Read Online Niccolo Rising by Dorothy Dunnett - Free Book Online Page A

knew that. He was sure, then, of receiving her father’s blessing if he sought it (or perhaps he had it already?). And he had elected instead to impress her. She spent some time not being impressed. But he was remarkably easy in manner. He made her father’s chaplain smile, and bandied anecdotes with his secretary and drew out both her father and herself on the subject of the court at Veere, where Simon’s own sister Lucia had once served the Scots princess. Her father asked after this sister, who had married a Portuguese in the Duchess’s train and was now at home in the warmth of south Portugal. They had a son, it appeared, and Lucia was more than contented.
    “Content to be so far from home? Are you sure of that?” Katelina spoke from mischief, but Simon answered her with composure.
    “You missed home during your three years in Scotland. But marriage is a commitment. The six sisters of my king were flung all over Europe. You know that the princess at Veere is still happy. So are the others, all except two who were sent home to Scotland. Ask them if they enjoy being back in Scotland or not.”
    “Are they still alive?” said Katelina.
    “Come Katelina,” said her father. “That is hardly courteous. Theseladies cleave to their lords, as they should, and willingly follow the mode of life which duty lays on them. Whether it is warm or cold, or hilly or flat does not signify.”
    “Or whether their husbands are warm or cold, or hilly or flat?” said Katelina. “It must signify, or the convents would all be empty.”
    The chaplain pursed his lips, looking at no one. Her father said, “Demoiselle, you have not learned delicacy, it would seem, in your travels abroad. This is not talk for the board. My lord Simon will excuse you.”
    She rose slowly. So did my lord Simon, and took her knuckled hand to lead her out from her chair. He said, “If, monseigneur, you would excuse your guest Simon also. There is a fine sunset in the garden which would cool us both, if one of your servants would attend us.”
    There was a pause, then her father nodded, and signalled with his eyes to one of the younger serving-men, whose eyes were glistening with interest above the badge on his pourpoint. She thought of refusing to go, for she was in a rebellious mood. She had been a long time away from paternal authority, and her last suitor was still overclear in her mind. She walked out of the room and across the tiled passages still in two minds, and annoyed because he still held her hand, and because a pleasant scent of some sort came from his clothes, and his hair was a shade she had once prayed to the Virgin Mary to bestow upon her.
    When the servant opened the door to the garden she moved her trapped hand half out of his, and was alarmed to find it detained. But he kept it only long enough to raise it to his lips, and then gave it back to her keeping again, and followed her docilely into the garden. The servant dropped out of sight but not, she supposed, beyond hearing. She said, “Why are you in Flanders?”
    He had stopped walking. Back at the house, the shutters were rimmed with yellow lamplight except for the open, aromatic window of the kitchen, where a cat sat on the sill. In front of her the little trees, moving, masked the lamps in other houses being lit, one after the other as the evening light waned. The sky was full of pale marzipan colours, and so was the water in the fountain basin, and the glimmer that came from the well. Something pricked her through the gathered voile over her collarbones, and again at her temple. She said, “Gnats. We shall have to go back indoors.”
    The bench was beside them. He said, “I was going to answer your question. Am I not worth a gnat?”
    “No,” she said. “Tell me another time. Or drive them away. There are some leaves. Smoke would do it. Ederic?”
    By God, not out of earshot. Her father’s servant appeared. “Fetch a brand from the kitchen,” said Katelina. “And throw it