Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [164]
‘So do I,’ said James of Lusignan slowly. ‘So do I. So tell me why you attack me. You resent that I sent the woman away? She was a spy.’ The club hung from his grasp, and he was frowning.
Nicholas said, ‘I doubt that. But spy or not, she was under my eye and yours, and in my bed, damn it all. What good is the Borselen woman?’
The young man above him slowly stepped to one side. He said, ‘None. Do what you like with her.’ He sat down, equally slowly, on the floor, with the mace across his knees, and examined Nicholas. Their eyes locked. After a long time, the King said, as a boy would, ‘Have you ever attended a siege? It is tedious.’
‘For the men. Once it’s in place,’ Nicholas said, ‘it needs only regular supervision. Astorre doesn’t mind being bored. I could get the structures in place. John le Grant could arrange the munitions and sapping before he goes south.’
‘South?’ said the young man. He drew a hand down his own cheek, following the flounce of his hair, and lifting the swathe at his neck with one finger. The finger rested, the heavy hair turning beneath it.
‘To Kouklia and Akhelia to join me. You did say,’ Nicholas said, ‘that I should have the sugar franchise? I hear the second crop is next month, and May is the time for the crushing. By then the siege will be in position, and there will be nothing to do but supervise it. Tzani-bey surely won’t find that too tedious.’
Zacco stared at him, thumb and finger caressing an elflock. He had opened the delicate band, worked in black, that collared his shirt, and the shirt itself was partly unbuttoned, the fine pleated fabric stained and torn from their struggle. In the right calf of his hose, a pale fissure was also apparent. The silence grew. Nicholas did nothing to break it. Zacco lowered his hand. He picked up the mace in two palms and sat, weighing it. He said, ‘I don’t mind greedy men. They fight well. I do, however, insist that they fight first. I did not buy a one-eyed man with a beard. I bought you.’
Nicholas met his stare, without moving. He said, ‘My lord shall have value for money. First the meeting. Then the preparations for the campaign. Then the opening moves. I shall be here for all that.’
‘And if I say,’ Zacco said, ‘that you do not go south until the summer fighting is over?’
‘My lord, you are King. You may say anything. You will be obeyed. Only,’ Nicholas said, ‘how will my lord King fund his war if the royal sugar crop fails?’
‘Why should it?’ said Zacco.
‘I have a premonition,’ Nicholas said. ‘War has already caused damage. Men who have worked for Venetians might prefer to move to Venetian estates. The previous holders might not take kindly to a stranger owning the franchise. Even the Knights at Kolossi have a grudge to pay off. I should be there.’
Zacco said, ‘If a war needs no leader, why not appoint an Astorre to grind sugar?’
‘But I shall,’ Nicholas said. ‘In due time. When I can promise you profit.’
Zacco smiled. He said, ‘You speak as if it were for you to say. Shall I overlook it?’
‘You have bought my mind. It pursues its labours for you, and brings you its conclusions. You have no need to accept them if, when equally primed, you are of a different opinion.’ He did not return the smile, which was not genuine.
Zacco lifted the club, hefted it and, his eyes on Nicholas, hurled it hard through the door of the tent. There was a scream and a crash. Zacco said, ‘You plan to take St Hilarion. I could read it in your mind.’
‘It should be taken,’ Nicholas said.
‘An inaccessible peak, on a pass held by the enemy? Well, take it,’ said Zacco. ‘When I have it, you can go to your sugar crop.’ And to the Saracen who came in, his cheek torn and bleeding, the King said, ‘And did you hear all you wished? Bring meat, and sweetmeats and wine, and wake the boy with the flute. I am hungry.’
Chapter 24
AMONTH LATER, in the full explosion of spring, Nicholas attacked the precipice fort of St Hilarion. Through meadows of orange and scarlet and yellow, between the shrieking greens of fresh leaves and