Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [162]
‘It is to be regretted,’ Nicholas said. ‘It is my duty and perhaps even yours to make sure that they cannot forget it.’
There was a silence he did not like. Then, ‘Go on. If you think it wise,’ Zacco said.
Nicholas spoke carefully. ‘If I want an engine, my lord, first I design it, and then I fashion the tools for its making. You are training men without knowing what you will need them for. You don’t need to bind them first. They will follow you anyway, and if you give them a goal, they will stay with you.’
‘For what I can give them?’ said Zacco.
‘For what you are,’ Nicholas said. ‘Why doubt it now?’
‘You tell me,’ said Zacco.
Nicholas made a small pause. ‘My lord, kingdoms can be lost by men vying for favour. It is better to make the goal plain. Those who achieve it deserve the best following.’
Zacco made a slow movement. The hand holding the vellum rose and released the map flat on his knee. Where he had gripped it were imprints like claw-marks. He said, ‘Do we speak of the King, or of some woman with suitors?’
Nicholas said, ‘We speak, my lord, of brave men who are inspired, and how best to use them.’ He watched, and then said, ‘If my lord would allow. I was brought here for a purpose, and I would fulfil it. Now is the time to make plans. A single meeting would do, provided your men come prepared. I have a list of questions for each of your officers. I should like them to bring you their answers. With what that will tell us, the campaign could be designed now for the spring. By next year, my lord could be King of all Cyprus.’
There was another silence. Then Zacco said, ‘Where are the questions?’
They were in the satchel he wore. Condensed, the text still ran to several pages, spaced for clarity and penned in the model hand he had taken from Colard. He gave them to Zacco who, looking down, half raised a finger. It gave him leave to sit, which he did. He relaxed, with some trouble. Zacco read them.
It had taken two weeks to guess some of the reasons for Zacco’s delay. Vanity, lust, instability – a Lusignan who was Cropnose’s son would have defects of that order, and had. But Zacco often channelled his impulses. There was a legitimate need to bind men of uncertain allegiance. Zacco must pander as well to his faction – the Egyptian army, which preferred looting to fighting; the native Cypriots who called themselves White Venetians and didn’t want their lands ruined. And the Venetian merchants themselves, who represented the future wealth of the island, and wished to prosecute their daily business without inconvenience. If he wanted the Grand Turk kept from Cyprus, Zacco had to please and placate the Venetians.
In a military sense, the problems were clear, and even straightforward. Zacco held all but two centres. He had to dislodge the Queen’s men from Kyrenia, built between the sea and the mountains, and attained by a single pass barred by a fortress. And he had to drive the Genoese from Famagusta, the viscounty and port on which Kyrenia drew. In each enclave was an enemy castle, strongly protected by sea and defended by land.
These two castles might fall to a great fleet, a great army, to ruse or to cannon. Failing these, a blockade might reduce them. Now, beginning the season, it was a matter of weighing the chances, and choosing. In such things, one made no assumptions. One calculated. One dwelled, most particularly, on the heavily guarded pass that led to Kyrenia, and the fort of St Hilarion that defended it. And in the end one looked not to Kyrenia at all, but to the key of the land, which was Famagusta.
The King, he already knew, preferred action to scholarship. To read the papers cost time, during which Nicholas waited. At the end, Zacco looked up. He said, ‘You think you know the answers. You have made up your mind.’
Nicholas said, ‘No. I know what has gone wrong before. I don’t know what can be done to correct it.’
‘How do you know?’ Zacco said.
‘From the Genoese,’ Nicholas said. ‘They talked about it on Rhodes.