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Authors: Dorothy Dunnett

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‘You will tell her,’ said Nicholas.

‘Yes,’ said Zacco. The hazel eyes remained clear. He pushed his hair out of them. He said, ‘These things must be done. I have been as candid with you as I can be. There is nothing you now do not know.’

Nicholas remembered something. ‘The lady Primaflora?’

‘She is with the nuns of the monastery where you left her. The Venetians kept their promise. They want your allegiance. You now know exactly why they want it. You may think that they, too, will not be content to be traders when the Genoese leave, and are building their strength against that day. Perhaps, by then, I shall need them less. I do not know.’ He spoke to Nicholas, but the dark man in the shadows had smiled.

Nicholas rose, his wounds aching, his muscles ill-fitting and grinding. He said, ‘So what price do I pay for the lives of my company?’

And received, again, the shock that reminded him that he did not know this young, comely man; that he must beware of comparing him with any of the careless, laughter-loving friends from his home. Zacco said, ‘It is not a high price. We face winter: they will not sail just yet, especially as Carlotta is expected in Rhodes. They will wait for her. Therefore, you will send to Rhodes, to say where you are. When it suits you, you will go there. You will tell them all I have told you. If they wish to go home, you will send them home. I shall not stop them. If they wish to come here and fight for me and for you, then I will pay them their full worth and more. But the choice is theirs, and yours. I will tell you this, too. I hope they will come. But my real need is for one man, and that man is you.’

Nicholas said, ‘And if I choose not to return?’

Zacco said, ‘I have already told you. For what you have undergone, reparation in rents will be paid, so long as I rule. You will suffer no harm. I shall merely know I was mistaken.’ The hazel eyes gleamed. ‘Despite my friends, I make many mistakes. But
still, I trust my senses. Have you heard enough to reach a decision?’

‘When do you want my answer?’ said Nicholas.

‘When you are ready. You have heard of Marco Corner? He and Giovanni Loredano married sisters. They share a town palace here in Nicosia which other Venetians use: they offer you chambers there, while you consider your decision. It will give you peace, away from the Haute Cour. It will give you time, too, to hear the Venetian side of the dilemma. I think I am being fair?’

‘It was the word that sprang to my mind,’ Nicholas said.

The watching face of the knight remained stern: only the young man threw back a quirk of the mouth that changed slowly to something that was not laughter. Zacco said, ‘Try and come. Try. I need you with me, not against me. I need someone to think far, far ahead. I need another scorpion.’

‘I can see that you do,’ Nicholas said.

Chapter 11

N
ICHOLAS FOUND
himself with the Venetians the following morning, after a night in the infirmary which restored some of his energy and gave him time for profound thought.

A speculative temperament was not something he would be credited with. Since he left the shores of Italy, he had been surrounded by men who knew nothing about him but hearsay. But then, even friends of his boyhood would not have been surprised at what had happened. He had been removed without his consent from what he had chosen to do; had objected; had been mishandled; had objected again. He had not been meek, but he had followed from habit his childhood response. Where nothing could be helped except by submitting, he submitted. Except once, in this case, on the journey from Cape Gata to Nicosia, where he had resisted to the end of his powers. On that occasion, however, he had known what was going to happen, whether he resisted or not.

On the morning he was to leave, Marietta of Patras had come to visit him. She wore a different kerchief, but the whistling voice was the same. He realised, when he stood, that she was above medium height as red-haired Greeks often were. She waved off the seat she was offered. ‘I have no time. My son says you have not immediately joined him? Because of Tzani-bey?’

‘Partly,’ Nicholas said. ‘It was not a welcome I should care to repeat.’

She had ordered him whipped. She had shown neither dismay nor embarrassment on learning her error, and he could detect none now. She had come to say something, and could see no reason to greet him with an apology. ‘If I arrange to have Tzani-bey killed,’ Cropnose said, ‘will you join my son? Bringing your army?’

‘Most certainly not,’ Nicholas said. ‘If your son punishes Tzani-bey as he deserves, then I might. Or again, I might not. But if you act without leave of your son, nothing whatsoever will induce me to come.’

The kerchief, motionless, was a threat in itself. ‘You think my son is more sagacious than I am?’

Nicholas said, ‘Probably not. But you are not the King-claimant of Cyprus.’

