Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [247]
“No,” said Nicholas.
“He thought Meester Tobias had gone back to Lionetto as well. The other ear nearly flew off. So in a way, when Felix told him you were just manager, and Tobias hadn’t gone back on his word, he felt better.”
“I could see him feeling better,” said Nicholas. “The back of his head nearly scorched me. Tell him the Widow is happy to leave everything to him and Thomas. How should I know what to tell him to do?”
“I’ll tell him,” said Julius doubtfully. “But what happens when you want him to do something?”
Nicholas said, “Felix will tell him.”
The tilted, narrow eyes looked at him.
Nicholas said, “Felix is heir to the Charetty company. Never forget it. He and his mother are the owners. I’m only someone who owes them a debt.”
“Like you owe Jaak de Fleury a debt?” Julius said. “He brought you up as well. And there’s Simon of Kilmirren. He taught you to swim. You’ve been nice to him, too. And I expect you’re planning to thank the person (who was it? A strong-minded lute-player with a daughter?) who gave you the elegant mark on your cheek. I gather you owe Lionetto, even, a debt. According to the way you let him do what he likes to you.”
It was six months since Nicholas had parted company with Julius in Milan, and Astorre had taken the army to Naples. He had grown out of the habit of understanding Julius. And Julius had never understood him at all. Nicholas said, “I was saving him for Astorre. Have they met?”
Diverted, Julius gave his irresistible, reminiscent smile. He said, “On the first morning. Honours were even. No, in Astorre’s favour. He had more to defend than Lionetto. But so far, the battle is verbal.”
Nicholas said vaguely, “After all, they’re on the same side. Will Astorre want to stay with the Charetty, then?”
“Handle him tactfully,” Julius said. “And yes, he’ll stay.”
“And you?” said Nicholas. He waited.
Julius was not watching him. His eyes were on the lists, where a pattern had formed; the familiar pattern of the formal joust. Between the barriers the grass was smooth and empty and green. At either end the competitors, armed and helmed, waited in readiness. The sun flashed on lifted trumpets and the air carried, ominously, the tuck of the drums.
Julius turned. “I’ll stay,” he said. “Until I’ve worked out how you do it.”
“Do what?” said Nicholas.
“Make money. What else did you think? There’s Felix,” said Julius.
And they both fell silent, and watched.
The honours of the day fell to Count Federigo’s contestants, and no harm befell Felix. His face, luminous under the dirt, crowned with laurel, turned dazed and beaming from side to side as he marched with the victors, led by the drums and whistles and trumpets of the joint armies. Loppe, in Charetty blue silk, carried a prize purse of gold coins behind him.
The procession wound twice round the field and divided. Slowly, like the parting of the Red Sea, the spectators withdrew, one half to the hill and the other half to the tents on the plain. The workmen, hurrying, began to bring down the lists. The suites of the commanders, briefly acknowledging each other, set off, banners flying, drums beating in opposing directions. Felix, breaking away as the ceremonial procession entered camp, gasped and bellowed beneath the thumping fists of his friends, while keeping a firm eye on Loppe and the purse.
Tobie was missing. “Well, of course,” Felix said. “Didn’t you see?”
Not being privileged as Felix was, his friends had not seen.
“Well, didn’t you hear?” said Felix, astonished. “One of the Milanese sergeants lost control of his horse and was pounding straight across the course just as de Marsciano was galloping up to the lists. They nearly collided. They could have been killed, but Count Federigo saw it. He threw his battle-horse straight into a gallop and got between them and veered the sergeant’s horse away. But his own horse gave such a bound when he spurred it that it just about shattered his spine. He got off, but he can’t move. He’s in agony.”
“Count Federigo?” said Thomas.
Astorre, bustling past, stopped at his shoulder. “What