Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [106]
The scheme had, of course, other benefits. As his wife, Primaflora could spy for Carlotta. And as his wife Primaflora, too, was deprived of an independent career and would be well advised to see that her husband chose the right path, and flourished. It was perfectly obvious to Primaflora that the Queen would judge her by her willingness to go through with the marriage, and that she might have to comply. And if that were so, she might as well make the most of it. For example, a loving couple should not be forbidden to meet.
So, offered marriage with Niccolò, Primaflora had hesitated only a moment. ‘As the Serenissima wishes.’
‘As the Serenissima wishes?’ the Queen had said. ‘Do you not wish it? He has, I take it, proved himself vigorous?’
‘There is no difficulty,’ Primaflora had said. ‘But he may try to talk his way out of marriage. On the other hand, he is young and vain: he would respond to fatherhood. That is why I do not think he and I should be separated.’
The Queen lifted her fingers and, caressing a wisp of the other’s blond hair, tugged it briefly. ‘I know you,’ she said. ‘Really, we must observe the proprieties until the contract is signed. On the other hand … He has not heard you are barren?’
She shook her head. That she had no children and could have none was, in many ways, her greatest asset.
‘Then you had better contrive to see him,’ said the Queen. ‘But discreetly. It is most important. I command you.’ As she had always believed, Primaflora found herself proved the better swordsman.
Now, she waited for the Queen’s decision on the Flemish woman’s communication. At length, it came. ‘You will meet her. This cannot wait for the contract. See the woman van Borselen. She has friends in authority, and we must not offend her. Tell her the truth: that we are fully aware of the risks we are running with this mercenary troop, and that we shall take steps to see that the man does not cheat us. Satisfy her.’
‘I suspect,’ said Primaflora, ‘that she will not be satisfied.’
‘No,’ said the Queen thoughtfully. ‘Then let us find out what she wants and harness it.’
‘It may be his death,’ said Primaflora.
‘Or yours. Be careful,’ said the Queen. ‘She must understand that your marriage with the man Niccolò is an arranged one. She must not conceive that you want him. My advisers say no, but I think this is a spurned woman. She could be useful. If this young scoundrel does cheat us, we can help her to punish him. Unless you object?’
Primaflora showed amusement. ‘The world is full of young men.’
The Queen’s expression remained thoughtful. ‘Yes. I know your weakness, Primaflora. But, remember. At this moment, you are my protégée, and your conduct must be impeccable.’
Leaving the room, Primaflora forced herself to walk slowly. She had won a meeting with Niccolò – perhaps several. The Queen knew her, that was true. Envied her, even; for the Queen’s own conduct, however impeccable, was wringing no heir from the limp flesh of her poor cousin Luis. Even so, she was unlikely to imagine quite how much Niccolò differed from other men. In a way, Primaflora was sorry.
And Katelina, the lady she was going to meet? The Queen was wrong. The young apprentice of Bruges would hardly have spurned the kind of girl Katelina must have been several years ago. Or if he had, his singular abstinence could scarcely have caused the notorious rift between himself and Simon, the lady’s good-looking husband. So had Niccolò made Simon a cuckold? It seemed unlikely.