Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [147]
‘We shall treat them with honour,’ said the voice from the galley. It translated, no doubt, the exact words of the emir. It didn’t translate, Nicholas observed, the mockery behind the pronouncement. For Zacco’s reprimands, for his subsequent restraint towards Nicholas, Tzani-bey was now about to claim restitution.
It was the end of the dialogue. On the other ship, the emir walked to the rail, where the galley’s boat was swung out and lowered. On the round ship of the Order, Louis de Magnac turned to Nicholas. ‘I could have you hanged from the yardarm, and no officer of the Order would blame me. The death you now face is, I fear, not undeserved. I cannot say I regret that the Queen will not have to trust her interests to one such as you.’
‘I am sorry, too,’ Nicholas said. He spoke formally, and controlled his own anger. ‘I hoped to have your understanding. As soldiers going to fight for Queen Carlotta, my company was at greater risk than anyone else here on board, and it was their right to be free to defend themselves. If we alone are now to die because of our allegiance, I cannot see our end as either deserved or dishonourable. But that is for others to judge. Now the ship is yours, as we are. I will do whatever you wish.’
‘What can prisoners do, pray?’ said the Grand Commander. ‘Except display the courage of soldiers placed under duress. Mine will stand on deck, and wait for the heathen. If you wish, you may place yours beside them. The ladies and the lay passengers should remain below, where they are.’
‘You don’t mean to offer defiance?’ said Nicholas.
Beneath the silver hair, the handsome face paled, then flushed. The Grand Commander said, ‘It would provide a quicker death, I have no doubt, for you and your men, but a piteous one for innocent passengers. They will not burn to save you from torture.’
Nicholas said, ‘My thought was different. The emir, too, might think that burning was too easy a death. If you turned your guns on him, he might prevaricate. But of course, it is a risk.’
‘It would be the act of a madman,’ said Louis de Magnac. And, Nicholas supposed, he was right.
In silence, they took their positions. The seamen stood in their ranks, and the ship’s soldiers behind them, and his own behind those. In front waited the Grand Commander, and the captain of Famagusta, and the Rhodian shipmaster, his face impassive. Beside them stood Nicholas and the four officers of his troop. The enemy skiff laboured over the water and they could see the emir plainly, his cloak wrapped about him in the prow. He was looking upwards, at Nicholas. Nicholas, unmoving, stared back. The boat arrived, and the emir started up the companionway. Diniz Vasquez said, ‘Is that the man who whipped you before you came to Kolossi?’
Nicholas turned. ‘Go below! What are you doing here?’
‘Is it?’ said the boy.
‘Yes. Go below. Diniz, stay with the others.’
There was colour in the boy’s face. He said, ‘But you are to be punished for not joining Zacco. So you are the Queen’s man. They all doubted you.’
‘The Grand Commander still doubts me,’ said Nicholas. ‘Diniz, you are not safe up here.’
‘Why?’ said a voice, speaking in Arabic. ‘A spent catamite of yours would hardly excite me. Although he is pretty. Has he African ways?’
The emir had climbed the steps and stood on deck before them all. His smile was broad, the black moustache spreading, the dark eyes liquid. Nicholas said, ‘Excuse him. He has only two legs.’
The emir’s face hardly changed. It was the man behind him who stepped forward and swung his powerful mace. Although Nicholas flung his arm up, it brought him down to one knee. He rose, and replaced his innocuous smile. His hand, at his side, gripped Astorre’s arm. Thomas growled. The emir stood, his head on one side. Then he said, ‘Perhaps that is sufficient, for the moment. For serious intercourse, I prefer a wider audience, and land underfoot. Which is the fool who commands?