Free The Law of Angels by Cassandra Clark Page B

usually handled. “You’ll take a drink while I show the lord steward what we’ve drawn up so far?”
    “Thank you, master,” she replied as by rote. She sat demurely by and sipped her wine, her wide violet eyes trailing equally over the nun and the assembly of men.
    Almost at once Baldwin muttered something about having to be off, threw back his drink and slipped from the workshop without another word. Jankin picked up his pestle again and Gilbert said something about going on down to have a word with Master Talcot before he got too drunk to make sense. He lingered, however, when he noticed Hildegard’s attention turn to some small pieces of vellum on a nearby shelf.
    The master had referred to the vidimus. Let us see. But the drawings that had caught her eye were small preparatory sketches made with what looked like silver point. Danby was eager to tell her that they were the prototypes for the full-scale drawing. The one on top showed the Virgin crowned in splendour, a subject apparently chosen by Melisen. Hildegard smiled. No unpleasant scenes of torture or spiritual suffering for Roger’s young wife.
    Danby placed the drawing on the trestle. The details had not been filled in and the face of the Virgin was a mere oval.
    He spread the others out one by one.
    Some were plainly bordered patterns, stylised oak leaves, a few shields, interlaced flowers and two figures which must surely be the donors. Roger was recognisable from the rich garments he was wearing, his broad shoulders, horse-rider’s legs, Norman beard exactly replicating their model.
    Ulf stayed the master’s hand for a moment. “Whose work is this?”
    Master Danby gestured towards Gilbert. “That young devil’s,” he said.
    Ulf was grinning. “A most wicked likeness, brother!”
    Gilbert stared humbly at the floor.
    The figure representing Melisen was a rough outline of a woman with long hair, and it was this that the two men began to discuss. “He’ll draw her from the life, of course,” said Danby. “It’s what she’s asked for. But be sure to tell Lord Roger that I’m only doing as requested. It’s not my preference. That’s not coming into it.”
    “You won’t take the blame for anything. Don’t worry on that score. Otherwise, no problems?”
    The master chuckled. “None whatsoever. Tell him I’m honoured by his choice.”
    Ulf replaced the sketches on the trestle. “I don’t know whether you know this, but you should.” He lowered his voice. “Your brother asked for a cut of the action. He even sent somebody to the Hutton stand we’re erecting to plead his case.”
    “He did what?” The master looked put out. “That was somewhat forward of him.”
    “I told Lord Roger so. He said he’d prefer the organ grinder to the fool.”
    “I’ll not pass that comment on,” replied Danby with a rueful smile. “Baldwin’s working away a lot, somewhere over in the West Riding, and maybe he’s hoping to spend more time back home. He wouldn’t mean anything spiteful by trying to muscle in, I’m sure.” Despite his defence of his brother he was clearly upset. His wife looked on without comment. The apprentice continued to pound the shards of glass into powder with a faraway expression on his face.
    “Whatever the case,” Ulf continued, “my lord is very well pleased with what he’s seen of your work so far.” He raised his stoup and clashed it with that of his host. Danby, smiling, looked, even so, somewhat wounded by his brother’s apparent disloyalty.
    *   *   *
    Hildegard left when Ulf did and they came to a stop on the corner of the street before parting. “That journeyman really has a skill out of the ordinary,” she commented. “Danby’s a lucky man.”
    “He is. Gilbert would be setting up on his own but for the fact that he’s a foreigner. He’ll find it difficult here, even with his master’s support.”
    “Where’s he from?”
    “Some way down south, midlands somewhere. He appeared six months