Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [170]
‘Oh yes,’ Nicholas said with conviction. He supposed he was coming. It was part of his self-imposed task, to provide mercantile outlets for Anna and Julius and he was aware that, with gold to spend, Anna was planning to accompany him. Also, his conscience told him, inconveniently, that he owed something to both Uzum Hasan and the Patriarch. He added aloud, ‘Anna should have her furs soon. Sinbaldo will look after the business while she is away, and Julius, if he arrives. Unless Julius wants to follow us to Tabriz.’
‘He’d be too late. Uzum Hasan may not be at Tabriz,’ the Patriarch said. ‘One of his sons staged a revolt in the south, and Uzum marched his troops down to Shiraz. He’s spending the winter at Qom surrounded by desperate Venetian envoys, waiting to find out whether he’s going to make war on his sons or the Turk. I want to know, too, so you and the lady can expect a long trip to wherever they are if you want to do business. Unless, of course, you’d rather go back to the West. What about this man Ochoa and your gold?’
‘Leave Ochoa to me,’ Nicholas said. ‘I am not tempted to go back, and I am not tempted to send for my family. Perhaps you can convince Anna of that, since I can’t.’
‘Oh, I believe you,’ the Patriarch said. ‘But your army might join you now of their own accord. I hear they share Julius’s forgiving nature. And the war over Cologne appears extraordinarily confused.’
Nicholas stood up. ‘Have you sent for them?’
‘I thought of it, but without a letter from you, they wouldn’t move. I still think you should invite them to Persia. You’d enjoy playing patron again. Would you put the candle out as you go? And take that with you. You really shouldn’t leave it lying about.’
‘Nikita!’ someone bawled from outside. Dymitr, anxious to gamble. Nicholas looked from the priest, indistinguishable from the sheepskin that wrapped him, to the object to which he referred. He said, ‘Where did you get it?’
‘In your tent,’ said the old ruffian blandly. ‘If Dymitr had seen it, he would have started to wonder.’
Staring at him, Nicholas swore under his breath. Then, snuffing the candle, he rammed the object under his cloak and left the shelter. Behind him, Father Ludovico pronounced a small benediction from his sheepskin. Nicholas crossed to his tent, then joined the others in the big wattle cabin for a night of gaming and drinking and trials of strength. When at length he was free to retire, he sat for a while alone in the light of his candle before he rose to take something out of his purse, and to pick up and bring back the article that Ludovico da Bologna had borrowed.
Unrolled, it revealed itself to be a broad-brimmed straw hat, swathed in ribbons and attached to a streamer of chiffon. He held it on his knee with one hand, while he took the cord of his pendulum in the other. It began to circle almost at once.
He left the camp at first light the next day, to the baffled displeasure of Wiśniowiecki, and a complacent silence on the part of the Patriarch. Then, with four strongly armed men and spare horses, Nicholas de Fleury set off on the long sledge ride back to the Peninsula. And this time, gliding over the sparkling wastes, he was seized with a mindless and untrammelled pleasure, born of the joys of the present and the promise of what lay ahead. To the alarm of his companions, he sang.
IN WINTER, no one ever approached Soldaia unseen: the waterlogged valleys behind were impassable, and the precipitous routes by the coast were too few. As for the sea, nothing moved in the bay or the river-mouth without being watched from the fortress. Nicomack ibn Abdallah was therefore observed, as he approached the town walls, having long since sent back first his sledge, then his escort. There was, however, no reason to spurn a Mameluke steward from Caffa, properly arrived before curfew, and the gate-keepers allowed him to enter, with his single horse and his saddlebag. These days, Caffa and Soldaia were both licensed Genoese