Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [167]
There was also a smell of calendula. Remembering, Tobie put up his hand and removed the field marigold he had tucked over his ear. When he twirled it, his cuirass gleamed orange. He said, ‘According to the good lord, you plan to leave for Kouklia if you manage to take St Hilarion.’
‘That’s right,’ said Nicholas. ‘I’m going to be seventy-five miles away. News will take decades to travel between us.’
‘He said he hired us to fight, but if you’re longing to trade, he won’t stop you. I’m not complaining,’ said Tobie.
‘But you’re not coming with me,’ said Nicholas. The tone was one of confirmation. He added, ‘I suppose Thomas wants to stay, too. I don’t know how I’ll manage.’
Tobie’s face became heated. He said, ‘Will the sugarcane bite you? I’m needed by soldiers.’
‘I suppose you are,’ Nicholas said. ‘And if not, who am I to compete with the Arabs? Anyway, you’ve got it both ways, haven’t you? If we fail, I stay on. If we succeed, you can stay and rewrite the pharmacopoeia with whatsisname. Abul Ismail. I’d go and eat with Astorre, except that I can’t manage more than eight courses. Am I being unreasonable?’
‘Yes,’ said Tobie, relieved.
‘I’m sorry,’ Nicholas said. ‘The truth is, I need to get away soon.’
‘Why?’ said Tobie. He then flushed.
‘My God,’ said Nicholas, with dawning amazement. He took the marigold from Tobie’s fingers. ‘Do I have to tell you? I do. I have to call on our mutual friend Katelina. And if you want to know why, it’s remedial. When I get all excited like this, I need a furious woman. Who were you intending this for?’
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ said Tobie thoughtfully. He took the marigold back. ‘Where are Katelina and the boy? I thought the ransom money had come?’
‘So did I,’ Nicholas said. ‘She ought to be on her way back to her husband. She isn’t. Someone is stopping her.’
‘Maybe she insists on remaining,’ said Tobie, squinting carefully at his flower. ‘But they ought to send the boy home, wherever he is.’
‘I thought everyone knew,’ Nicholas said. ‘He’s an apprentice in the dyeyard. And working hard, too. He doesn’t get out till I say so.’
‘You’re joking,’ said Tobie.
‘I expect so,’ Nicholas said. ‘There was another rumour today. The Sultan is preparing for war against Venice.’
Tobie said, ‘I heard that last week. If it’s true, you’ll get all the supplies that you’ve sent for. But I suppose you were counting on that.’
‘I trust,’ Nicholas said, ‘that I’ll get everything that I sent for. I think I shall. I feel lucky. I feel you may even change your mind in the long run, and join me in Kouklia. We have, of course, to capture St Hilarion first, in which event you will be sent a pint of nut oil and a cake. If we don’t take it, you’ve nothing to worry about. Zacco won’t let me go; and Astorre and I will have wrung your neck anyway. I feel better.’
‘Good,’ said Tobie in resigned tones. They hid a low satisfaction. One of the things he liked best about Nicholas were his cowardly moments.
That afternoon, the trumpets blew for assembly, the camp proclamation was read, and after a segregated and somewhat uncomfortable blessing the army of James of Lusignan moved to the mouth of the Pass of St Catherine and turned into the steep and stony gut of the hills that were commanded by the fort of St Hilarion. They entered it like a river of quicksilver. The air was barred with their lances, and the spired and visored helms of the cavalry made a tumbling pattern, fore and aft. They beat drums as they went, and the banners flew in shivering streams, while shreds of orchid and iris, scabious, anchusa, cyclamen sprang from their feet, so that the company smelled like a whorehouse. Then the landscape of abrupt hills adjusted itself and ahead on their right stood the crag they were making for, with St Hilarion crowning its summit.
Once, this place,