"Really. How interesting. Are you staying here in Brugge? At the
Marinershuis?"
Ah. Silas again. So, she had interests there, did she?
"Yes, I am Master Mariner's guest. He brought me over on his ship from
York to see something of Brugge. It's a beautiful town. I long to see
more of it."
"So how long do you intend to stay?"
The question was blunt and to the point, and Isolde was relieved to be
joined at that moment by Silas, who placed a tiny skinny monkey to sit
on her armful of gown. It wore a collar studded with diamonds.
"There," he said.
"Seen one of those before?"
Isolde saw that any reply would have gone unnoticed during the meeting
of Silas with Ann-Marie Matteus, for the woman's attitude changed from
hostile to winsome at the bat of an eyelid. He bowed formally but,
rather than take her hand to kiss, kept his fingers on the jewelled
pommel of his dagger.
"Damoiselle," he said.
"Silas," Ann-Marie simpered.
"You came as soon as you returned. I'm so glad to see you again."
"I came here to accompany Master Caxton at the presentation of his book
to the Duchess, damoiselle, that's all. You and Mistress Isolde have
met, I see."
"Yes. She tells me she's staying with you. Is that so?"
"You are asking me to verify what Mistress Isolde has told you?"
"Ah ... no, of course not." Ann-Marie's face struggled into a brittle
smile.
"But is it wise, Silas? You know how people talk. I shall be pestered
by people asking me what's going on. What am I going to tell them?"
Intuitively, Isolde understood both the gist of the woman's
insinuations and Silas's predicament, and, though she had no sympathy
to waste on either of them, she did not intend to stand as
pig-in-the-middle while they batted denials over her head. Even to a
blind man it was obvious that the woman was doing her best to inform
her of some previous relationship and that her choice of this public
place was sure to cause the most immediate damage. But, whether it was
true or not, the woman was not going to score at her expense, in public
or in private.
"Tell them whatever you wish, damoiselle," Isolde said in her sweetest
tone, before Silas could draw breath, 'but the truth saves a lot of
effort in the long run. Tell them, whoever they are, to mind their
own. oh, no! " She peeped up at Silas.
"Tell them that we have an understanding. Nothing official, yet, but
our fathers have been friends for years, and..." she made it sound
like a search for the exact wording 'and. -. er, oh, yes, he's allowed
to make gifts to me.
This is his latest. " She took hold of the pearl pendant and held it
forward.
"Isn't it a beauty? Oh, and thisT She held out the bewildered
monkey.
Ann-Marie Matteus snatched the creature from Isolde's hand and held it
tightly against her.
"Is mine!" she said, all smiles now gone.
"Ah, he gave you that, did he? And do you and Master Silas have a
similar understanding? He's a very understanding man, is he not?"
The woman knew when she had met her match. Looking at neither of them,
she stooped to pick up her flowing veil and train in one practised
sweep, and left them.
In some concern, Silas took Isolde's arm.
"Do you want to go home?" he said.
Refusing to meet his eyes, Isolde copied the same graceful gathering of
her gown.
"Home? No, indeed. I'm just beginning to enjoy myself, I thank you."
She bent to caress the silky white ears of the little gazehound that
had come to lean against her legs.
"Why, little thing," she whispered, 'you are trembling more than I am.
"
That was the extent of Isolde's compliance. The young court louts who,
according to Silas, would come buzzing, were allowed to swarm like bees
around a new queen, after which the Duchess, her duties discharged,
took Isolde to her green-cushioned dais, an honour which Isolde could
have boasted of for the rest of her life, if she had chosen to.
The whole experience, though exciting, was akin to skating upon thin
ice, and the mental agility required to avoid mention of the actual
circumstances of her presence in Brugge did even more to boost Isolde's
confidence than the earlier acrimonious interview.
Afterwards, she could not explain why the thought of a woman being
close to Silas, any woman, should bring such a rush of ill feeling to
her breast, but she would not ask him for details. No, she'd not give
him so much satisfaction.
"So, should I have congratulated the lady, then?" Her sideways assault
was easily hidden in the babble of voices as they prepared to mount in
the courtyard of the Princenhof.
Silas had been particularly subdued, in the manner of one who expects
an inevitable volley of questions at any moment, and now, when the
first salvo appeared, his defence was over-prepared.
"Who?" he said, leading her towards the mare.
