Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [219]
In the shed where the plants were it was stifling, despite the open windows and the awning the Genoese squires had helped her put up. The trays would have been better deep in the palace, but Imperiale Doria was away, and the other brethren cared more for Kolossi than for saving the vineyards and sugarcane fields of other Knights in the colonial west. Without her, the duty of watering would have been little attended to.
Today, someone for once had forestalled her. The rich smell of soaked earth and warm steaming leaves pressed upon her as she stepped into shade, and when she lifted the casting-bottle, her thumb over the top, she saw it was damp still, but empty. A voice said, ‘I’ve given them all they need. Don’t be afraid, Katelina. I want to speak to you, nothing more.’
She didn’t need to strain her sun-dazzled eyes to put a name to the speaker. After a moment she saw him, or his fuzzed mess of damp hair, and the peeled-open whites of his eyes, and his broad, accommodating shoulders draped today in anonymous black. He stood against the farthest wall of the shed, beyond the trestles of green, and barred by them from the door. The clay of the bottle cracked between her two hands. He said, ‘Watch. You’ll break it. How can I harm you? You’ve only to call, and I’m dead.’
First, the shock of finding Nicholas, here. Then the shock when she saw the truth of his words. She said, ‘Then I’ll call.’ Her heart thudded.
He said, ‘Give me five minutes first. I had no need to leave Cyprus. I had no need to come here.’
She said, ‘Five minutes, why? Diniz is safe. He’s on his way home. I’m going home, too.’
‘Is he safe?’ Nicholas said. ‘Are you sure?’
A wash of fright, anger, nausea, swept over her. She said, ‘Do you think I’d leave Cyprus before I was sure? I heard he had gone. The man who helped him sent a message. They found him a ship going west.’
‘Who?’ said Nicholas.
She said, ‘Is that why you came? To find out?’
‘To find out if he was safe, that was all. He should have stayed. So should you. I would have seen that you got home, Katelina,’ he said. He drew a breath and didn’t use it.
She said, ‘You were going to say, Wherever home is?’
‘No,’ he said sharply. After a moment he said, ‘I was going to say, Unless you were anxious to wait for Simon. Didn’t you know he was planning to come for you?’
She laughed. ‘I don’t believe it.’ Then she said, ‘Or no, I do. He found out we were captured because of you. Is that why you want to make sure you’ve got rid of us?’
He was collected again. ‘You’ve guessed it,’ he said. ‘And by the time your husband could arrive on Cyprus, the Genoese will be the King’s prisoners and it might be difficult to get you both away. Or all of you, if Diniz had stayed.’
The plants dripped: the air was thick as pulped mash. She laid down the bottle and leaned her hands on it. ‘You really think the Genoese will surrender? You should talk to Imperiale Doria. He has ships. He has money. The Dominican friars gave the Queen all their plate and Piozasque pledged it to Doria for silver.’
‘Did he?’ said Nicholas. ‘The rumour I heard was that Doria himself was having to borrow.’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But he has security, and he uses reliable bankers. A firm who are ready with money enough, when it suits them.’
The bitterness must have showed. ‘But not for St Pol & Vasquez?’ said Nicholas slowly. ‘Are the bankers called Vatachino?’
Despite the heat, her terror lessened. She said, ‘Ah! You, too!’
‘I knew that would please you,’ said Nicholas. He ran his fingers over the plants, his eyes following them. ‘Is Simon in trouble, Katelina? The death of Tristão, how difficult