Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [268]
Fioravanti lost his smile. ‘No,’ he said.
‘You don’t even know Signor Contarini!’ said the Greek, mildly chiding.
‘I’ve heard you just now. I know you. No!’ said Fioravanti. ‘In any case, I haven’t the room.’
‘But you would have, if Niccolò left,’ Acciajuoli said.
There was a short silence. Nicholas said, ‘How have you come so far without having your throat cut? Rudolfo, I didn’t know this was happening, and I have to tell you that you would never finish the rest of the cathedral if Contarini comes to stay here. Say no. They’ll find somewhere else.’
‘There is nowhere else,’ said the Greek. ‘And much as you may enjoy being selfless, I have to tell you that this is your one chance of leaving Moscow forthwith. It permits the Duke to remain loftily impartial and you to depart without allotting blame for small matters like stabbings. It is a pity, I agree, for Rudolfo.’
‘I am glad you agree,’ said Rudolfo.
‘But it will not last long. As soon as Niccolò has gone, someone will discover that your work has degenerated through overcrowding. Contarini will be asked to leave.’
‘You promise?’ said Fioravanti.
‘I am a Greek from Florence,’ said Acciajuoli. ‘At this court, I have only to ask.’
‘Really,’ said Nicholas sourly. But his heart was suddenly high.
Chapter 37
AFTER THAT, the end of Nicholas de Fleury’s stay in Moscow came with extreme suddenness. There was time for several feasts, mindless with drink, with Dymitr Wiśniowiecki and his Russians; with Fioravanti and the entire working group from the cathedral; with the merchants he had worked with on Julius’s behalf. He had an audience with the Grand Duchess, although not her husband, and was given, to his embarrassed astonishment, a cloak lined with ermine and a thousand squirrel skins, packed in a bag. He was also to have a guide, and a safe conduct which would procure him another at each stage of his journey. He failed to see Rosso, who had left to travel north with the Duke, but he went to renew his acquaintance with Ambrogio Contarini, for whom he was vacating his rooms.
The accommodation and stabling the Venetian occupied was certainly uninviting, although after the hardships he had endured, you might think that things could be worse. Hardships were not, however, much referred to by the ambassador, who preferred to remember graciously the delightful court of Uzum Hasan, and to express particular interest in the speed with which Messer Niccolò and his companions had made their way north to Moscow, with all the Crimea held in enemy hands. He must be as resourceful as his dear friends Josaphat Barbaro and Marco Rosso. Nicholas replied politely that the ambassador himself had proved at least as resourceful. In its way this was true, although he suspected that most of the resources had been provided by the two servants and elderly Father Stefano, his chaplain, who sat, yellow of skin, in exhausted silence. With a Barbaro, there might have been some profit in exchanging information. With Contarini, it was not worth the risk. Nicholas produced a reassuring account of Rudolfo Fioravanti’s temper and living arrangements, and left. It was only as he stepped from the doorway that the name of the Patriarch of Antioch was mentioned, with distaste.
‘That dreadful man! You know, of course, that he stole the Duke of Burgundy’s presents from the very arms of the Persian ambassador, and handed them over to thieves?’
‘Thieves?’ Nicholas said. ‘Were they not —’
‘Thieves,’ said Signor Contarini, standing at the door in his cheap doublet and coat. ‘Wherever they claimed to have run from. I had the story from Uzum Hasan’s own ambassador, and made sure that Marco Rosso knew it as well. He little knew, our Patriarchal friend, that we should both survive to denounce him.’
‘Surely not,’ Nicholas