Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [129]
He stopped. Nicholas slackened his hands, and hoped Thomas had lost the French again, and that Astorre could keep his temper for a moment – just a few moments longer. The Grand Master said, ‘You have been bold in your assertions: some might say too bold for a young man new to command, facing such an assembly. I have decided therefore that you shall be held to what you proclaim was to be your bond. You will be handed to Queen Carlotta of Cyprus, to send to Kyrenia or wherever on Cyprus she may choose, there to be held in constraint while your men fight for her cause, until such time as you have proved yourself loyal. In time, you may show yourself worthy of the Order you bear. Until then, it is for the head of that Order to decide whether or not you tarnish it by naming yourself one of its Knights. You may leave.’
The rumble of comment again ran round the hall. You could see, from faces mocking or puzzled, disappointed or thoughtful, the three factions whose unseen interests had moulded the outcome of what had just happened. Of course the Hospitallers were angry: they had had their lordly dismissal revoked by the Queen, and might have to watch this equivocal group of mercenaries rising to power and wealth by whatever means in Cyprus. The Genoese, warned by Katelina, must have been inclined to the Order’s belief that dismissal was the safest course, and were not wholly reconciled. Only the Queen’s officers, Nicholas saw, looked content.
Beside Nicholas, John le Grant eased his shoulders, but Astorre still stood like a poker. Thomas said, ‘Is it all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Tobie. ‘Of course it’s all right. We’re under a woman again, and she’s going to eat us for supper.’
They had to bow, retire and, turning, march between guards from the room. It would never do to look happy. Nicholas couldn’t feel entirely happy, in any case, until he knew the last piece of his plan was in place. He produced an expression which he hoped combined simplicity, dignity and reliability with a hint, maybe of penitence. He caught, by accident, the eye of Tomà Adorno and thought again about the Genoese. He had expected them to support the Order’s own view and reject him. He had thought Imperiale Doria, coming forward, had been about to do exactly that. Instead he, a Genoese, had put forward Queen Carlotta’s proposal, and had saved all his schemes from disaster.
He thought that curious, and forgot, for a moment, to look reliable.
Chapter 20
THE SHIP THAT was to deposit on Cyprus the mercenary broker Niccolò vander Poele and his company tossed with the rest in Mandraki Harbour, while the winds that had begun on the night of the killings howled themselves into a storm. In the trading haven, the cog carrying the embalmed body of Tristão Vasquez managed to leave before the gale reached its height, due no doubt to the supplications of the Patriarch of Antioch, who was keen to get back to Italy. From there the boy Diniz could take ship for Portugal, to find and comfort his mother.
From their latest place of confinement the four immediate colleagues of Nicholas could, if sufficiently curious, obtain a view of the ships in the harbour. Watching the sea blooming white along the rocks of the half-built new tower Tobias Beventini observed from his single barred window the fluttering procession of Knights and of monks which attended the casque to the mole and saw, sombre among them, the boy Diniz in black, walking with his aunt Katelina. Later, he watched the ship slowly move out of shelter to rock on the steaming, grape-coloured water. Goodbye, poor lad. Goodbye, also, Ludovico da Bologna.
Later still, the procession came back, wet and hurrying. The demoiselle and her maid returned with it.