Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [325]
‘You’re talking about standing armies,’ said John le Grant. ‘Tell that to the burghers of Bruges, and see what they say.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Nicholas said.
‘A White Company?’ Tobie said. ‘A really big mercenary troop that can virtually win wars on its own? Have you thought what that means?’
‘He hasn’t thought about anything,’ said John le Grant. ‘Except that after that bitch Primaflora he doesn’t want to take orders from a Lusignan any more, and that means he must find his own money if he wants to move in circles of power. Am I right?’
He was insolent. He was wrong. Whether or not Nicholas wished to work with and under Zacco, the link had been severed, and would never now be restored. Or not in a way that would serve any purpose. Rizzo di Marino, Sor de Naves, William Goneme would guide Zacco into the future and, although his business might well stay and flourish, he would have a passing friendship at best, and not the deep-dyed and constant companionship that was the way to the King’s heart and mind. Nicholas said, ‘If you keep talking, I’ll probably believe you. We’re too close to events. We don’t know yet what Zacco will do. We don’t know what Jordan de Ribérac may threaten him with. We have to set our own ideas in order. We’ll meet and talk it over again. But think of this. We should consider Gregorio. When we can, we should gather in Venice.’
‘And visit your island. You had barillo sent there. What,’ said Tobie with sudden irritation, ‘what in God’s name do you make with barillo?’
‘Ask Alessandra Macinghi negli Strozzi and her sons,’ remarked Loppe. ‘Master Nicholas? You knew the King wished to see you? He has sent a precise command. You have an audience with him at noon.’
Once, he saw the King whenever he pleased. Once, he was married to Primaflora. ‘I shall be there,’ Nicholas said.
Chapter 47
NICHOLAS RODE from his villa on Chennaa, who was in love with him again, and walked alone into Zacco’s Palace to greet the servants he knew, and be led to the royal apartments, which were full of light and sunshine and noise and eager faces. He remembered most of them from days of celebration rather than days of fighting: some were new to him. It was strange, still, to see clean, well-fed bodies with springing hair and fresh clothes and no smell anywhere but the usual kind, and a good deal of scent.
He was here to receive the intimation that his marriage was to be set aside whether he wished it or not, and his wife Primaflora installed as what she already was: the permanent mistress of James, King of Cyprus. He recognised without joy that of those before him, a number must know why he was here, and he wondered if the boy Diniz had been told, in whatever retreat he had found; and if the news had made him feel better, or worse. The boy was so young and had so little, unless you counted a slow-growing trust in himself, tarnished now by de Ribérac’s calumny. Diniz had wanted to stay in his company. Now, Nicholas could not imagine what the boy felt, except that he must somehow need help. As soon as he could, he would find him.
Meanwhile, here was rejoicing. Circumspectly triumphant, of course, the Venetians. Paul Erizzo, the Venetian Bailie. The Martini brothers. The bulky presence of the great Marco Corner and his skilful colleague Giovanni Loredano, whose beautiful wives had returned to their Venetian palaces. The Venetians had brought him to Cyprus to please James of Lusignan and for their own profit, and as a result of it, Carlotta and Genoa had been defeated, the Mamelukes disposed of, and James and the Venetians remained. In return for his services