The Accursed Kings Series Books 1-3: The Iron King, The Strangled Queen, The Poisoned Crown. Maurice Druon

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      ‘Christ!’ he cried. ‘On heat and to good purpose! Fine ornaments, young gentlemen, fine ornaments!’

      He tried the weight of Gautier’s purse.

      ‘Gold thread, and fine work. Italian or English maybe. Equerries’ salaries don’t run to this sort of splendour. The cut-throats would have had a good haul.’

      He grew excited, gesticulated, banged the young men about with friendly blows of his fist, enormous, noisy, red-headed and obscene in the half-light. He was beginning to get seriously on the brothers’ nerves. But how do you tell a man who has just saved your life to mind his own business?

      ‘Love obviously pays, my fine young sirs,’ he said walking beside them. ‘Your mistresses must be very great ladies and very generous ones. Good God, you young Aunays, who would have thought it, eh!’

      ‘Monseigneur is in error,’ said Gautier rather coldly. ‘These purses came to us through the family.’

      ‘Of course they do, I knew it,’ said Artois, ‘from a family you’ve visited at midnight under the walls of the Tower of Nesle! Quite, quite, I shan’t say anything, honour comes first. I approve of you, young sirs. One must respect the reputation of the women one sleeps with! All right. Good-bye. And don’t venture out at night wearing all your jewellery again.’

      He went off into another great gale of laughter. With a huge gesture of embracing them, he banged the two brothers one against the other, and then went off, leaving them there, anxious and disquieted, without even giving them time to repeat their thanks.

      They were at the Porte de Bucy and went on their way to the right, while Artois went off through the fields in the direction of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

      ‘I hope to God he doesn’t go telling all the Court where he found us,’ said Gautier. ‘Do you think he’s capable of keeping his great mouth shut?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Philippe. ‘He’s not a bad sort of chap. And the proof is that without his great mouth, as you call it, and his great arms for that matter, we shouldn’t be here now. Don’t let’s be ungrateful, not yet anyway.’

      ‘That’s true. Besides, we might have asked him what the hell he was doing there anyway.’

      ‘I’d swear he was looking for a whore! And now he’s gone off to a brothel,’ said Philippe.

      He was wrong. Robert of Artois had not gone off to a brothel. He had made a detour through the Pré-aux-Clercs and, returning to the river bank, had come back to the neighbourhood of the Tower of Nesle.

      The moon was obscured once more. He whistled with the same low whistle that had preceded the fight.

      The same six shadowy figures detached themselves from the wall, and a seventh stood up in a boat. The shadowy figures stood in respectful attitudes.

      ‘Good, you’ve done your work well,’ said Artois. ‘Everything went off as I wished. Here, Carl-Hans!’ he called to the chief blackguard, ‘share this between you.’

      He threw him a purse.

      ‘You gave me a terrible blow on the shoulder, Monseigneur,’ said one of the cut-throats.

      ‘Bah! That’s all in the day’s work,’ Artois answered laughing. ‘Now, get off with you. If I should need you again, I’ll let you know.’

      Then he got into the boat. It sank low in the water under his weight. The man who took the oars was the same ferryman who had brought the Aunays over.

      ‘So Monseigneur is satisfied with the night’s work?’ he asked.

      He had lost his whining tone, seemed to have become younger by ten years, and gave way with a will.

      ‘Splendid, my dear Lormet! You played your little trick on them wonderfully well,’ said the giant. ‘Now I know what I wanted to know.’

      He leant back in the stern of the boat, stretched out his monumental legs, and let his huge hand trail in the dark water.

       PART TWO

       THE ADULTEROUS PRINCESSES

       1

       The Tolomei Bank

      MESSER SPINELLO TOLOMEI’S expression took on a reflective seriousness, then, lowering his voice as if he feared someone might be listening at the door, he said, ‘Two thousand pounds in advance? Would that suit you, Monseigneur?’

      His left eye was closed; his right eye shone with calm innocence.

      Though he had lived in France for many years, he had never been able to get rid of his Italian accent. He was fat and dark and had a double chin. His greying hair, carefully cut, fell upon the collar of his robe which was of fine cloth and edged with fur. At the belt the robe was stretched taut over his pot-belly. When he spoke, he raised fat, pointed hands and rubbed them together. His enemies asserted that his open eye was the lying one and that he kept the truthful one shut.

      He was one of the most powerful bankers in Paris and had the manners of a bishop. At all events he assumed them on this occasion because he was speaking to a prelate.

      The prelate was Jean de Marigny, a slender, elegant, almost graceful young man who, the day before, at the episcopal tribunal in front of Notre-Dame, had been remarked for his languid air until the moment came when he lost his temper with the Grand Master. He was the brother of Enguerrand de Marigny and had been appointed to the archbishopric of Sens, from which depended the diocese of Paris, in order to bring the proceedings against the Templars to a happy conclusion. He was therefore in the closest touch with the great affairs of state.

      ‘Two thousand pounds?’ he said.

      He seemed a little on edge and turned his head away to hide his gratified surprise at the banker’s figure. He had not expected so much.

      ‘Yes, certainly, that figure will suit me pretty well,’ he said with an assumed air of detachment. ‘I’d like to settle the business as quickly as possible.’

      The banker watched him as a cat watches a fat bird.

      ‘We can deal with the matter at once,’ he replied.

      ‘Excellent,’ said the young Archbishop. ‘And when shall I send you the …’

      He interrupted himself, thinking he heard a noise beyond the door. But no, all was quiet. There was nothing to be heard but the СКАЧАТЬ