Tracy Chevalier - The Lady and the Unicorn

Maman? What did Léon mean?

Nicolas made a funny sound, like a snort and a cry together. ‘What do you mean, Claude and Dame Geneviève?’

‘Come, you know exactly what I mean. That was my other suggestion. The likenesses are too apparent. Jean Le Viste won’t like that. I know you are used to painting portraits, but in the final paintings you must make them look more like the other ladies.’

‘Why?’

‘Jean Le Viste wanted battle tapestries. Instead you have given him his wife and daughter to look at. There is no comparison.’

‘He agreed to the unicorn tapestries.’

‘But you don’t have to give him an ode to his wife and daughter. Now, I do have sympathy for Dame Geneviève. Jean Le Viste is not an easy man. But you know that she and Claude are thorns in his side. He wouldn’t want them depicted in something as valuable as the tapestries.’

‘Oh!’ I cried, and this time I did knock my head against the tabletop. It hurt.

There were surprised grunts, then two faces appeared beneath the table. Léon was glaring, but Nicolas smiled when he saw it was me. He held out his hand and helped me up.

‘Thank you,’ I said when I was standing. Nicolas bowed over my hand, but I pulled my hand away before he could kiss it, and made a show of straightening my dress. I wasn’t quite ready to forgive him the rude things he had said about my father.

‘What were you doing there, you naughty girl?’ Oncle Léon said. For a moment I thought he was going to swat me as if I were the same age as Petite Geneviève, but he seemed to remember himself and didn’t. ‘Your father would be very angry if he knew you had been spying on us.’

‘My father would be very angry if he knew what you said about him, Oncle Léon. And you, Monsieur,’ I added, glancing at Nicolas.

There was a silence. I could see both men thinking back to their earlier words, trying to remember what would be offensive to Papa. They looked so worried that I couldn’t help laughing.

Oncle Léon frowned at me. ‘Claude, you really are a very naughty girl.’ He sounded less stern this time – more as if he were trying to placate a little lapdog.

‘Oh, I know. And what about you, Monsieur – do you think I’m a very naughty girl?’ I said to Nicolas. It was wonderful to be able to see his handsome face.

I didn’t know how he would answer, but he delighted me by saying, ‘You are certainly the naughtiest girl I know, Mademoiselle.’ For a second time his voice touched my maidenhead, and I felt wet there.

Oncle Léon snorted. ‘That’s enough. Claude, you must go now. Your father will be here soon.’

‘No, I want to see the picture of my mother. Where is it?’ I turned to the drawings and pushed them about the table. They were a jumble of ladies and Le Viste banners and lions and unicorns.

‘Claude, please.’

I ignored Oncle Léon and turned to Nicolas. ‘Which one is it, Monsieur? I would like to see.’

Without a word he pulled a drawing from across the table to me.

I was relieved to see that Maman was not so pretty as me in the drawing. Nor was her dress so fine as mine, but much plainer. And the wind wasn’t blowing through the drawing – the banner wasn’t rippling, and the lion and unicorn sat tamely rather than standing rampant as they did in mine. In fact, everything in it was very still, except that Maman was pulling a necklace from a casket held by one of her ladies-in-waiting. I didn’t mind now that Maman was in the tapestries as well – the comparison favoured me.

But if Oncle Léon had his way neither of our faces would remain. I would have to do something. What, though? Although I had threatened Léon with repeating his words to my father, in truth I knew that Papa wouldn’t listen to me. It was terrible to hear Maman and me referred to as thorns, but Léon was right – Maman had not produced an heir, for my sisters and I were not boys. Every time Papa looked at us he was reminded that all of his wealth would one day go to my husband and son, who would not carry the Le Viste name or coat of arms. Knowing this had made him even colder with us. I knew too from Béatrice that Papa did not share Maman’s bed.

Nicolas tried to save Maman and me. ‘I will only change their faces if Monseigneur asks me to,’ he declared. ‘Not if you do. I make changes for the patron, not the patron’s merchant.’

Oncle Léon glared at him, but before he could respond we heard footsteps in the hallway. ‘Go!’ Léon hissed, but it was too late for me to escape. Nicolas put his hand on my head and gently pushed me down so that I was kneeling. For a moment my face was close to his bulging groin. I looked up and saw him smiling. Then he shoved me under the table.

It felt even colder and harder and darker under the table this time, but I wouldn’t have to endure it for long. Papa’s feet came straight to the table, where he stood next to Léon, with Nicolas to one side. I sat looking at Nicolas’ legs. He seemed to be standing differently now that he knew I was there, though I could not say what exactly was different. It was as if his legs had eyes and were watching me.

Papa’s legs were like himself – straight and indifferent as a chair’s. ‘Now, the designs,’ he said.

Someone was scrabbling among the drawings, moving them around the table. ‘Here they are, Monseigneur,’ Nicolas said. ‘As you see, you can look at them in this order. First the Lady dons her necklace for the seduction of the unicorn. In the next she plays the organ to get the unicorn’s attention. And here she is – feeding a parakeet – and the unicorn has moved closer, though he is rampant and his head is still turned away. He is almost seduced, but needs more temptation.’

I noted the pause before Nicolas said ‘feeding’. So, I have become Taste, I thought. Then taste me.

‘Then the Lady weaves a crown of carnations in preparation for a wedding. Her own wedding. As you can see, the unicorn is now sitting calmly. At last—’ Nicolas tapped the table ‘—the unicorn lies in her lap and they look at each other. And in the final tapestry she has tamed him – she holds him by the horn. You can see that the animals in the background are now in chains – they have become the slaves of love.’

When Nicolas finished there was a silence, as if he expected my father to speak. But Papa said nothing. He often does that, keeping quiet to make people unsure of themselves. It worked this time too, for after a moment Nicolas began to speak again, sounding nervous.

‘You can see, Monseigneur, that throughout the unicorn is accompanied by the lion, who represents nobility, strength and courage as a complement to the unicorn’s purity and wildness. The lion is an example of noble savagery tamed.’

‘Of course the background will be filled with millefleurs , Monseigneur,’ Léon added. ‘The Brussels weavers will design that themselves – that is their speciality. Nicolas has only hinted at it here.’

There was another pause. I found I was holding my breath, waiting to see if Papa would remark on the drawings of Maman and me. ‘There are not enough coats of arms,’ he said at last.

‘The unicorn and lion hold Le Viste banners and standards throughout,’ Nicolas said. He sounded annoyed. I reached over and nudged his leg to remind him not to use such a tone with my father. Nicolas shuffled his feet.

‘In two of the drawings there is only a banner,’ Papa said.

‘I could add shields for the lion and unicorn to carry, Monseigneur.’ Nicolas must have taken my hint, for he sounded calmer. I began to stroke his calf.

‘The standard and banner poles should be spiked,’ Papa declared. ‘Not the round ends you have drawn.’

‘But – spikes are for battles, Monseigneur.’ Nicolas spoke as if someone were strangling him. I giggled and moved my hand up to his thigh.