involve a considerable forfeit if broken. He suggested I demand from you a lodgement of gold.’

‘Or my son?’ Nicholas said.

‘We have small use for what may be simply replaced by an active man attentive to his marriage. No. But suppose,’ Louis said, ‘suppose that our discussion had gone otherwise. Suppose that we demanded you openly serve us, and refused to let you depart without such a bond?’

Nicholas pursed his lips. ‘Monseigneur, the situation could never arise. As I explained, to join you openly would destroy half my worth. The world must think I have refused what you are offering. That is why my other servants have gone straight to Hesdin, to inform Duke Charles of their anxieties over my whereabouts. Of course, as soon as I appear, the truce talks will continue without impediment.’

There was a long silence. At last: ‘But how charming,’ said the King. ‘You expect a pension; you promise to serve me. But what guarantee do I have that you will do anything for me at all?’

‘As much as you have,’ Nicholas said, ‘from any other of your myriad pensioners. With this difference, perhaps. You will see results very soon. I am going to Scotland. I shall do all in my power to see that Scotland sends you all that you dream of. An army, led by her King.’

‘You will?’ said the King slowly. He came close, until he stood face
to face, looking up. He said, ‘Yes, my friend. My ambitious, clever young friend. You do that, and France will be generous. Do that, and indeed, you will receive what you ask.’

Freed, Nicholas rode out next day with his servants. A mile from the castle, he was halted by a small group of horsemen. Among them, vast in the saddle, was Jordan de Ribérac. ‘A word,’ he said.

The forces were evenly divided. They made no attempt to attack or to mix, but waited facing each other while Nicholas and the vicomte moved apart. De Ribérac halted and spoke. ‘You are a fortunate youth. I hear you refused the King, and yet he released you.’

Nicholas smiled. ‘Did he tell you why? I had sent ahead to warn Burgundy.’

The fat man gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘You had no intention, when you came, of joining France. Or of sending your son. You can rout the Vatachino, you think, on your own.’

‘I should have been a fool to join France,’ Nicholas said. ‘Considering what was happening in the courtyard as you and I spoke. I never saw a more depressed set of couriers. Are all the members of the royal House of Lancaster dead, or merely in fetters?’

‘Was it so obvious?’ de Ribérac said. ‘I suppose, to a second-class sort of diviner, it was. Yes, the news had just come from England. Edward of York has regained the throne. Henry of Lancaster is dead; his queen Margaret of Anjou in prison.’

‘And the boy?’ Nicholas said.

‘Edward of Wales died on the battlefield. A fierce, silly child, mad for war.’

‘The news will have reached Angers,’ remarked Nicholas. ‘They will probably cancel St Vincent.’

‘You are going to the Duke of Burgundy now, at Hesdin?’ the fat man asked.

Nicholas looked surprised. ‘Who in his senses would miss such an occasion? Fireworks, bonfires, rejoicing: York on the throne, and his ducal good-brother en fête? It’ll be like Negroponte. Of course I am going to the Duke. I have my wife Gelis to meet.’