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By Root 2993 0

a distinct absence of the play of simple expressions that usually took place there. He looked tired, which he didn’t usually do. He looked – which Tobie in particular didn’t care for – uncommonly like the way he had looked more than two years before at a place called Skylolimne; and later at another place called Kerasous. Tobie looked at John, and their eyes met. Astorre, wiping peach juice from his beard, threw down his napkin and said, ‘Well, you took your time. We might have got this contract finished, but for your God-damned Feast Day. What were you thinking of?’

‘I wanted a good meal,’ said Nicholas.

Primaflora appeared in the doorway behind him and by instinct, it seemed, he knew it and turned round. Or perhaps, thought Tobie, her scent had something to do with it. She said, without touching him, ‘Talk to them. Then find me when you are ready.’ Her face was smiling and apparently calm, unless you looked below the painted line of her brows. What it reflected of her husband’s face, Tobie couldn’t see.

Then Nicholas said, ‘No. Please join us. And Loppe. I suppose I have to go to the King.’

‘He can wait,’ Primaflora said; and crossing the room, held the great chair by the brazier until Nicholas walked over and dropped into it. Then, restraining Loppe with a light hand, she fetched wine and a platter for Nicholas, and poured for them all before she sat down herself.

Nicholas said, ‘The Feast Day wasn’t my idea. I want it over as quickly as possible.’

‘There is Mass tomorrow,’ said Primaflora. ‘Then a great feast at the Palace. All the Haute Cour will be there. The King has invited every great nobleman, every high officer of the church and the Knights of the Order from Kolossi. The Venetians, the merchants will be present, and even Sor de Naves and the abbot of Bellapaïs from Kyrenia. Only the Mamelukes will be absent. You couldn’t leave in less than two days. It is a mark of the King’s personal love and regard.’

Astorre snorted. ‘He’s bored.’

‘I told you,’ Nicholas said, ‘to entertain him while I was away. Do your tricks. Turn somersaults and climb up the underside of a ladder with your armour on. Well, it’s too late now, so let’s make the best of it. I have something I want the King to agree to. There might be a better chance now than most times.’

‘You want to leave?’ said John le Grant. It was the first time he had spoken. Very often John le Grant disconcerted Tobie. With Julius, he had always felt more comfortable.

Nicholas said briefly, ‘Something else.’

Captain Astorre had been paying small attention. He said, ‘And anyway, what did Pesaro want at Sigouri? He said he’d sent for you.’

‘He was concerned,’ Nicholas said. ‘He says the whole army is unsettled because it’s known that Famagusta will never give up while it expects a relieving ship to arrive. He says that if the King persists in staying away, there will be mutiny if not now, then when the weather gets wetter and colder. No army expects to keep the field through the winter.’

John le Grant said, ‘And so what’s his suggestion?’

‘It’s mine,’ Nicholas said. ‘It’s what I want to put to Zacco. This is December, when truces are common. I want Zacco to invite four leading citizens from Famagusta to share the Feast of the Nativity with him, and to allow food and wine to be sent into the city between then and Epiphany. And during that time, I want those four Genoese to see for themselves, beyond all possible doubt, that there is no question of rescue arriving. Then, I hope and believe, they will surrender.’

‘Amid casks of wine and barrels of cheeses?’ said Astorre, scowling.

‘The food would stop on the sixth day of January. I don’t think,’ Nicholas said, ‘that anyone in Famagusta will have the strength of purpose left to starve to death after that.’

Tobie said nothing nor, after a glance, did John le Grant. It was Primaflora who said, ‘Forgive me. This is not women’s business. But will starvation not bring surrender without the King being asked to make such concessions? They must be suffering now.’

And Nicholas looked at her with his childish, bovine-eyed