Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [78]
Kathi looked away. Beside her, Anselm Adorne sat unmoving, his gaze on the field, his patrician profile betraying no emotion. Behind him, the murmurs continued. Before him, with laughter and shouting, announcements and awards were under way. Under Kathi’s hand, the cutting phrases covered the paper. She could hear Robin swearing continuously under his breath, and compelled herself to read to the end.
It is our command therefore that you depart from the Court of King Casimir, and that, laying all other matters aside, you return to this country at once, leaving the papal nuncio and the envoys of the Republic of Venice to represent us in Persia. We repeat. Whatever you have or have not concluded, you are to return to our presence at once.
It was then that Zygmunt jumped to his feet, proclaiming the arrival of the one unprincipled man who embodied all the alien interests that had brought this about: the friend of Polish princes; the tool of the Patriarch; the past associate of the Venetian envoy. The child’s welcome was for Nicholas de Fleury who, from the way he was sitting his horse, had just completed a long, liquid, and highly profitable morning in and about the marketplace — any marketplace — and was now making his way, at leisure, to where Caterino Zeno awaited him with a smile.
Robin said, ‘Christ God,’ and abruptly disappeared. Anna, her colour high, was grasping the arm of her husband and Julius was actually standing, his handsome face lit with glee. Beside her, Anselm Adorne was quite silent. Kathi felt her upper lip shorten, and told it to stop. She said to her uncle, ‘We could go.’
He did not even look at her. ‘Of course we cannot go,’ he said. ‘Or at least I could not. You may, of course. I would not have you treated with dishonour.’
He was not speaking of Nicholas. He was speaking of his recall, and all it implied. She said, ‘This is not dishonour. It is expediency. The Duke knows he can trust you to do what is right; even to sacrifice your own pride for his sake.’
‘And Tabriz? And Caffa?’ he said. ‘And all my kinsmen — your kinsmen — holding their own in an ocean bordered by Tartars and Turks, in the land of the Crimean Khan? Am I to abandon them and their hopes, and allow the Genoese to be driven from the peninsula because of expediency?’
Kathi said, ‘We could go in your place, Robin and I. Julius is travelling to Caffa.’
‘Julius?’ Adorne repeated. He looked round, but Julius too seemed to have gone.
‘He wouldn’t harm us. He’s interested in trading, not war. I know we are inexperienced,’ Kathi said. ‘But there are men who are familiar with the Black Sea and would advise us. There are consuls, interpreters, guides who would help us pass to Tabriz. We would bring back a report for the Duke.’ She paused, feeling breathless. ‘Whatever happens, the Duke will be in your debt. You will not lose by it.’
‘You are confident,’ her uncle said. ‘Look at the man whose whim has ruined a nation, and see how he has lost by it.’
She stared at the field. They were rearranging it: setting up the marks for fast shooting from horseback; the targets, the wands. The central barrier had gone, and the archers’ mast wore a ball, not a bird. To one side, grooms were arriving with horses and weapons: a bunch of short curling bows and their quivers. A group of three well-dressed men walked into the arena, where they fell into discussion with the President and some of his officers, and then separated. The tallest of the three, in a fine pleated pourpoint and jacket, was Nicholas. The second, covered in cloth of silver, was the Venetian envoy. The third, distinguished by his figured red velvet, was, astonishingly, Julius of Bologna. His wife, gazing at him from the pavilion, wore an expression of exasperation and anxiety which exactly matched Kathi’s own. She had just signalled Anna to join her when, with a thud, Robin returned.
He said,