Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [329]
A feeling of incipient ecstasy overcame Nicholas. He looked at the King, and found the King was looking at him, and enjoying it. Nicholas turned. The exquisite person called David said, ‘I am most distressed. I believed the news had been broken. It is M. Zorzi, is it not? Of course, the royal dyeworks appeared to be in the King’s gift. But unfortunately –’
‘Unfortunately?’ said Bartolomeo Zorzi. He looked at Jacopo his brother and back again, like a flag changing face in a wind.
‘Unfortunately, the King had incurred a large debt. It could not be paid. We were forced to demand it. The only way he could give satisfaction was by leasing to us all the rights in the dyeworks, and a proper basis for their future expenses. The revenues, that is, of the villages of Pactona and Lectora, and five thousand besants on the customs of Nicosia. I regret,’ said the broker quite charmingly. Within their wonderful lashes, the frigid eyes displayed no trace of contrition.
Bartolomeo Zorzi said, ‘Who do you work for?’
‘Nemesis, I imagine,’ Nicholas said. ‘And in future, keep out of my way, as well as his. Tell your older brother.’
Zorzi’s eyes remained, frowning, on the face of the stranger. So, too, did the hostile gaze of the other Venetians. Like himself, of course, the Corner had suffered from the footprint of this unknown and ominous company. Perhaps also the Knights of St John. Nicholas hesitated. He said, ‘Forgive me, my lord King. You mentioned borrowing. Have you signed an agreement with M. de Salmeton?’
It was never wise to do this to Zacco. He couldn’t think of another quick way to do it. The King said, ‘It was necessary. You were in Famagusta.’
‘Of course. Perhaps another time, we might be of service. Might I know,’ Nicholas said, ‘what was put forward as security for this and other loans? Apart from the dyeworks?’
The King said, ‘Are you afraid for your sugar? It is safe. It is all safe. You’ve forgotten. I have ransoms for twelve wealthy prisoners, including the vicomte de Ribérac.’
‘The ransoms have come?’ Nicholas said. He saw, without looking, that he had received a glance from the dark eyes.
The King said, ‘How could they, so quickly? But they will. I have sent for de Ribérac.’
A pang of amusement went through Nicholas. He said, ‘He will be delighted. He takes a profound interest in the Vatachino.’ He took thought, and added, ‘Anyway, he thought the ransom too high.’ Again, the quick look. This time he returned it. A door opened.
He turned, and so did the extraordinary black changeling at his side. The towering bulk of de Ribérac failed to enter the room. A clerk from the Secrète stood on the threshold instead, and made his way forward, skirts swishing. Between the flaps of his cap he was pale.
‘Well?’ said Zacco softly. He had sobered.
‘My lord King,’ said the clerk. ‘M. de Ribérac is not in his room. We have made enquiries. We have asked at the gates. We have met messengers on their way from the south. My lord King, M. de Ribérac has escaped.’
‘Without paying his ransom?’ said the angel.
‘He left nothing,’ said the clerk.
‘How?’ said the King. He lifted his fist and crashed it down on the lectern. The inkwell jumped to the floor, split and emptied. Quietly, the young man called David lifted the plan out of harm’s way and held it, folded neatly, at his side.
‘He had help. From one of Messer Niccolò’s men,’ said the clerk.
It was, of course, one of the possibilities. It was the only possibility. Nicholas said, ‘I know nothing of this. Tell me who?’ But he knew. He should have guessed. He should have prepared for it.
The clerk said, ‘Your sailing-master, Messer Crackbene, Ser Niccolò. He contrived to take the vicomte through the gates and found mounts for him. They left last night and were in Salines by morning. They have sailed.’
‘By what means?’ Nicholas said.
The clerk turned to him. His knuckles were white. ‘Messer Crackbene took him on the Doria.