Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [213]
Julius gazed at him. “He isn’t still in Piacenza? Or Florence? Is Brother Gilles still in Milan, Thomas?”
Thomas grinned. “You should hear the tales of Brother Gilles. But no, he’s cured and sent on to Florence, so they say. And Meester Tobias did go to Piacenza, because he got us the handguns. But he took his time. He didn’t come back to Milan till the end of February, we were told.” He paused.
“Well?” said Julius sharply.
Thomas grinned again. “Well, he left again. For the Abruzzi.”
Julius stared at him. In his mind’s eye he saw the west coast of Italy, from Rome all the way south to where he was now, in the castle of Naples, preparing to fight for King Ferrante. And in his mind’s eye he saw the opposite, eastern coast of Italy, and the corresponding stretch of coastal land called the Abruzzi. A stretch of land of great interest, since towards it, rumour said, was marching the army of Jacopo Piccinino, now paid by Duke John of Calabria, and intent on joining his force to Duke John’s in preparation for an all-out assault against Naples.
Julius said, “Why would Tobias go to the Abruzzi?”
Thomas’s grin appeared to be fixed. He said, “Oh, there’s no secret about that. He’s gone to join captain Lionetto. He’s gone back to Lionetto, the fellow he was with before he switched to captain Astorre. Wait till captain Astorre hears. There’ll be no holding him. They’ll have to tie him with chains, or he’ll be off to fight Count Piccinino and captain Lionetto and Meester Tobias single-handed.”
All that night Julius, sleepless, thought about it. It should have come as no surprise. Ever since Bologna, he’d got used to being let down. He knew every man looked after himself, and you should expect nothing more. He hadn’t known Tobias well. He’d found him short tempered and impatient and often intolerant, but reasonably fair in his dealings and accurate in his judgements. He had come to rely on his company more than he realised. He should have known that money would talk, in the end.
When Astorre came back with his small fighting group, it turned out that he already knew about Tobias. After a few casual obscenities, he dismissed the matter. The loss of the horse-master would have worried him more. Anyway, now they had this fellow Godscalc and he was an apothecary, wasn’t he? Used to salves and wounds? One medical man was the same as another.
It was, if you thought about it, the way a man like Astorre would react. But to Julius’ eye, accustomed to interpret the tilt of the beard and the glint of the sewn eye, there seemed to be something else. He waited until he got him alone and said, “What’s troubling you then? A real attack on the horizon? A proper battle?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so,” said Astorre. “Duke John’s got a big force out there, and a lot of strongholds with barons in them who don’t like Ferrante. We’re not strong enough to break out and wipe them up yet.”
“Can we afford to wait?” Julius said. “There’s Piccinino marching down the east coast. And they say the King of France has troops massed in Lyons, waiting to cross and help his cousin Duke John.”
“Maybe he has,” said Astorre. “And maybe he hasn’t. A man would say he has his hands full with England and Burgundy just now, without being free to throw armed men in the direction of Italy. And as for Count Piccinino – he’s got to get to the south of Abruzzi, and then cross Italy to get to his friends here. He’ll find that harder than he thinks, especially if the Milanese army comes chasing south after him. No. If it’s battle you’re waiting for, you’ll have to wait a while yet.”
Julius said, “You’ve had some other news then?”
“Oh yes,” said Astorre. “News I’ve had. Thomas, come and sit down. Meester Julius here wants my news, and he ought to have it. You too. Then you can decide whether or not you’re going to join Lionetto as well as that fellow Tobias. Now I know why he did it. By God, now I know.”
Thomas was gazing at