The Unicorn Hunt: The Fifth Book of the House of Niccolo

by Dorothy Dunnett

  Laughter spread. The boy, freed by St Pol, stumbled to the side of the boat, where Tobie and John were already leaning to rescue him. Behind the mask, he was retching. Between them, the two men lifted him over and set him shivering on the deck of the Bank’s boat. Below the mask, he was green. Tobie took him inside. In the boat of the Knights, Katelijne Sersanders obtained leave from her uncle to see to his son, taken sick in the neighbouring vessel. Her uncle agreed, since Dr Tobias was there and M. de Fleury (she could assure him) was not.

  She crossed. Dr Tobias said, ‘Thank God you’re here. Hold the bowl. I’ve got to see what Simon is up to.’

  ‘I can tell you,’ said Kathi.

  Now they were close to the Basin; the deep-water anchorage off the Doge’s Palace and the Piazzetta. The young man Nerio, having kissed all the whores, replaced his mask and swung himself laughing back aboard his own boat from which, in a moment, the Queen of Cyprus and her mother and aunts sent across a casket of sweetmeats. Simon’s ladies fell on them. Simon ignored them. He might be deprived of his partner, but that wasn’t going to stop his glorious plan.

  He knew where the vessel was, because he had arranged for its hiring. He knew who would be in it, because three of them were in his employment as well. Having an office in Genoa, he had not found it difficult to discover where Gelis van Borselen was going to stay, or to forestall her when she wanted armed help. She would not have heard his name mentioned. That is, she might not have minded, but one could never be sure.

  He had to admit, too, that his father had helped. It was awkward, because his father and he had quite different ideas about what to do with Gelis’s son.

  He fastened his panther skin a little more securely and began, with confidence, to jump from boat to boat.

  It had come to Nicholas some time before, that Gelis was frightened. It did not mean much, in the curious place where he was. He assumed she was afraid that he would somehow perish before he had found what she wanted. When he could not concentrate any more, he said, having obtained permission to speak, ‘Do you think I could see where we are?’ They would not let him into the open, but they drew back the curtain a little so that he could see how close they were to the Basin and the end of their journey.

  The end of his journey. Ahead was the terminus, the space of water lit by the flood of torchlight from the Piazzetta where all the regatta would finally come to rest. The place was marked by a group of objects at anchor: the broad barge upon which, earlier, the stilt-walkers and acrobats had performed, and the fire-swallowers had sent their columns of flame into the air; the raft with the windlass from which rose the double rope joining palace to campanile, up which the tightrope artists had walked; the floating sea-monster which by day delighted and terrorised children from canal to canal. And within the rectangle they described, a vessel he could not yet see, from which came the summons he felt.

  He did not need the whistle any more; the desecrated whistle. He let it swing to its furthest extent from his lacerated finger, and loosed it to hurtle ahead, accurate as a date stone, through the curtain and into the water. Gelis started. The soldier behind struck his arm. Then he saw the golden figure leaping towards him, spanning the widening gap between boats. He had no doubt who it was.

  He thought at first, naturally, that Gelis had planned it. He was surprised when she gave an order to her three hirelings beside him. ‘Send that man away.’

  He said nothing. If she did not recognise Simon de St Pol, it was not for him to tell her. Then he heard her repeat sharply, ‘Stop that man from coming aboard!’ and realised that she knew who it was. And, further, that the men also knew who it was, and were not going to do as she said.

  Nicholas said, ‘They are Simon’s, not yours,’ and watched, almost with pity, as understanding came to her face.

  The boat slowed. The cluster of moored vessels ahead was very close. His own boat, just in front, would be among the first to drop anchor. Oddly, above the strange, dispersed clamour all about him, the music, the laughter, the subdued roar that rose like a thundercloud from the land, there came from ahead the sound of a jew’s trump, playing a tune. A nursery tune: the notes he had built for a mechanical bird, once, to sing.

