Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [220]
‘As difficult as you meant it to be, I suppose,’ she said. ‘You know Simon. You met Tristão. Lucia is frightened of her own shadow. Which would you choose to kill, if you wanted to weaken a business?’
His eyes lifted. He said, ‘I’m in Rhodes, among other things, to find out who did kill Tristão. If someone tries to spoil my business, I don’t mind retaliating. But not in that way. And if I’d known it would happen, there are some things I would have done differently. As it is, the best asset Simon could have is yourself. You’re free. Go home quickly. Go home and take Tristão’s place.’
She gazed at him. He spoke as if nothing lay between them; with the earnestness of a brother giving advice. He had left Zacco in Cyprus to come where he would be killed in a moment if recognised. And he had come here, where she was, as if he had nothing to fear. As if he thought she believed all those protestations made on his sickbed in Nicosia just before Zacco came and bent over him. Zacco, who had sent her to Episkopi from which it had proved so simple to escape. Zacco, who had disliked, perhaps, the fact that Nicholas had paid Diniz’s ransom. Zacco, who had got rid of Primaflora …
Katelina said, ‘Why did you come to Rhodes?’
And he said, as if in direct response to her thoughts, ‘Primaflora is here.’
It was too pat. She recognised, now, that all Primaflora had told her in the merchants’ basilica had been false. Primaflora had abandoned the Queen to escape to Cyprus with Nicholas, and but for Zacco’s jealousy they would be together in Cyprus now. But Katelina knew, if anyone did, that Nicholas was not the slave of a courtesan. She heard again the murmur of the cauldrons, and saw the steam, and saw the wife of Marco Corner move into his arms. Katelina said, ‘But you have been taught to love men.’
He had been about to say something else, and stopped short. Then he said, ‘James of Lusignan?’
‘And David of Trebizond,’ said Katelina. ‘I saw your men’s faces, when they heard the news of his capture. You make use of women, that’s all. At Kouklia, you wanted to show Marco Corner who was master. You continued to prove yourself master in ways he would never even know. You made him a victim, like Simon. If Fiorenza has a child, I suppose it will pass as Corner’s?’
Outside in the courtyard the cicadas hissed in the broken shade of the colonnades, and the olives and date palms stood still in the heat. Nicholas drew a short breath. He said, ‘You’re not as unworldly as that, Katelina. The princesses of Naxos play games, and the games require partners. And I doubt if it’s your concern, but I am not the King’s lover.’
He was angry. She looked at him bemused, because he was not only angry, but had failed to conceal it. She said stubbornly, ‘But he wishes you to be.’
He had begun to recover. In one cheek a dent appeared, of exasperation, perhaps, or self-mockery. He said, ‘Perhaps. But his mother doesn’t. You were not sent to Episkopi in the hope that you would escape. Don’t you know it yet? I was supposed to take advantage of you, not Fiorenza of Naxos, at Kouklia.’
She gazed at him, feeling sick, her eyes filmed. He moved impulsively and she flinched. He said, standing still, ‘You’re unwell. It’s the heat, I’m sorry. I’ll go. I just wanted to be sure you were safe, and the boy. And to tell you to go home as soon as you can. You’ve nothing to fear from me, Katelina. Nothing. Nothing.’ And, perhaps feeling that his words had been too intense, he smiled suddenly and said, ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t water plants until evening. Didn’t they tell you?’
She remembered that comforting smile. Claes. Claikine, Marian his wife used to call him, before she became his wife; when she was just his employer. Around the smile, his face glittered with drops from the screws of his hair. The garment he wore, swung by the movement, offered a glimpse of a scratched and sun-coloured forearm, shaped and rounded by labour, the hairs on it bleached like boar-bristles. The young and powerful arms, and the hands, and the broad shoulders. Her mind emptied, until