Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [327]
The swinging foot stopped. ‘You have been told?’
‘By Primaflora,’ Nicholas said.
The King looked down at his hands. He said, ‘Of course, it is not the custom, in a man seeking office, to marry a courtesan. You did not realise, perhaps, how this could harm your future.’
Nicholas heard him without surprise and without rancour. He had no intention of embarking on the real facts about Primaflora. The King was at present besotted. Whoever spoiled this particular idyll would become, on the instant, his enemy. Instead, Nicholas spoke in what he hoped was his usual voice. ‘As perhaps she has told you, it was a marriage born of expediency. She wished to leave Rhodes.’
The hazel eyes rose, and the King’s hand went to his lip. ‘She told me. She was unkind to you. I am sorry. But she has known men of exceptional ardour and one cannot blame her, perhaps, for a little impatience. But you found consolation. Or perhaps didn’t require it?’ The King smiled and, leaning forward, laid his hand on that of Nicholas. ‘Sometimes I envy you that aloof mind and phlegmatic body. You will never burn in the fire of your passions.’
‘I am aware of my good fortune,’ said Nicholas.
The King slapped his hand and withdrew. He was smiling. He said, ‘But you are not. I have offered you land, position, revenues, houses. I would give you something more. I lease your round ship, and one day she will be restored to you. When that day comes, I shall give you another. For all your company did, you will have the Adorno. She is damaged. When repaired, she will enter my service. But the returns for her use will be yours, and when her duty is over, you will have her. Are you pleased?’
‘My lord,’ Nicholas said. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’ He was pleased, in the places where he wasn’t searingly angry.
The King planted both feet on the ground. ‘But there will be other things. What else can I do?’
Nicholas hesitated. He said, ‘I have an enemy here.’
The King, it seemed, had talked with Marietta his mother. He said, ‘The Frenchman? I heard. I shall do what I can. Of course, it is difficult. The King of France has the wealth that might save Cyprus one day from the Turks, and the Frenchman, I understand, is his adviser. He has asked to see me.’
‘He has no complaint against me that cannot be answered,’ Nicholas said. ‘He will invent if he has to. I am concerned over the boy Diniz Vasquez, his grandson.’
‘Are you? They tell me he caused that,’ Zacco said. He nodded, indicating where the axe fell. ‘They tell me that the man Zorzi urged him to kill you outright, and then got rid of the boy when he didn’t. Do you believe that?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘I think Diniz was truthful. The Venetians missed the bountiful hand of the Lusignan, and resented my tenure of the dyeworks. They have it again, I understand. I have no complaint. A land needs money and help, and must go where such offers.’
The young man in the window was smiling. ‘To the point, always. But one chooses the source of the money, the help. Tell me now. When the boy injured you, you protected him. You protected him again in Famagusta. Why? I offered to punish him.’
‘He was young. He mistook me. Mercy is not a bad thing. And Famagusta punished him more severely than you could,’ Nicholas said. He watched the King’s face, and saw there for an instant the look he had seen when the Lusignan rode into that destroyed and desolate city. It passed. The King slipped from his seat and said, ‘Famagusta. You must see the plans. I will remember the boy, and see that he chooses whether or not to go with his grandfather. We shall talk again when you have made your choice of other things. Leave the robe. I shall have it sent to you. Come. Come and meet David.’
The hall rang with voices and laughter when the King’s attendant