"The one with the diamond-studded monkey." His mouth twitched.
"No, there's nothing I know of there that deserves congratulations
except for being a troublemaker. You could congratulate her for having
a father who's a diamond merchant, but that's about all I can think
of."
"But you gave her the monkey, I take it?"
"No, I didn't. I sold it to her father. Anything else?"
He lifted her into the saddle, setting her sideways and arranging her
skirts. When she made no immediate response to his invitation, he
gathered the reins and held them out of reach on the mare's neck. His
chin was on a level with her elbow.
"Well?" he said.
It was her place to start the attack, so what right did he have to
issue a challenge? Anyway, there was something else, but with Master
Caxton and his young assistant looking on he knew full well that this
was no time for her to develop the theme.
"Are you going to give me the reins, or shall I be led?" she
muttered.
He was laughing, she was sure, as he handed them over, but she refused
to look and, for some considerable time, had to acknowledge her own
bull-headed approach to be the prime cause of her aggravated
irritation.
It was Saturday, and their detour through the thronging streets soon
took them into the Market Square, dominated by the massive tower of the
belfry which she had seen in the distance the day before. The Cloth
Hall, where good Flemish cloth was prepared for export, was pointed out
to her, its facade littered with cut work picots, and snippets of stone
lace. On this busy market day, calls and greetings came at them from
all sides, waves of feathered hats and whistles of admiration which,
Silas told her, were certainly not for him.
Nevertheless, they were obliged to stop more than once as they threaded
a path through the stalls, giving Isolde and Cecily a chance to see the
sugar loaves and spices, the cross-legged tailors, the barber's stall
cheek- by-jowl with flagons of good sweet hippocra
s and the merry
customers who reeled from one to the other. In many ways it reminded
her of York, except that this was more compact and therefore appeared
larger, but her eye was caught by similar sights: billowing sails of
cloth hanging from lines, mirrors, leather shoes, belts and girdles,
purses, carved boxes, combs and skeins of coloured wools.
Isolde winked at Cecily and together they sidled away from where the
three men were being accosted yet again by acquaintances. Lengths of
velvet and veiling, fine wool lens and linens lapped like brilliant
coloured waves and, hypnotised by the sight, they moved nearer, eager
to feel, compare and choose.
"I'll hold the mare," Cecily mouthed to Isolde over the din.
"Go on, slide down ... oh!" Her warning was unheard.
Isolde shuffled herself forward from her sideways seat but was
restrained by a firm arm from behind, holding her back.
"What...?" She turned, angrily.
"No, mistress," Silas said, leaning towards her from his greater
height.
"It's a long way down, and you could injure yourself. And I have far
more interesting fabrics to show you, if you can wait."
Frustrated yet again, Isolde could not believe the boast.
"What, better than these, sir? Look at the colours. I need..." She
pointed.
"Yes, I know you do. I intend to put the matter right, I assure
you."
He took hold of the mare's bridle and turned her through the crowds to
Bridlestreet, which linked the Market Square with the equally
impressive Burg. Alone, they could have kept up a hostile silence,
Isolde sulking, Silas uncompromising, but with Master Caxton and Jan
Van Wynkyn still bubbling after their appointment at the Princenhof and
their expectation of a midday meal at the Marinershuis, she had little
choice but to resume her pseudo-sociability.
More than willing to act as tour guide, young Jan pointed out the most
interesting landmarks as they approached Silas's house from another
direction, and, angry or not, Isolde was moved by the secluded nests of
buildings and courtyards, bridges and glimpses of water opposite the
Church of Our Lady. The sun sparkled beneath the smooth curve of St.
Boniface's Bridge, and reflections shone across the water in busy green
and brown willow-patterns, making Isolde squeeze her eyelids as they
turned to enter their own courtyard.
"You did not enjoy?" Meester Jan held up his arms to lift her down
from the saddle.
But before she could respond Silas's arms enclosed her waist from
behind and tipped her, slowly and gently, into them.
"Put your arms around my neck," he whispered, 'or I'll give you to that
wordy printer's assistant. Shall I? " he threatened.
"No." She obeyed, wishing with all her heart that he would kiss her
again here, before them all. But he did not. Instead, he carried her
into the cool house, where all was dim after the bright daylight, and
placed her upright to continue the acting-out of good relations.
The effort was almost too much for her, and by midafternoon , when the
guests had departed, Isolde had reached the end of her tether.
