Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [152]
‘Not far. To a Lusignan castle at Kiti. The King is there. Don’t be afraid,’ Nicholas said. He tried to make his voice light and comforting.
She flushed. She said, ‘Afraid! The King won’t trouble a courtesan. At worst, he’ll use me as a means of taunting his sister. But you! What will you do? Whatever you say, Lomellini and de Magnac will swear you meant to fight for Carlotta. They will give you no chance to change to Zacco’s side. You must escape.’
‘And my men?’ Nicholas said. They had begun moving. He could see the emir turn his head and begin to ride over.
She said, ‘It is you I am thinking of.’ Then, after a moment, ‘Would they kill them? You think they would. And of course, you wouldn’t leave them.’
Nicholas said, ‘None of us can leave. Whoever escapes, the rest would be punished.’
‘And so?’ she said. The emir had arrived, and had taken her reins.
‘I don’t know,’ Nicholas said. He had no chance to console her, even if he could have thought of something to say. The emir led her away, and he rode in silence to his meeting with Zacco.
By the second hour of their incarceration, Tobie had been five times to the latrine and even Astorre, most doughty of captives, had taken to pacing their prison; a room small enough for six persons.
Their arrival at the palace of Kiti had taken place after dark. Even Nicholas, Tobie and John, the first to dismount, had seen little more than a plank bridge, a small courtyard, and a dark building of several storeys. The ground was deep in mud, leading Tobie to observe that Noah’s great-grandson, after whom the place had been named, might have been advised to bring the Ark with him. Diniz Vasquez, the fourth to arrive, had seen nothing at all, being still bound to his horse, and half-conscious. Diniz shared their small prison. Where Primaflora had been taken, or the Grand Commander or the Genoese, they had no means of knowing.
By the time their hundred soldiers arrived, the moon had risen behind racing clouds. The news that the men were here, housed and settled was brought by Astorre and Thomas when they in turn were marched into their chamber. By then, Diniz was awake, pale and frowning, but restored enough to put up a fight when armed men burst through the door and herded them off, without speech, to a bath-house.
It seemed curious, as Tobie said, that the Bastard required them to meet their God purified. Being men of war, they made nothing, as Diniz did, of being stripped and thrown into hot water. When they emerged, they were given clean drawers, nothing else. Then they were returned to their prison, which had once been a place to house valuables, possessing barred windows and doors, but nothing of comfort except a brazier. John le Grant said, ‘Of course, if Nicholas could talk, he could tell us what to expect of this Zacco.’
Nicholas, whose normal high spirits could elate a platoon marching over a cliff-top, had been perplexingly dumb since Salines. On the journey, speech had been discouraged. Since, he had sat, hugging his knees and keeping his own rigid counsel. The situation failed to please Diniz, the ache in whose head was compounded by feelings of fear and inadequacy. He stopped pacing the floor and went to stand, his arms folded, over Nicholas. He said, ‘She was sick, and you did nothing to save her! You took your own woman and left her!’
Nicholas said, ‘You did all you could. Your aunt couldn’t have travelled. They have no use for her, Diniz. They’ll let her go. The monks will see to that.’
‘Who feeds the monks and defends them?’ the young Portuguese said.
‘The Lord God of St Lazarus,’ Nicholas said. ‘Or so I should like to think. For the rest, you will have to rely on me. As well as I can, I shall protect her.’
‘As you protected my father,’ said Diniz.
‘With you, I succeeded,’ said Nicholas. ‘Let me say one thing only. I have met the King before. When he summons us, let me speak. When I finish, say whatever you please, if you’re not satisfied.’
Diniz said, ‘Why should