The kerchief slowly sucked itself hollow, and dropped again. She said at length, ‘So you will go to Carlotta? You have Genoese friends, so I hear. And Portuguese friends. The Duchess of Burgundy is Portuguese. So was Carlotta’s first husband.’

Nicholas sighed. He said, ‘Madame, I have your son’s undertaking that he will wait for my answer. When I know what it is, I shall give it to him. But I shall tell you this. I will not join Queen Carlotta.’

The silk snapped like a whip. ‘
Queen
Carlotta?’

‘She is still Queen of Kyrenia,’ Nicholas said. ‘And the Pope calls her Queen. Only Tzani-bey and the Sultan of Cairo allow your son the supreme title. Tzani-bey is worth more to you at present than I am.’

‘Yes. I see that,’ she said. ‘And he is a man, who understands men. Go home. This is no place for children.’

She left without looking round or she would have seen, with satisfaction, that he was unsmiling. Despite this, one profile was pierced by a dimple. In the whole of Cyprus there was no one to guess, as Tobie might have guessed, what that implied.

The Venetians’ house, when he got there, proved to be an old palace, built in the rich and decadent days when the Latins had come straight from Jerusalem, and brought all their luxury with them. There were warehouses adjoining, and a yard with many crates and two kneeling camels. An ornate marble-flanked gate led to a garden with orange trees and a fountain, at present not functioning. He gave some thought to the best way of leaving his mule, and this done, looked about him and won a small wager with himself. Observing him from an inner balcony was Messer Giovanni Loredano, the young vice-Bailie who had served him food at Cape Gata. Messer Loredano exclaimed, disappeared, and reappeared running from the house door. He stopped just before knocking Nicholas over. ‘My God: what have they done?’

‘What they should have done to you,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have an itemised list in my satchel.’ The distress, he thought, was genuine, although several generations of artifice had perfected its expression. He thought, now he had time, that Vanni Loredano looked like nothing so much as a fully articulated model of a Venetian nobleman. He was led indoors, seated, and given excellent wine in a silver cup, quickly. He was in what appeared to be the nave of a cathedral. Loredano, sitting so near in his anxiety that their knees appeared to be touching said, ‘What can I do? What can I say? The Bailie will complain to the Palace tomorrow. Has the King seen how you were treated?’

Nicholas lay back and let the wine go to his head. He said, ‘Does it matter? I’m leaving.’

Loredano in turn shifted a little. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Who could blame you? And you will take your men?’

‘What men?’ Nicholas said.

‘We had word –’ Loredano began. He broke off. He said, ‘I’m sure they told you at the Dominicans’. Your captain and men are at Rhodes.’

‘That’s useful,’ Nicholas said. He waited, sipping.

The other man said, ‘You will be glad to hear that the lady is safe. The lady Primaflora.’

‘Where?’ said Nicholas.

Loredano said, ‘In the south. You were right. It was safest. Since the monastery was in such distress, we lodged her with the Knights of St John at Kolossi.’

Through his abused and beaten body, a delightful, vinous glow was beginning to spread. Check. Check and check. The night’s internal debate duplicated itself in his mind, with certain premises illuminated the way Colard Mansion illuminated them when he was drunk. Nicholas said, ‘Well, that’s useful too. Carlotta wants her.’

Check and check. The Venetian said, ‘The Order does not know, it is true, that the lady has left Queen Carlotta, but her presence at Kolossi is only a temporary measure. As you know, she does not wish to return to the Queen. She feels her place is with you.’

‘Then she does have a dilemma,’ Nicholas said.

There followed the sort of silence into which Zacco’s mother Cropnose had fallen. Loredano said, ‘Because of Tzani-bey, you have decided to join Queen Carlotta?’

‘My soldiers are joining her,’ Nicholas said. ‘Or so I was told.’

‘But King James!’ Loredano said. ‘Did he not tell you –?’ He stopped.

‘That he would have them all intercepted and killed unless I stayed to fight for him? No, he didn’t. If he made you that promise, he broke it. I,’ Nicholas said, ‘am free to join my army and leave if I please, when I please.’

They were no longer sitting knee to knee. The Venetian’s broad, suntanned face, brown and flat as a chestnut, had lost its understated veneer. He pushed his cup aside and rose, stepping among the painted chests and gilt stools. He turned, his hands on a ledge. He said, ‘I understand. You are entitled to do this. We deserve it. But the issues are momentous, and not only for us, the traders. Not only for Venice. But I do need to know one thing. I believe that Zacco has left you a free agent, although I can’t understand why. So will you go to Carlotta?’

