Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [149]
‘This is just a test,’ Nicholas said. ‘They give us two days to learn the Koran, Loppe gets made a muezzin and they set us up with a harem apiece. Is there anything to eat?’ It was not bravado. Danger made him feel hungry.
‘Not yet,’ said Astorre. ‘Well, let’s put our heads together. You told Zacco you’d serve him or nobody. Zacco said if you brought us to fight for the Queen, he would make sure that he stopped you and killed us. You thought that he mightn’t. It seems that he will.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Nicholas.
‘You suppose, man? He’s intercepted us and the Queen’s men all right. He’s sent the Mamelukes to fire their damned guns at us. He’s sent this emir, who’s not your greatest admirer. And we’ve had threats and abuse and manhandling in private as well as in public. So all in all, we have to reach one conclusion. King Zacco is out for our blood. Yours and everybody’s. Am I right?’
‘I think you are,’ Tobie said. ‘I’m not complaining. Or not more than usual. We knew the risks, and it was the only way to leave Rhodes. So what now? How long do we have here at sea?’
He was speaking quite loudly, against the thud and creak of the vessel, because this was something that all their men ought to hear. When about to wring Tobie’s neck, Nicholas always had to remember what a good doctor he was. Now Nicholas said, ‘A day. Not more than two. The harbour’s down in the south. After that, it depends whether the emir or Zacco wants to finish us off. The emir, as you see, is longing to indulge himself.’
‘A nasty piece. I’ve fought against plenty like him,’ said Captain Astorre. ‘You too, eh, Master John? Now, why don’t we break out and take the Mamelukes hostage? Or if we can’t, the Commander might think of it.’
‘I hope he doesn’t,’ Nicholas said. ‘The emir will have gone back to his own ship by now, and I’m sure he meant what he said. If we make a false move, the men in those two galleys will burn us down to the water, no matter who is on board. The emir’s soldiers go straight to Paradise, and the Celestial Court will also receive the captain of Famagusta and a number of Carlotta’s favourite officers, to King Zacco’s great sorrow.’
‘So we just walk ashore to our fate?’ Tobie said. ‘And the rest? The boy? They think he’s yours. That won’t save him.’
‘It depends,’ Nicholas said, ‘what you want to save him from. I wonder what Simon would say? Death before dishonour?’
‘I suppose he would,’ Tobie said, ‘if he got the chance. Myself, I’m considerably drawn to dishonour.’
‘You’re thirty-two years old,’ Nicholas said. ‘Senile, bald, and you talk too much. You’re past dishonour. Consider survival as an alternative. We land at Salines, and three possible things will then happen. Let’s discuss them.’
He could feel the rustle of hope. He tried to feel hopeful himself.
It was only a game. It was only a case of thinking out the next move. Of thinking what you might do if you hated anyone as much as Tzani-bey hated Niccolò vander Poele. And, of course, vice versa.
Chapter 22
TWENTY-FOUR hours later the company of Nicholas arrived, still with their skins whole, at the harbour of Salines in Cyprus. On the way, they had been given food but no light, and had spent the latter part of the journey for the most part in sleep. The Mamelukes who herded them up into the stormy, dazzling daylight carried maces, and would answer no questions. There was no sign of the women, or the merchants. On the other hand, there was no sign either of distress or confusion. The Rhodian shipmaster, still under guard at the poop, looked relieved at the sight of Nicholas, and made a slight sign which seemed to convey