Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [288]
That Diniz Vasquez was also in Famagusta was not common knowledge, although le Grant had told Astorre, Loppe and Tobie. Specifically, neither the King nor the court had been informed. Tobie, back in the villa and cascading with loud, screaming sneezes, had proposed marching at once to the dyeworks and shaking Bartolomeo Zorzi by the hand: le Grant dissuaded him. ‘No. The boy did well at Famagusta, and Zorzi had no right to do what he did. Nicholas wants us to let it alone. He’ll have it out himself with the Venetians.’
‘And when will that be?’ Tobie had asked. ‘After he’s had an axe sunk in the opposite shoulder? What can he do for anyone in that graveyard of a city except catch their rot and pass it on to us in the long run? If he’d talked hard enough, they’d have exchanged him.’
John le Grant had said nothing. He had seen some of the men of Famagusta. He had been appalled, as had the rest of the court, at the emaciation of the four ambassadors sent them by the city, but he had not been surprised. He was not surprised, either, when all of them took to their beds within a day of arriving at the Palace.
He hung about the Palace a good deal himself, as he was entitled to do, being the King’s only contact with Astorre’s army. He called on the Latin Patriarch of Antioch and had a brief, one-sided exchange. Occasionally he saw Primaflora who, from serving Carlotta, had turned her training to attendance on the King’s mother. On their first encounter, she had drawn him abruptly into her chamber and asked him to tell her about Nicholas. He had told her the story, and reassured her as far as he was able.
After that, she didn’t seek him out, having no doubt more direct news from Zacco. In Loppe’s care, the villa ran smoothly without her. After a week, Loppe handed the task back to Galiot, mentioning that business required him in Kouklia. Tobie had been inclined to object, but le Grant helped him pack and assemble his travelling party.
Loppe had had least to say about the incarceration of Nicholas. His journey, John assumed, was either because of genuine business, or because he found it trying to wait in the capital. It irked John himself, the easy carousing of the long, sprawling festival, the noisy pastimes of the court, the King’s sudden tempers. He wondered how Loppe would know if Nicholas was sent back before Epiphany, or if there were news of a worse kind. Then he realised that Kouklia was in daily touch with Salines, and Salines, unobtrusively, with Nicosia. He wondered, again, who or what Loppe was eluding.
Then the ambassadors found their feet, and were to be seen at table, and occasionally with the King’s special officers. Returning to the villa one day, John le Grant said, ‘Something’s happening. The Bailie of the Secrète has been with them twice, and Podocataro, the lawyer.’ The next day, he said, ‘There’s rumour of some sort of pact. If the King lifts the siege, I’ll mine his privy.’
‘We could go home,’ Tobie said. ‘He’ll have broken the contract.’
‘I’ll leave you to tell him,’ said the engineer.
Then the terms became known, and the day the treaty was sworn, they retired to the villa and drank all night to celebrate. Surrender in fourteen days, unless a ship got in. And Nicholas had been sent for. The King regarded his penance as over.
Next day, as silently as he had gone, Loppe returned. The day after that, Tobie was commanded to the Palace and returning, seized Loppe by the arm and marched him into the workroom John le Grant had devised for himself, where he scowled at them both. ‘All right. Did either of you know