  He looked at Gelis, and saw that she had unmasked. Her face in the dim light was white. He lifted his hands and, since no one objected, bared his face as well to the air. His hand throbbed. The trump, like a bee in his thoughts, had strayed into a different jingle. Simon arrived: in fur, and cloth of gold, and the glorious conviction of triumph. He threw his mask on the floor, walking to Gelis. ‘Well, my dear. You have brought him to look at our son?’ And bending, kissed her.

  In front of Nicholas, he had clearly expected her to respond. When she did not, he put it down to shyness, perhaps, and was rougher the second time, so that she pulled away, gasping. Nicholas did nothing to help her. Only when Simon frowned and, looking up, jerked his head to dismiss the three men from the cabin did Nicholas say, when they were alone, ‘It is not your son, but mine.’

  Dionysus turned, his panther-skin ruffled, his arm gripping the girl’s shoulder. He said, ‘She told you that?’ He was smiling.

  ‘Hardly,’ Nicholas said. ‘She wasn’t trying to please me. But it wasn’t difficult to make sure. You can’t sire children now, can you? Although – poor Dionysus – you’ve been attempting for years. It must have been fun, at least, trying.’

  ‘I have children,’ Simon said, astonished. He let Gelis go. ‘Bastards, I don’t mind admitting, but if you took the trouble to ask, you’d find I was, forgive me, sufficiently adequate. Or am I supporting them out of philanthropy?’

  ‘Do you want an answer?’ Nicholas said. ‘I did take trouble. No one has taken more trouble than I have. I found every girl you slept with in Scotland, and bedded them all. Some, I must say, are better than others. None of their children is yours. They’re quite ready to swear it.’ Outside, there was a scuffle. He kept his eyes on his wife, and on Dionysus, who was making no move now to embrace her. She had started to tremble.

  Simon said, ‘I suppose it makes sense. You try to murder me. You kill my sister. And now you are attempting to discount even my natural sons. It will be Henry’s turn next.’ He was breathing hard. He said, ‘I have children. Your wife’s child is mine.’

  ‘Then come and see him,’ said a voice.

  Margot.

  Nicholas swallowed. Simon frowned and Gelis, beside him, suddenly put out a hand to support herself. Margot, standing holding the curtain, looked worn, and a little stern. Behind her was Tobie.

  Tobie said, ‘We’ve got rid of the soldiers. Kathi followed you, Nicholas. We shouldn’t have found you without her. The boat is over there. We can all go there in the bissona. Dionysus may as well see what there is to see.’

  Margot came to Nicholas and said, ‘There is no need to wait any more. Come.’ And after a moment, when Simon and Gelis had left, ‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’

  He had no original words. ‘I feel,’ he said, ‘as if heaven lay close upon earth, and I between the two, breathing through the eye of a needle.’

  ‘That is a man on the point of death,’ Margot said. ‘Not of life. I have done this for you. Don’t belittle it.’

  ‘Belittle it!’ he said. And then, ‘What of Gregorio?’

  And she said, ‘I am not afraid now. Not of anything.’

  *

  The little boat lay low between the moored vessels, its oars at rest, and the candle under the awning threw a single squat shadow, cloaked and hooded, which might have been that of a man or a woman. Then it altered a little, showing that the one figure sheltered another.

  The bissona with the unicorn crest came up very slowly, and touched, its lights out. Margot did not step down, but waited until Nicholas stirred, and then let himself down, his head bent, from the one boat to the other. They saw him move to the awning and wait. Then he spoke, and someone answered inside, so that he parted the curtain and sank to his knees. The voice had been that of a w
oman, and Scots. They saw his shadow, quite still on the canvas.

  On the bigger boat, Margot suddenly moved, and Gregorio’s arms closed about her. ‘Don’t leave me,’ he said.

  There were tears on his cheeks. She looked up at him and said, ‘I will do better than that.’

  Then the curtain moved again, and Nicholas came out.

  There was a child in his arms. Perfect in body, brown of hair, grey of eye – even by torchlight there was little doubt whose son he was. Then he smiled, and there was no doubt at all.

