The Lady and the Unicorn. Tracy Chevalier

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СКАЧАТЬ have a cunning idea, Madame.’ The lady-in-waiting who spoke was the plainest but had lively eyes that moved back and forth as she thought. ‘In fact, it’s a punning idea. You know how Monseigneur likes puns.’

      ‘So he does,’ Geneviève de Nanterre agreed.

      ‘Visté means speed. The unicorn is visté, n’est-ce pas? No animal runs faster. So when we see a unicorn we think of Viste.’

      ‘Béatrice, you’re so clever – if your idea works with my husband you may marry this Nicolas des Innocents. I will give you my blessing.’

      I jerked my head. Béatrice laughed, and all the women joined her. I smiled politely. I had no idea if Geneviève de Nanterre was joking.

      Still laughing, Geneviève de Nanterre led her ladies out, leaving me alone.

      I stood still in the quiet room. I should find a long pole and go back to the Grande Salle to begin measuring again. But it was a pleasure to stay here, with no ladies smirking at me. I could think in this room.

      I looked around. There were two tapestries hanging on the walls, with the Annunciation I had painted for the room next to them. I studied the tapestries. These were of grape harvesters, men cutting the vines while women stamped on the grapes, skirts tucked high to reveal their spattered calves. They were much bigger than the painting, and with less depth. The weave made them look rough, and less fleshy and immediate than the Virgin in my painting. But they kept the room warm, and filled more of it with their vivid reds and blues.

      A whole room full of these – it would be like making a little world, and one full of women rather than the horses and men of a battle. I would much prefer that, no matter how hard it would be to convince Jean Le Viste.

      I glanced out of the window. Geneviève de Nanterre and Claude Le Viste were walking with their ladies towards the church, their skirts blowing about them. The sun was so bright that my eyes watered and I had to blink. When I could see again they were gone, replaced by the servant girl who carried my child. She held a basket and was plodding in the other direction.

      Why did that lady-in-waiting laugh so hard at the thought of marrying me? Though I had not yet given much thought to marrying, I’d assumed I would one day have a wife to look after me when I was old. I had a good standing in the Court, steady commissions, and now these tapestries to keep me and any wife. There was no grey in my hair, I had all but two of my teeth, and I could plough thrice a night when the need arose. It was true that I was an artist and not a squire or rich merchant. But I wasn’t a blacksmith or cobbler or farmer. My hands were clean, my nails trim. Why should she laugh so?

      I decided first to finish measuring the room, whatever I was to design for its walls. I needed a pole, and found the steward in the storerooms, counting out candles. He was as sour with me as before, but directed me to the stables. ‘You watch out with that pole,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t go doing any damage with it.’

      I smirked. ‘I didn’t take you for a bawd,’ I said.

      The steward frowned. ‘That’s not what I meant. But I’m not surprised that’s how you took it, you who can’t control your own rod.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You know what I mean. What you done to Marie-Céleste.’

      Marie-Céleste – the name meant nothing.

      When the steward saw my blank look he snarled, ‘The maid you got with child, pisspot.’

      ‘Ah, her. She should have been more careful.’

      ‘So should you. She’s a good girl – she deserves better than you.’

      ‘It’s a pity about Marie-Céleste, but I’ve given her money and she’ll be all right. Now, I must get that pole.’

      The steward grunted. As I turned to go, he muttered, ‘You watch your back, pisspot.’

      I found a pole in the stables and was carrying it across the courtyard when Jean Le Viste himself came striding out of the house. He swept by without even looking at me – he must have thought I was just another servant – and I called out, ‘Monseigneur! A moment, please!’ If I didn’t say something now I might never get another chance alone with him.

      Jean Le Viste turned to see who was calling, then grunted and kept walking. I ran to catch up with him. ‘Please, Monseigneur, I would like to discuss the tapestries further.’

      ‘You should talk to Léon, not me.’

      ‘Yes, Monseigneur, but I felt that for something as important as these tapestries you should be consulted directly.’ As I hurried after him, the end of the pole dipped and caught on a stone, tumbling from my hands and clattering to the ground. The whole courtyard rang with the sound. Jean Le Viste stopped and glared at me.

      ‘I am concerned, Monseigneur,’ I said hastily. ‘Concerned that you should have hung on your walls what others would expect from such a prominent member of Court. From a President of the Cour des Aides, no less.’ I was making up words as I went along.

      ‘What’s your point? I am busy here.’

      ‘I have seen designs for a number of tapestries this past year commissioned by noble families from my fellow artists. All of these tapestries have one thing in common – a millefleur background.’ This much was true – backgrounds of a dense pattern of flowers were popular now, particularly as weavers in the north perfected the technique.

      ‘Flowers?’ Jean Le Viste repeated, looking down at his feet as if he had just trampled upon some.

      ‘Yes, Monseigneur.’

      ‘There are no flowers in battles.’

      ‘No, Monseigneur. They have not been weaving battles. Several of my colleagues have designed scenes with – with unicorns in them, Monseigneur.’

      ‘Unicorns?’

      ‘Yes, Monseigneur.’

      Jean Le Viste looked so sceptical that I quickly added another lie that I could only hope he wouldn’t discover. ‘Several noble families are having them made – Jean d’Alençon, Charles de St Émilion, Philippe de Chartres.’ I tried to name families Jean Le Viste was unlikely to visit – they either lived too far away, or were too noble for the Le Vistes, or not noble enough.

      ‘They are not having battles made,’ Jean Le Viste repeated.

      ‘No, Monseigneur.’

      ‘Unicorns.’

      ‘Yes, Monseigneur. They are à la mode now. And it did occur to me that a unicorn might be appropriate for your family.’ I described Béatrice’s pun.

      Jean Le Viste didn’t change expression, but he nodded, and that was enough. ‘Do you know what to have this unicorn do?’

      ‘Yes, Monseigneur, I do.’

      ‘All right, then. Tell Léon. And bring me the drawings before Easter.’ Jean Le Viste turned to cross the courtyard. I bowed to his back.

      It СКАЧАТЬ