Almost before the sound of the hooves had died she paced back into the
house across the black and white tiles, where she rounded on Silas like
a whirlwind, her voice almost screeching with pent-up provocation.
"You knew, didn't you? You knew that woman would be there. You knew
they'd all be wearing steeples on their heads, not as you said at
all.
You wanted to--' "That's enough, Isolde."
"To humiliate--' " I said that's enoughV He closed the door and stood
with his back to it, as he had done before, creating a barrier not to
be broached. His voice, cutting but hardly raised, demanded her
instant obedience.
"Sit down, maid, if you please."
Defiantly, she stared back, eye to eye, until a quick glint of anger
gave her all the warning she needed. She sat.
"Now," he said, swinging a stool beneath him, 'you will tell me in a
civilised manner, not like some screaming fishwife. Your range is most
impressive, but I prefer to hear the lady you showed me this morning.
She was truly astonishing," he said in wonderment.
Chastened, Isolde was inclined to fume in silence, but that time had
passed.
"Why?" she croaked.
"Why didn't you give me some warning? You obviously knew there'd be
questions, but you didn't say I'd have to explain to a woman who
clearly has some claim on you. That was the most humiliating charade
I've ever had to play; every bit of it a complete and utter lie. How
could you?"
"I'll tell you, if you'll listen."
"No more lies. Try the truth."
The cutting tone was resumed. I have every intention of trying the
truth, so you try putting your preconceptions aside and believing what
I tell you, for a change. First, the woman has no claim on me, nor has
she ever had. Her father, Paulus Matteus, and I have done business
together for years, and he once suggested an alliance between myself
and his daughter, which he foolishly mentioned to her before he
discovered my inclinations. She apparently approved, but I didn't, and
she's obviously having some trouble coping with the hurt of
rejection.
Her father was at fault; he should never have mentioned it to her.
That's all there is to it. The possibility that she might have been
there this morning didn't enter my head. Yes, I knew she was one of
the Duchess's ladies; unusual for a merchant's daughter, but a diamond
merchant has. well. an advantage over a mere mercer. But it was
William who invited us there, not me, Isolde. It was pure coincidence,
and you handled it--' the smile emerged '--with your usual courage. I
was most impressed, and I have to thank you for saying to her what I
could not have said. Not then, anyway. "
"Why not? Because of her feelings? You didn't mind mine."
"You had the advantage, Isolde. I'd not intentionally hurt the lass
more than she is already."
"But she's keeping the possibility alive in her own mind, and that
casts this so-called understanding of ours into some doubt, doesn't
it?"
"Of course not. Everyone knows what the situation is by now. You were
the only one there this morning who didn't and that's why she was
trying it on. For mischief. She knew I'd not bother telling you of
something that didn't happen."
"Wishful thinking. Doesn't it embarrass you?"
"No. She can wish all she likes. I don't even think about it, and I
want you to do the same. Forget it."
"I can forget it. I care not who you have an alliance with, but I do
resent having to justify my presence here with a pack of lies."
"It's not a pack of lies, Isolde, it's as I told you. You are mine,
like it or not."
"As far as the whole truth is concerned, sir--' " And what was the
problem with the head-dress? From what I heard, there was nothing but
admiration for the way you looked. "
"Another lie. You told me, if you reme
mber, that this was what they
were wearing--' she pointed to her head '--and then I find--' " Not
lies! I told you, if you remember, that it was the Florentine fashion,
and so it is, and it suits you a great deal better than those
ridiculous pinnacles they're wearing. If they don't take somebody's
eye out first, they'll all be as bald as coots if they go on like that.
I'll not have you pulling your hair out, Isolde, and that's why I
forbade Mei to tell you about them. "
"So, as it was, I was the odd one out."
"As it was, maid, you were the centre of attention. What more could
you have wished for? Eh?"
"And now you're going to tell me what to wear. Is that why I was not
allowed to buy myself some fabric?
Do you prefer ten-year-old half-silks to Italian brocades, too? You
saw their gowns? " She swept a scornful glance over her own, then went
to stand at the window, looking out into the side garden that had so
far escaped the gardener's attentions. The conversation had taken a
milder turn, but nothing now could compare with the relief at his
explanation of Mistress Matteus's behaviour. What he had said made
sense; she could not doubt it.
The Maiden's Abduction Page 10