Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [306]
‘No!’ Zacco said. ‘With such cuts? With such loss of blood? Take your ease. And when your mind seeks occupation, go to Sigouri. Call your men there. Acquaint yourself with the castle, its lands, the sugar fields all about it. Nicosia is merely a depot. But what has to be done here? The harbour cleared, the ships raised, the warehouses rebuilt, the villas cleansed and made habitable. The mills and conduits are damaged. The yards are wrecked that used to produce soap and oil, dyes and wine. The food stores are polluted and empty; the quays weed-covered and useless. The workers, the merchants have to be induced to come back. The city needs horses, camels, oxen, goats and cows to be milked; poultry to lay. Its defences must be restored. Where are the records of its customs? How many of its craftsmen have died – the smiths, the coopers, the workers in textiles and metal; the artisans of the arsenal? Where are the women and children, the elders that were sent from the city and must now be brought back? Have you thought of that, Niccolò?’
‘Someone must think of it,’ Nicholas said. ‘But I accepted a contract to fight, and to bring the sugar reeds into profit, and foster the dyeworks. You have other hands for the rest.’
The King rose. ‘That contract is ended. I offer you a better one. Should I not? I owe you my kingdom, my life, my wellbeing. Think of it. Take it.’
‘And the Mamelukes?’ rejoined Nicholas, quickly.
The King gave a disarming smile. ‘You prepared the way, my sweet Nikko. The Sultan Khushcadam in Cairo will appear shocked, but will be quickly appeased. Our Archbishop is no naïve ambassador: he has performed this task before, and successfully. With our abundant regrets, he will take glorious presents.’ Zacco shot him a sudden radiant glance. ‘Nikko? You could go with him.’
Stumbling, alone, about Egypt. Nicholas quelled a snort of feverish laughter and said, ‘You are kind, my lord. But I wish, at present, to go back to Nicosia. In a marriage, such decisions belong to both husband and wife.’
He watched the King go, and the Archbishop, pausing to bless him. He rehearsed in his mind all that he wanted to say next time in private to Zacco, and then found that he had rehearsed in his sleep, and it was the following day. He said to the first friar who came near him, ‘Where is the King lodging now?’
And the friar, soothing him, said, ‘The King has gone to Nicosia, my lord. The others are about to depart also. They stayed, latterly, in the Palace.’
He got to the Palace, finally, using a stick, and eluding his nurses. Zacco had gone, and the horses were waiting for Rizzo di Marino. Nicholas had himself announced to his room.
The Chancellor said, ‘I should have come, but the friars tattle. Sit. The King says he has asked you to stay?’
Nicholas sat, and propped his underlip with the knob of his stick. He said, removing it, ‘You led the action, I’m told, against the Mamelukes?’
‘That is true,’ said Rizzo di Marino. ‘The emir’s absence was, of course, a prime necessity. The King has told you, I am sure, of our gratitude.’
‘He endorsed the killing?’ Nicholas said.
‘My dear Ser Niccolò, he knew nothing of it. Like yourself, he expected the Egyptians to enter Famagusta. I do not mind shouldering blame. It seemed to me,’ said the chamberlain, ‘that it was better to prevent such an event than to risk the King’s life.’
‘I am sure the King’s uncle agreed,’ Nicholas said. ‘It is sad, however, that Tzani-bey discovered not merely that we had been warned, but who had warned us. Just as it was useful, one might say, that Tzani-bey learned of the negotiations with Uzum Hasan that led him to plan the revolt. Very few knew of that.’
The Sicilian gazed at him. ‘Let me ask you. Do you regret Tzani-bey’s death? No. Does the disposal of a pack of leaderless