Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [148]
He was obeyed. Officers and men unbuckled their armour and laid down their weapons. John le Grant in silence watched the guns deprived one by one of their ammunition and saw all their defences taken away. At the end, Tzani-bey came again and stood before the Grand Commander. ‘And now I wish to see your cargo, and your passengers. The Genoese will come with me. You, my lord Napoleone. And our sorry young Fleming. The mace has opened your head. Does it pain you? Soon, I will cause you to forget it.’
‘I am to come with you?’ said Nicholas. He kept to Arabic.
Tzani-bey looked surprised. ‘Of course. Don’t you have women on board? I should like to see them.’
It was Primaflora, of course, whom he wanted to see. Katelina, on her sickbed, he hardly looked at. The merchants’ women screamed when he entered the cabin: he took one by her bodice, pulled her close to examine her, and then flung her away. Primaflora he saw last of all, because she was seated behind all the rest, and hadn’t stirred. The emir pushed the others aside and stood before her.
She looked up. Nicholas saw her eyes turn to himself, and then move and rest, with supreme boredom, on the emir. She was exquisitely gowned, and had a little pillow of lace on her lap. She said, ‘Ah, the Mameluke who fingers women. May I undress for you? I should prefer not to have my gown torn.’
The smile left his face. The mace-holder stirred. Tzani-bey said, ‘No. I do not require it. I have seen the goods.’ And he passed on.
Napoleone Lomellini, pulled in his wake, dragged himself free and bowed, deeply and deliberately, to all the women. Nicholas, walking as slowly as he could, found Primaflora at his side. She said hastily, using Italian, ‘What will they do?’
‘Nothing to you, or the other passengers, or the ship. They’ll take the cargo, and me and my company,’ Nicholas said. ‘From their point of view, I was on my way to fight for the Queen.’
‘But you had no choice; you were under compulsion!’ she said. ‘Tell them! Tell them! The Usurper needs you more than the Queen does.’
‘I don’t think,’ Nicholas said, ‘that I could bring Tzani-bey to believe it. And if I did, the Order and the Genoese would never, I’m afraid, see that I stepped off this ship. You are here because of me, and I am so sorry. Go back to the Queen. She will forgive you. There will be someone courteous and wealthy waiting somewhere to be made happy.’
He smiled at her, even as they were roughly separated and he was hustled back to his place by the emir. Looking round once, he saw her standing still in the doorway to the women’s chamber. Her face looked austere, and even frightened.
No one else urged him to save himself by crossing to Zacco. If they thought it likely he could, neither the Order nor the Genoese would let him or his company get to Salines alive, as he had told Primaflora. On the other hand, their execution would be quick, compared with anything Tzani-bey had in mind. He began to think as he walked. Salines. How could he extricate himself and the others at Salines? Or would the emir keep them at Salines? An audience, he had said. A public audience for what was to happen. Well, they would see.
The tour ended. Lomellini was removed, and Nicholas had time to wonder why the Genoese had been forced to be present and not, for example, the Grand Commander. But Zacco and the Order at Kolossi had some kind of working association, while the Genoese at Famagusta were Zacco’s implacable enemies. The emir would enjoy displaying his power to Lomellini. Perhaps he would allow himself to go further. Lomellini doubtless suspected as much. He showed no fear, however, on parting from Nicholas but, again, gave his punctilious bow. ‘Famagusta would have been the better for your assistance. I regret what has happened. I shall report, in my turn, how you bore yourself.’
‘I hope you have a chance to do so, Ser Napoleone,’ Nicholas said. Then he, in his turn, was taken off.
And now, at least he was among friends, for they