Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [316]
Nicholas said, ‘The demoiselle would have been free by the autumn. It was arranged with the King. Serenissima, do you wish to hear more? All these matters are finished with.’
‘Certainly they are finished with,’ said the vicomte de Ribérac, removing a hair from his lapel. He clasped his ringed hands. ‘So is Katelina van Borselen, my son’s wife. How strange, that she ends in Famagusta as Diniz did. How strange that you find your way there. How inevitable that when Famagusta is freed, she is dead. Of course, your acolyte here will say you didn’t kill her.’
The King’s mother said, ‘Acolyte, M. de Ribérac? We have just heard how he attacked his supposed abductor with an axe and fled to a town under siege to escape him. If Ser Niccolò caused the young lady’s death, then surely you can rely on your abused grandson to tell us?’
‘Ah,’ said the fat man. ‘But they are not enemies now. They are now seducer and victim. Does it not tell you something, how their eyes meet? How they stand together, bonded against opposition? Against the boy’s own family? Our friend Claes suggested a moment ago that the boy should not be forced to choose. But he has chosen. It is apparent. Let us ask him. Diniz, have you taken any steps to get away from this island since receiving your freedom?’
‘No,’ said Diniz.
‘And are you coming home?’ said Jordan de Ribérac.
Diniz said, ‘Ser Niccolò has urged me to go back to Portugal. I should prefer to stay here.’
There was a short silence, during which the fat man sank a little back in his chair. The woman said, ‘You have made your peace with each other?’
Nicholas said, ‘In Famagusta, madame, there is no room today for petty matters. He is my good friend and I am his. No more, but that certainly.’
‘You said,’ said the woman, ‘that you did not kill or cause to be killed Tristão Diniz?’
‘No, honoured lady,’ said Nicholas.
‘But you have no proof. You maintain that you did nothing to hasten the death of Katelina van Borselen?’
‘No, lady,’ said Nicholas.
It was not true. Because of him, Diniz had gone to Famagusta and Katelina had joined him. Aphrodite. He heard, after a moment, the voice of Diniz in passionate affirmation. A wave of dizziness swept over him, leaving him cold but collected again. Diniz spoke still. He saw the fat man’s eyes on his grandson, hooded and motionless in the overfed face. The last time he saw Diniz, his grandson must have been lithe and brown and burnished with vigour, as when Nicholas had met him first at Kolossi. Yet for the hollow-faced youth now before him, with the deep-set eyes and the thin arms and the low and passionate voice the vicomte showed no feeling of pride, or of pity or of shame. No, not shame. He could not believe, no man could believe what he had said of Diniz.
Something of the same thought must have struck Diniz, but not for himself. He looked across at his grandfather and said, ‘You knew Katelina. You knew her in Bruges, surely, and in Anjou. You saw her in Brittany. My father said she helped you escape the old King. Don’t you even want to know where she is buried?’
And the fat man stirred and said, ‘A moody child of no great intellect but with a certain aptness of build. No. Her place of committal doesn’t interest me. I should judge that she made sure it was as remote as was practicable from any haunt of her reviled servant Claes.’
Diniz opened his mouth, and there was no way Nicholas could think of to stop him. Then he closed it again, without speaking. For a moment, thinking about that, Nicholas lost the thread of what was happening again. Then he saw that the King’s mother was also looking at Jordan de Ribérac. She said, ‘Well? Are these all the complaints you wished to make? I have heard them. It seems to me that they have little bearing on the conduct of this kingdom, and that in the absence of proof, it is unlikely that you will quickly satisfy yourself before the time, I hope soon, when your ransom will be paid and you will be permitted to leave for home. The boy, of course, may leave or stay