  Across his head, the eyes of Nicholas held those of Gelis. Someone uttered an obscenity: Simon de St Pol, swinging round on her so that she flinched. Then he turned on his heel. His own boat lay just behind. The women had gone, but someone stood very still at the rail; a large man, wearing the mask of an owl. Then he vanished.

  In the midst of the clangour about them they floated in silence. Trumpets stuttered. Fireworks crackled like distant artillery. Gelis suddenly held out her arms, her face running with tears, her gaze fixed on the child. He lay and smiled, but did not stir, who had known so many kind hands.

  The bell of the Basilica spoke: a flat, harsh clang that deepened into a toll. The sound sank through the sparks in the air, down the walls with their torches; down the lamplit boats and the spiralling water, and wiped it all dark.

  By due command of the bell, every light in Venice was extinguished, and all the noise stopped. The Serenissima lay plunged into darkness. Then, dimly, her other bells started to sound, hunting up, hunting down as they rang through their changes. Midnight had come, and brought a new order.

  It was Julius who found a lantern, and tinder, and brought the light up on deck to where the others stood still. He walked to the side, to help Nicholas back. Where the little vessel had been, the water swirled, black and empty. The boat, the child, the woman and Nicholas, all had gone.

  Canst thou bind the Unicorn with his band in the furrow?

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow, when the apricots are here.

  Reader’s Guide

  1. For Discussion: The Unicorn Hunt

  In this novel the House of Niccolò series arrives decisively in Scotland, to add to its portraits of leadership, good and bad, those of the Stewart ruling family. How does Dorothy Dunnett dramatize the nature, and possible consequences for the nation, of the relationships among James and Alexander, John and Margaret and Mary? What impact does Nicholas vander Poele have on these?

  2. “Tired of living life as a victim,” Nicholas embarks in this novel on a complex set of “punishments” of the man he believes is his father. What do you think of this emerging side of him? Of the punishments themselves? Do his punishments hit only their target?

  3. In chapter 26 of this novel Nicholas learns he has the capacity to “divine” where water is, or metals are: how unique do you think this kind of “divining,” or “dowsing,” is? Might you even be able to do this yourself? How is this human gift related to the more mysterious gifts, and roles, of figures like Dr. Andreas of Vesalia and Nicholai de Giorgio de Acciajuoli? Why do you think Dorothy links this gift in chapter 26 to the waking dreams, hallucinatory visions, scraps of insight from another life or realm to which Nicholas is also receptive?

  4. “Walk over with me.” “Go alone. I have a child.” Probably the most intellectually complex and emotionally wrenching scene of the novel takes place at the top of a high mountain, climax of a pilgrimage, in chapter 41. What purpose does this scene serve its romance; the religious references (positive and negative) woven into it? What does Nicholas learn here? Why does he “free” Gelis after her response to his challenge?

  5. Who, or what, is the “unicorn” of the title? Are there multiple possibilities? Several hunts? Some who occupy positions both of hunter and hunted? One version of the legend of the Unicorn requires a “virgin” as both controller and alter-ego of the unicorn—who could this description identify if anyone, among the characters of the novel?

  Dorothy Dunnett was born in Dunfermline, Scotland. She is the author of the Francis Crawford of Lymond novels; the House of Niccolò novels; seven mysteries; King Hereafter, an epic novel about Macbeth; and the text of The Scottish Highlands, a book of photographs by David Paterson, on which she collaborated with her husband, Sir Alastair Dunnett. In 1992, Queen Elizabeth appointed her an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. Lady Dunnett died in 2001.

