Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [261]
Ludovico da Bologna said, ‘Don’t be afraid to speak out: Abul Ismail knows all about Mamelukes. Yes, I know Khushcadam. Yes, I’ve been in Cairo. Murder and poison, torture, bribes, sales of office. Terrorising and plunder, all by Mamelukes, and all countenanced by the Sultan because he’s afraid of ’em. They depend for business on Copts, but Prester John’s poor little Ethiopes are not even permitted to roll eggs at Easter. You can thank your Creator that vander Poele here has done something about it.’
There was a momentary vacuum, as all the air in the room was sucked in. Then Markios said, ‘Vander Poele has done what?’
Seen in profile, Nicholas had not so much changed colour as quietly congealed. He stirred. ‘The Patriarch is pleased that my sugar-master comes from Damascus. I have men, and buy equipment from Syrian moderates.’
‘And I don’t suppose,’ Father Ludovico remarked, ‘that you had to pay all that much for them either. The prince Uzum Hasan would be glad to make up their salaries.’
‘Uzum Hasan!’ said the King’s uncle.
‘Vander Poele was in treaty with him in Trebizond. Uzum Hasan, head of the Turcoman tribe of the White Sheep; the strongest sect in all Persia; the biggest rival to Constantinople. It was touch and go – wasn’t it, heh? – whether the White Sheep would beat the Turks into Trebizond. The way it turned out was the way young Niccolò wanted it. I am right?’
Fair play, to John le Grant, was fair play. He said judicially, ‘I expect that’s what you heard; but no, you’ve got it wrong, Patriarch. We fought the Turks, and the Turks frightened off Uzum Hasan, and the surrender was the Emperor’s choice. Or rather …’ He stopped, his voice fading out; and on reflection stayed stopped. The damage was done. Everyone could see where that trail was leading.
Except Tobie. Tobie said, ‘Well, of course: the responsibility for the surrender lay with that traitorous scoundrel Amiroutzes. If you want the facts about Trebizond, Nicholas here will be happy to tell you. In any case, it wasn’t Uzum Hasan that we dealt with, it was his mother. Sara, the prince’s Syrian …’ At that point, his tone faltered as well. With fascination, John watched the thoughts enter his mind. The mother of Uzum Hasan was a Syrian. And the wife of Uzum Hasan was mother’s sister to Violante, Fiorenza and Valenza of Naxos.
The circumstance of the surrender of Trebizond was not what was being discussed.
Tobie resumed with sudden asperity. ‘We had no call to be in touch with Uzum Hasan after that. Or his mother. I suppose Nicholas needed sugar equipment. That would be common enough. Supplies passing between Kouklia and Damascus in Syria.’ He had turned rather pale.
It seemed to John le Grant that having gone so far, this thought, at least, must be completed. He said, ‘It would be common enough, but that isn’t what the Patriarch was implying. Nicholas, did you inspire the letter from Uzum’s wife to the Emperor? The one that Amiroutzes betrayed to the Sultan? I don’t think I could blame you, but Tobie would be happy if you could say no.’
‘Then of course,’ Nicholas said, ‘I say no.’
‘Quite right,’ said Ludovico da Bologna. ‘Anyone who knows George Amiroutzes knows who the real devil is. The head of a philosopher on the loins of a tomcat. Fell in love with the Duke of Athens’ sweet little widow, and tried to get rid of the Patriarch of Constantinople when he wouldn’t let him divorce his first wife. The Greek Patriarch, that is. He should try the Latin Patriarch next: that’s Bessarion, godfather to one of his sons. Or perhaps not. The other son’s converted to Mohammed and they say George is going the same way. Et Filioque with a vengeance. And talking of children, Carlotta’s lost the heir to her kingdom. Would you care for some water?’
Nicholas said, ‘No, thank you. A son?’ There was no chance, now, of reading his face. He had schooled it so well that it received the implications of that entire passage of information