Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [121]
‘As you like,’ Nicholas said. He and the boy were still looking at one another. It came to Tobie that Nicholas, alone of them all, knew what he was doing. The boy, in his heart, was not afraid of him. If Nicholas took him in his arms, the boy would break down and weep, as he must.
But that was the last thing Katelina would allow. The boy stayed in her grasp, an object of pity, but not of understanding. And, clenching his teeth, he didn’t break down. Then they were moving, and Primaflora brought her horse close and spoke to Nicholas. ‘They should thank you. Without you and Lopez, the boy might not have been found. You risked your life to follow the murderers. Are you hurt?’
Nicholas rode without answering. Then he said, ‘We all took scratches. You, too.’
She said, ‘I wouldn’t have missed it. I didn’t know you, before. When can we meet? Niccolò?’
It was softly spoken, and Tobie supposed none but himself had overheard it. Nicholas said, ‘When the Queen lets you come. She will. We are affianced.’
Primaflora said, ‘I want a bond stronger than that.’
Through the dirt, one indentation appeared. ‘Soon,’ he said. She looked at him and then, with discretion, drew a little apart. Nicholas spoke again, without raising his voice. ‘Tobie: the boy would be better with you.’
Tobie said, ‘I thought of that. The demoiselle wouldn’t allow it. What is it – fourteen miles, fifteen? He should manage.’
Silence fell. On his other side, Astorre frequently talked, addressing his neighbours; rehearsing some recent or long-ago fight. Sometimes he drew Tobie into the conversation, until Tobie’s monosyllables annoyed him too much. Nicholas said nothing at all until they were past Phileremos and could see, very distantly, the glow in the sky that spoke of the City of Rhodes.
Now, the cavalcade was much smaller, reduced by the Knights who formed the garrison on the Mount. For the first time in a long while, Nicholas spoke. ‘Where are le Grant and Thomas?’
Tobie looked round. In the uncertain light, he saw several of the Knights who had set out with their party, but the two men of their own were not visible. He said, ‘They’ll have gone back on their own.’
‘Without reporting?’ Nicholas said. ‘Look again.’
Tobie looked. The cavalcade still stretched before and behind, obscured by the smoke and the darkness. Closer at hand, its nature had changed. Where Katelina and the boy had been, there were now well-armed horsemen quite strange to him. Captain Astorre trotted still at his shoulder. But beyond him were two other well-accoutred Knights of the Order, and behind him, Primaflora’s protectors. Primaflora herself had been drawn out of sight. There was no sign of Loppe, or of any other faces he knew.
Tobie said, ‘What was it you said? Incantations, cauldrons and mirrors?’
Nicholas turned. With whatever effort, the weariness had been banished, to be replaced by a view of one dimple. He said, ‘You remembered. If you hadn’t, I’d have made a small wager. Our standing has changed, as I said it would.’
‘We are about to go back to prison?’ said Tobie.
‘Or worse,’ Nicholas said. ‘We foiled someone’s plans; so probably worse. Tell Astorre. We make no resistance. We make no excuses. I do all the talking. We shall probably be met at the gate. There you are. We are being met at the gate. Do you see anyone you know?’
Tobie was abruptly put in touch with his last meal. Only Nicholas did that to him. Only Nicholas could orchestrate this kind of disaster. Ahead, flushed with light, stood the great drum towers of the entrance. There was a squadron of soldiers beneath, their spears flashing. He could see the Grand Commander of Cyprus, and the Treasurer of the Order, and a man in black, wearing a broad-brimmed black hat over the cowl of his cloak. The man in black had crossed teeth and was smiling. So was Nicholas. Tobie didn