  Books by Dorothy Dunnett

  THE LYMOND CHRONICLES

  The Game of Kings

  Queens’ Play

  The Disorderly Knights

  Pawn in Frankincense

  The Ringed Castle

  Checkmate

  King Hereafter

  The Photogenic Soprano (Dolly and the Singing Bird)

  Murder in the Round (Dolly and the Cookie Bird)

  Match for a Murderer (Dolly and the Doctor Bird)

  Murder in Focus (Dolly and the Starry Bird)

  Dolly and the Nanny Bird

  Dolly and the Bird of Paradise

  Send a Fax to the Kasbah (Moroccan Traffic)

  THE HOUSE OF NICCOLÒ

  Niccolò Rising

  The Spring of the Ram

  Race of Scorpions

  Scales of Gold

  The Unicorn Hunt

  To Lie with Lions

  Caprice and Rondo

  Gemini

  The Scottish Highlands (with Alastair Dunnett)

  The Dorothy Dunnett Companion Volume I (by Elspeth Morrison)

  The Dorothy Dunnett Companion Volume II (by Elspeth Morrison)

  THE HOUSE OF NICCOLÒ SERIES

  BY DOROTHY DUNNETT

  NICCOLÒ RISING

  Bruges, 1460. Street smart, brilliant at figures, adept at the subtleties of diplomacy and the well-timed untruth, Dunnett’s hero Nicholas rises from wastrel to prodigy in a breathless adventure that wins him the hand of the most powerful woman in Bruges—and the hatred of two powerful enemies.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70477-2

  THE SPRING OF THE RAM

  Backed by none other than Cosimo de’ Medici, Nicholas sails the Black Sea to Trebizond, last outpost of Byzantium, and the last jewel missing from the crown of the Ottoman Empire. But trouble lies ahead. Nicholas’s stepdaughter has eloped with his rival in trade: a Machiavellian Genoese who races ahead of Nicholas, sowing disaster at every port.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70478-9

  RACE OF SCORPIONS

  At the age of 21, Nicholas finds himself in limbo. His beloved wife is dead, his stepchildren have locked him out of the family business, and his private army is the target of multiple conspiracies. And both contenders for the throne of Cyprus—the brilliant Queen Carlotta and her sexually ambivalent brother James—are demanding his support.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70479-6

  SCALES OF GOLD

  As unknown enemies conspire against him in Venice, Nicholas sets sail for Africa, legendary location of the Fountain of Youth and the source of gold in such abundance that men prefer to barter in shells. There he will discover the charms of Gelis van Borselen—a woman whose passion for Nicholas is rivaled only by her desire to punish him for his role in her sister’s death.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70480-2

  THE UNICORN HUNT

  Nicholas seeks to avenge his bride’s claim that she carries the offspring of his archenemy, Simon St. Pol. When she flees before Nicholas can determine whether or not the rumored child is his own—or exists at all—Nicholas gives chase. So begins the deadly game of cat and mouse that will lead him from the infested cisterns of Cairo to the misted canals of Venice at carnival.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70481-9

  TO LIE WITH LIONS

  As three courts vie for his allegiance, Nicholas finds himself embroiled in furious combat with his estranged wife for the future of their young son. He embarks on the greatest business scheme of his life—beginning with a journey to Iceland. But while Nicholas confronts merchant knights and the frozen volcanic wastelands of the North, a grea
ter challenge awaits: the vengeful Gelis, whose secrets threaten to topple all Nicholas has achieved.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70482-6

  CAPRICE AND RONDO

  Winter 1474 finds Nicholas exiled in the frozen port of Danzig, Poland. His Machiavellian exploits in Scotland have cost him friends and family—not to mention countless riches. As Nicholas pursues his future, his estranged wife, Gelis, seeks the truth about his past, only to discover the secret identity of his latest comrade in arms—a ghost from the past poised to deal him the crowning death blow.

  Fiction/978-0-375-70612-7

  GEMINI

  It is 1477 and Nicholas returns to Scotland in search of personal redemption and a haven for his recently reunited family. Friends and foes from many a past adventure converge on the scene as Nicholas becomes swept up in a political involving the Scottish royal family. With tensions escalating and the secrets of his heritage emerging, Nicholas finds that peace can be the most elusive achievement of all.

  Fiction/978-0-375-7085-5

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