Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [248]
“Waste of time,” Julius said. “If I know Felix, he won’t hand over a penny. What do we do now without our good commander, the lord Federigo of Montefeltro, Count of Urbino?”
“Sforza of Pesaro will take over,” Nicholas said. “Messer Alessandro, the Duke of Milan’s brother. The lord Federigo’s good father-in-law.”
“They say,” said Julius, “that Alessandro’s spoiling for a fight. You don’t suppose he’ll create one?”
“I don’t know,” said Nicholas. “Although I’m trying to care, for Astorre’s sake. I’m planning, before anything happens, to get ready to set off for home. I hope that Tobie, once he’s cured the Count, might come with me. And I think that Felix, at long last, might be content to come back to Bruges with his laurels.”
He waited. Julius said, “Tobie?”
Nicholas said, “We’ve been doing business together. He’s almost as good as you. Better at purges.”
“Thank you,” said Julius. He paused. “What business?”
“Making money,” said Nicholas. “If you hadn’t joined Astorre, I should have asked you to join us. It’s Charetty business, but in my hands more than the demoiselle’s. I found a notary for her. Gregorio of Asti.”
“Felix told me. I’ve heard of him. Does Felix know what you’re talking about?” Julius said. He looked surprised.
Nicholas grinned. “It’s the first secret I’ve ever known him to keep. I warned him if he told a soul about it, he’d lose all the money.”
Julius said, “It doesn’t sound as if you need me. Whatever the deal is, you’ve already carried it through?”
“Well, you were winning wars in Naples,” said Nicholas. “Now it needs running, and I am asking you to join us. If you’re not interested, never mind, I won’t burden you with the details. If you are, tell me. But take your time. Tobie has to put Count Federigo together before we can go. At least he doesn’t sing.”
He was glad to reach the tent, for the fever had weakened him more than he liked. Julius left him. He had been rather silent and had made no commitment, but Nicholas thought on balance that he would come back to Bruges. Lying still on his bed, he began to consider Astorre and his officers, but fell asleep almost at once.
When he woke it was dark, and Tobie was in the other bed, reading by candlelight. He stirred, and Tobie said, without looking up, “Did you convert Julius? I suppose you thought it worth it.”
“I laid a trail,” Nicholas said. “Time enough to ask him how his Turkish is. What about the Count?”
“He’ll live,” said Tobie. He tossed down his papers. “One-eyed, broken-nosed, weak-backed and thirty-eight years old. He’s laddered the inside of his back like a piece of old quilting and he can’t move an inch, but he’ll live all right. He’ll be up in two weeks.”
Nicholas said, “According to Julius, Alessandro wants to fight.”
“Alessandro,” said Tobie, “wants to march out while Urbino is sick and command a successful battle. They’ve just had a council of war at the Count’s bedside. There’s nothing wrong with my lord Federigo’s brain or his mouth. He spent half an hour pointing out that we haven’t the men for an attack, and that we’re already stirring them up with constant skirmishing. We have to hang on and wait.”
“But?” said Nicholas.
“But he’s married to Alessandro’s daughter. He had to make a concession. In two days’ time, Sforza can make a limited attack on one wing of the enemy, using three squadrons only. He might reduce their supplies and their numbers. If he loses, the whole army hasn’t gone.”
“Astorre?” said Nicholas.
Tobie said, “No, thank God. The Sarno men have done enough. It’s the fresh squadrons he’ll use; the restless ones that haven’t been blooded.”
Nicholas said, “I want to get back to Bruges.”
Tobie said, “You could, in a few days. If you wait a bit longer, I’ll come with you. Otherwise