The Unicorn Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page A

grandfather’s face. His grandfather said, ‘I am not sure what you mean.’
    ‘I mean I got Gelis van Borselen under me,’ his father said. ‘Here, this summer. She made a little visit to Scotland six weeks before vander Poele married her. Now he’s wedded my leavings. How’s that?’ He went on tying his points to his shirt. After a while, he looked up.
    ‘Your late wife’s sister,’ said Grandfather Jordan reflectively. ‘You seduced your sister by marriage, Gelis van Borselen of Veere, related to the rulers of Scotland and Burgundy? You raped her in advance of her wedding, because Nicholas vander Poele was her affianced husband?’
    ‘Raped her!’ his father said in mild protest. ‘When did I ever need to do that? The girl was born with an itch, like her sister.’
    The old man made a sound with his teeth, then resumed. ‘In spite of which, she went back to Bruges. She did marry?’
    ‘Of course she did!’ his father said. ‘He’s settled half his fortune on her – half the gold he brought back from Africa. She’ll be therichest woman in Flanders, and safe. He’d never know on the night. A well-trodden path, as they say, shows no prints.’
    He smiled at the thought, and the smile broadened into a yawn. ‘I’ve no complaints, and she won’t soon forget it. She wanted to find out what her sister enjoyed, and she did.’ He stopped smiling and flung up an arm. ‘Damn you!’ he exclaimed.
    It was so quick, the movement of his grandfather’s wrist, the pomander striking its target, the crash as the pierced silver ball fell to the floor, that Henry had no time to move. He heard his father cry out and saw the punch-mark on his brow where the skin began to turn bluish-red. Then his father roared, ‘Damn you!’ again.
    It was why Henry was there, to protect him. He had his fists; he could kick. He jumped to his feet but failed to dash through the door, being arrested by the clutch of four arms, and silenced by a hardened hand over his mouth. The men had come from behind, and wore the livery, he saw, of his aunt.
    They took him away. He struggled as much as he could but they lifted him up from the step and swept him down the stairs of the turnpike, while his father’s sister Lucia – the spy! the traitor! – actually knelt at the door in his place.
    Unwitnessed by Henry de St Pol, the vicomte de Ribérac remained seated inside the chamber and watched his cursing son clutch his bruised head.
    ‘I should have done it before,’ said his lordship. ‘Your choice of language would disgrace a pig-gutter. The topic is distasteful enough as it is. Let us finish. You and the girl served each other. She married. Now the wedding is over, will it amuse her to tell vander Poele what has happened?’
    ‘Christ!’ said Simon de St Pol. ‘How do I know? I hope not. I want to tell him myself. I’d like him to know whose lap she came to him from. I’d planned to tell him in Bruges, once they’d married, and we’d got our concessions.’
    ‘But you didn’t?’ said the vicomte de Ribérac.
    ‘No. Well, there was the threat of plague in the town. You didn’t stay for the Burgundy wedding. After it, the Duke rode off to Holland, and his Duchess left on her tour. There was no one left.’
    ‘Not even vander Poele?’ Jordan de Ribérac said. ‘He didn’t go with his bride?’
    ‘He could hardly go with the Duchess,’ said Simon. ‘He may have finished up in the suite of the Duke, but I couldn’t reach him. I left. But don’t worry, I’ll tell him. I’ll pick a moment he’ll never forget.’
    ‘You think so,’ said his father. He got to his feet, drawing hissword. Crossing the floor, he lowered the tip and threaded the fallen pomander on the point of the steel, so that it hung on the blade like an apple. He lifted the weapon, viewing it from end to end. Then he raised his eyes to his son.
    ‘How wrong you are. You will now listen to me. You will not boast to vander Poele that you have ravished