Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [46]
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Nicholas. ‘But it’s empty.’ He threw the flask aside and sat down.
‘You did that last time,’ the priest said. ‘When your first wife died, and I got you out of Bologna. I nearly made you a man.’
‘That wasn’t you, it was Violante of Naxos. You got me out of it,’ Nicholas said, ‘and I ended in Cyprus.’
‘And you regret it? The time after that, you agreed to fight for Uzum Hasan against Turkey. Then you reneged. So would you have come if Adorne’s party weren’t going?’
‘No,’ said Nicholas. He said it too quickly.
‘Brain getting sluggish?’ said the Patriarch. ‘No, I wouldn’t stop Adorne going. I don’t need to. And yes, you’d have been more use than Adorne. You know Muslims. I could do with your opinion of the trading future of Caffa. And Uzum trusts you. You don’t have an army any more — Oh, I know about Astorre and the rest. But you know a lot about guns, and about war. And you wouldn’t have got wet, in Persia.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t need to?’ said Nicholas.
‘Why are you asking? You’re not going. Benecke won’t get much for his timber, will he?’ the Patriarch said. ‘Late, and patched up with spare splits. I don’t fancy that bit over there. So, you’ll be in Danzig in a few days, and boarding the Peter soon after that. I’ll tell Julius.’
Nicholas, succumbing to, and emerging from a deep pang of nausea, recalled why he hated Ludovico da Bologna so much. He said eventually, ‘Julius? I thought he was in Cologne.’
‘No, no: I’ve just left him in Thorn with your agent. His wife is with him, the beauteous Anna. They were planning to come up to Danzig to see you. And, of course, to see Adorne and his niece. That was a pity,’ the Patriarch said discontentedly. ‘A nice marriage. But she would have made a good nun.’
‘Who? Anna?’ said Nicholas.
He spoke automatically, and the Patriarch replied with a broad snort of amusement, getting up. The Patriarch said, ‘Well, I wager that’s sent you back to drinking water.’
BY THE TIME that the big raft was ready to leave, you could say that, of all the people implicated in Nicholas de Fleury’s short visit to Mewe, one at least emerged from the mayhem with a sense of profound satisfaction. Battered, broken and bruised, balked of his conquest and forced to grovel to the Flemish child and her husband, Paúel Benecke was helped on board that afternoon with his privateering and personal career arranged, at last, as he wanted. Now Adorne’s niece and the boy were on their way north, taking his disapproving bloody Elzbiete with them. Now he had renewed his attachment to that fine woman Gerta. Now Colà and all his assets were to sail with him on the Peter von Danzig.
Filled with ale and contentment, the captain sat with the steersman in the sunshine, waiting for Colà. It did not even alarm him too much to see a couple of mules and three poor-looking pedestrians descend to the jetty, and discover that the Patriarch of Antioch was stepping on board, with the object of demanding a passage to Danzig. Now and then, Benecke had nursed a concern that Ludovico da Bologna might damage Colà’s instinct for adventure. Now, with Paúel himself in the party, it was more likely that Colà and he would frighten the life out of the disgusting old brute. Benecke grinned through swollen lips at the Patriarch, and showed him where he could sit and stow his frayed baggage.
The Patriarch, looking about, nodded to the men who were crossing themselves and enquired if Herr Benecke would like a departure prayer, one that mentioned the current off Ostaszewo and the sandbar at the Mottlau junction. Herr Benecke replied in the affirmative, adding that he thought Nikolás de Fleury, when he arrived, would especially appreciate it.
‘Ah!’ had said the Patriarch. ‘Then I’ll say