‘Would I have come here and let you kill me if I intended it?’
Nicholas said. ‘And of course, you have Primaflora. You only have to tell the Knights that she had betrayed Carlotta, and they would see that the Queen got to know of it.’

‘Does that matter to you?’ said Loredano. On his smooth face was real surprise.

‘You thought it didn’t?’ Nicholas said. ‘Then you sent her to Kolossi for other reasons. I’m sure the Knights, for example, have no idea that Venetians brought her. Of course not. Queen Carlotta’s household has nothing to do with Venetians. So she was muffled going ashore, and I was muffled. So that, when I appear at Kolossi, I can pass for one of Queen Carlotta’s men too. Unless, of course, my inconvenient army appears …’

Nicholas paused. The brown gaze of the Venetian appeared mesmerised. Nicholas wondered what the man had expected. From what they had seen of him on shipboard, perhaps not very much. He resumed his exposition, which was giving him some enjoyment. ‘For you didn’t expect Captain Astorre and his friends to follow so quickly, did you? And especially, you didn’t foresee that he would guess wrong, and try to follow me to the wrong side. But still, it gave King Zacco a weapon to force me to join him. And since he chose not to use it, you will now have to fall back on your second weapon: the girl, which I have just presented you with. And if that doesn’t work: if, despite all my protestations I really don’t care a hoot for the lady, there is the best lure of all: the Venetian franchises. You are factor for the Episkopi sugar estates.’

‘I am not offering you these,’ Loredano said. His speech had changed.

‘What a pity,’ Nicholas said. ‘Because, as everyone keeps reminding me, I do have friends among the Genoese and their Portuguese associates. In return for helping Carlotta and the Genoese, I might have done quite well out of sugar. If not here, then on Madeira, for example. Portugal’s new island colony, with all those promising sugar fields. Madeira appeals to me. I have a … relative working in Portugal at this moment with whom I have a certain friendly rivalry.’ He formed and unformed a smile, without otherwise moving.

Loredano said, ‘A moment ago, you denied that you would go to Carlotta. It had occurred to you, as I remember, that you are friendless. And Carlotta is not on this island.’

‘A moment ago,’ Nicholas said, ‘I must admit that I assumed we were talking of sugar. I also, perhaps, overstated my attachment for the lady whose chamber you were so anxious that I should share. The truth is, I’m afraid, that I am still in a position to choose. Only I, for one thing, can instruct my company not to sail to Kyrenia. And on my death, they would certainly work for Carlotta. And if Carlotta wins, the Genoese take all the sugar interests. You were saying?’

The other man released the ledge. His fingers looked cramped. He moved to a cross-legged chair a little distance from where Nicholas sat, and placed himself carefully in it without recovering his goblet of wine. The chair was covered with crimson velvet appliquéd with cloth of gold. ‘I was reminding myself,’ said Loredano, ‘that on shipboard, the Bailie certainly mentioned that the sugar estates lacked good management. Not, of course, those in private hands, such as Episkopi. But there are others. The estates of the Knights are put out to franchise. So are the royal sugarcane fields. At present, the rights to both are held by Venetians.’

‘They must be deeply concerned,’ Nicholas said. ‘If Carlotta prevails, they will lose them. Which Venetians hold them at present?’

The vice-Bailie looked at the pointed toes of his ankle-length boots and, receiving no help, back to Nicholas. He said, ‘You met Luigi Martini on the
Doria
. He and his brother hold both of the franchises. They manage the Kolossi crop for the Knights, and the cane fields at Kouklia and Akhelia for the King.’

Nicholas kept his face solemn. It was difficult. Hence, therefore, the grim face of Luigi Martini on shipboard. It was by no wish of his that Nicholas was to be tempted with sugar. It explained why sugar had vanished so soon from the offer. Nicholas said, ‘I could hardly remain to serve Zacco in war and Carlotta’s allies the Knights in the sugar fields. That seems to leave only the King’s farm as an option. Do you imagine both the King and the Martini would consider leasing it to me?’

Loredano said, ‘If they did, would you bring your army to Cyprus for Zacco?’

BOOK: Race of Scorpions
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