Pawn in Frankincense - Dorothy Dunnett [223]
‘And the girl?’ the dragoman mentioned.
‘Belonged to the English Border and for long has had a relationship with the Scots court. Lady Fleming herself dispatched her to care for the infant.’
The Sultan murmured. ‘You say there is proof,’ said the dragoman. ‘Where is your proof?’
Lymond spoke softly. ‘With such a hostage of Fortune one does not carry proof, nor does one make such a quest public except between men of honour. On the child’s return to his home the King will furnish ample proof, together with the concrete expression of his joy and goodwill. Between allies, a word is enough.’
There was a small silence. For a girl and a child, thought d’Aramon, a nation was going into pawn. For a girl and a child, if he stood silent before these untruths, his own career, already finished, was finished in ignominy. He could claim, perhaps, that he believed what the Ambassador said to be true. He knew it was not.
Then Suleiman spoke and d’Aramon knew that although he waited, head bent in deference, for the translation to end, Lymond had understood every word. ‘Between France and Turkey,’ the Sultan had said, ‘as you say, one word is enough. Between thyself and Turkey, who knows?’
Lymond’s voice, answering, was infinitely sober. ‘My lord, none. You have seen my credentials. You may only put the matter to test. It places an incredible value on two valueless lives.’ He paused. ‘The enemies of the Ottoman Empire are cunning. That this circumstance might divide the Sultan from his allies did not seem to me possible. Rather was I concerned that the princess Khourrém Sultán would suffer a loss from her household which might discommode her. Whether she does so or not, and whatever Your Grace’s decision, I pray you to allow me to add to the gifts of King Henry my master a personal gift from myself to the princess your wife. I can envisage no other happiness than to have it accepted.’
Already, d’Aramon had noted the long, silk-bound packet in the discreet hands of the Ambassador’s page. The Kislar Agha received it, and drawing off its purse of white satin, presented for the inspection of Suleiman the long filigree casket thus revealed.
The pale face did not change. But light in a shimmering band slid over the delicate cheekbones and aquiline nose and lit the dark recesses of the unwinking eyes. The negro moved, and the Baron de Luetz, catching sight for a moment of what the casket contained, drew in his breath. Then Suleiman Khan, dismissing it, said dryly, ‘We thank you. Whether she will accept them is a matter for the princess my wife. Should she suffer no loss, she may desire no compensation. For my part, my reply is quite clear. What the King of France asks, instantly he shall have. Bring me this offer in your master’s own seal and holograph. Prove to me that the boy in my Seraglio is the son of King Henry; or prove to me merely beyond doubt that he is not the son, as is claimed, of my Vizier Jubrael Pasha. And he is yours, without payment, to leave when you will, and the girl also.’
The shut casket shone on the dais. For a long moment, pale gold and white fur, the wilful emissary of France stood still, silenced by failure. Then he said, simply in English, ‘Be it so,’ and making the proper obeisance of courtier to Emperor, waited for the approach of the white and black eunuchs, and, in their grip, moved back from the audience.
It was finished. Outside the kiosk d’Aramon and his six gentlemen moved in order behind him, and in turn the servants and staff, Gaultier and Onophrion Zitwitz, until once more the cortège was complete. With a rustle of plumes, a bending and unbending of colour, a flashing of jewels, the ranks of the Household saluted them. The Gate of Felicity opened, and led by the Chiaus Pasha, in silence, the Ambassador’s column filed out, the gates closing behind them.
Still in the court of the Divan, the Janissaries and Spahis stood silent; the robed officials gathered under the canopy bowed as they moved past; the shadows of the cypress trees lay like bars on the paving and the willow-fronds