Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [132]
If he wanted to run, his choice was limited. Below him was the Street of the Knights. To the right, stood the church and the way to the Palace of Cyprus. There were men and women, in groups, on both streets. He chose the way to Queen Carlotta, and took to his heels. The missiles thickened, and the men on either side of him closed in. Then it all stopped. Suddenly, in place of the stone-throwers, he found himself surrounded by a cordon of officious, protective Genoese.
His first reaction, which no one else, perhaps, could have predicted, was one of cold rage at their presumption. For a silly moment, he actually considered fleeing them too, rather than have his finely-tuned programme upset.
Well, it had been upset. The Genoese had surrounded him and marched him, chipped and bruised, to their Langue. Correctly, of course, they had sent to tell Queen Carlotta. But either they took a long time to send, or Queen Carlotta took a long time to collect him, because he was held in the Langue for fully an hour while the Genoese made sure he had something to think about.
They held him in a small conference chamber adequate to contain himself, a dozen Genoese, and one or two silent squires. They used the utmost courtesy. His contusions were bathed; the cuts swabbed and patched. He knew three of the Genoese personages; Imperiale Doria, the Treasurer Lomellini and Toma Adorno. He recognised a Spinola, a Pallaviccino. Half of them were interrelated. All of them had familiar connections – with alum, with vines or with cork. With the Genoese Bank of St George and with Chios. With Madeira and Scotland, with Bruges and even with Anjou. Small wonder the Genoese had protected him. The Republic of Genoa in the Levant operated a smooth-running machine, in which he could be quite a large wheel, or a wrecking-bar.
It was Imperiale Doria who drew his chair into the circle of his companions and began, with quiet geniality. ‘The chance to speak to you in private, Messer Niccolò, was one we thought we had lost. I can only say that I am glad it has come, but regret the circumstances that have made it possible. We do not have much time, so forgive me if I come to the point. Soon you will be fighting for Queen Carlotta in Cyprus. Zacco the Bastard holds two-thirds of that island. Naturally, the Queen fears to lose her castle and town of Kyrenia. It is, however, Famagusta, the trading harbour, the Genoese city, to which her enemy will turn his main strength and that, as you may imagine, is of concern to us.’ He paused and smiled. ‘You will forgive me a remark. You are fond, Messer Niccolò, of Venetian women?’
‘Who is not?’ Nicholas said. ‘Why do you ask?’
The commander had a heavy brown beard, and a long naked nose, cleft like a pig’s trotter. He had no look of Pagano Doria, whom Nicholas had caused to be killed. The commander said, ‘It is relevant, Messer Niccolò. You have an association with Violante of Naxos. Caterino Zeno her Venetian husband signed a short-lived alum monopoly of yours: Adorno has told me. Her two sisters are married to Venetian merchants in Cyprus. Over the alum, over your doings in Trebizond, in the matter of women it seems, Messer Niccolò, that you signally favour Venetians.’
‘I am willing,’ Nicholas said, ‘to give up Venetian women.’ He summoned a ravishing smile, and extinguished it.
‘A formidable concession,’ agreed Imperiale Doria. ‘But it is your dealings with their husbands which concern me. Dealings sweetened, no doubt, by the deep regard in which their wives hold you. As well as your army, you continue your interest in trade.’
‘Of necessity,’ Nicholas said. ‘My army has earned nothing for six months. In Italy, it would have been under contract. That, however, is my fault, not theirs.’
‘You were delayed. We heard. In fact, their expenses were met by the Treasurer and, now they are under contract, the Treasurer has orders to be more than generous. The Queen has offered you land. Once the island is conquered, you will have all the trading