Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [143]
The Grand Commander lifted his elbow to thrust him aside. He said, ‘Not now.’ He stood, looking at Nicholas, surprise on his face. As he fell forward, Nicholas caught him.
Loppe, entering, closed the door while Nicholas lowered the Knight to the floor. Loppe said, ‘He has the key. Here it is.’ He knelt by the side of the unconscious man. ‘I tried not to hit him hard. Do you want him tied up?’ He looked up as Nicholas hesitated. ‘He’ll put you in chains.’
‘Not once the fighting has started. No. We’ll lock the door on him for the moment, and let him out presently. He’s an experienced man. We all need him.’ In the doorway he stopped. ‘The ships have Mameluke crews?’
Loppe said, ‘Yes. They’re not corsairs. They could be from Egypt, or Cyprus.’ His voice was quite steady. He said, ‘I saw the message was taken aboard. There is no way of telling whether it arrived or not.’
Nicholas said, ‘You did all you could. It either works or it doesn’t. Anyway, if those galleys come from Egypt or Syria, they’re out to destroy a Christian ship, and it’s nothing to do with James de Lusignan. If they’re from Cyprus, Zacco sent them. So I can’t tell you what to do, except to prepare for the worst. Can we get at the hackbuts?’
‘Not with a key; the master has it,’ said Loppe. ‘I might break in: there’s no one with time to watch now.’ The ship lurched, and spray fell with a clatter. He said, ‘They are aiming better.’
Nicholas said, ‘Yes. Free the men. If it’s Zacco, bent on destroying us, at least they can put up a fight for themselves. Get them armed if you can, but keep them below. I’ll send Astorre and talk some sense into somebody.’ He staggered, and so did Loppe.
Loppe said, ‘The cog’s guns are mounted too high. Master John has gone to see what he can do. Captain Astorre is waiting outside the door. I’m going.’
He opened the door and disappeared. After a few moments, Nicholas followed, locking the door behind him. The wind buffeted him, its twanging voice part of a cacophony. The sails were down and the oars were out and dipping, keeping the ship in its place, its guns trained. The deck shook as another gun fired. Astorre rose up before him and said something. After a moment his ears cleared, and he heard what it was.
‘Mameluke ships, there and there. Fired five times into the sea. Bigger oar power. Lower freeboard, hard to hit. Blocking the only way we could sail.’
Nicholas said, ‘Where’s Diniz?’
‘Who?’ said Astorre. ‘Oh, him. He’s with John le Grant in the bows.’ His face had turned ruddy with battle-elation. He began to laugh. ‘That woman!’
‘I’ve sent Loppe to unlock the men and break open the weapon store. Bring them up when they’re ready. I’ll see that Lomellini and the shipmaster are prepared for them. What woman?’
‘That Primaflora,’ said Astorre. ‘Got all the women into one cabin and locked it. She was the one who told Loppe where the key was.’
‘Good. Go,’ said Nicholas. He saw the two war galleys now. The seas were so big that sometimes one or other would be lost to sight for a moment, but mostly they were in view, as the cog was so high. They glittered with helmets and chain mail, shields and the crooked swords of the East, and their oarsmen worked like the slaves they certainly were. The ship to the north of them had its bows elaborately picked out in leaf gold. It was the nearer of the two. On his way to Lomellini, Nicholas swung himself up to a better vantage point and looked at it, screwing his eyes against the spray and the wind, his shirt sleeves snapping.
Lomellini’s voice said, ‘Do you want a spear in your chest? What are you doing here?’ More than ever, he looked like a soldier, about soldier’s business.
Nicholas slid down and steadied himself. He said, ‘The Grand Commander changed his mind. He freed me, and sent for my men. We need their handguns, or the galleys will come up too close.’
The Genoese gazed, his black brows lowered. His armour was dented, and not very bright, as if it had seen long and hard service.