Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [35]
‘I suspect so,’ said Tobie. ‘I suspect he might be going to get a lot of money, and maybe a useful small army. Shall I find out?’
‘You do that,’ said the secretary. ‘I’ll warn the Count.’ He peered, with interest, at the distant man. ‘I thought he was somewhat younger.’
‘So did I,’ Tobie said. He left Paltroni, and walked off to Nicholas. To vander Poele. He thought of him as vander Poele.
Nicholas said, ‘You’ve warned him not to see me on any account. Are we still speaking to one another?’
‘I’ll do it in sign language if you like,’ Tobie said. ‘It was your company. You had a right to break it up. What do you want here?’
‘To make an investment,’ Nicholas said. ‘I suppose the Count can do with some help.’
Tobie scowled. ‘So you’ve had a slow look round us all, and it’s Astorre you’re going to amuse yourself with. Why not leave him alone? Why not go back to Venice and give Gregorio some reward for his trouble? It was Gregorio who set up the Bank for you, and got kicked in the teeth for his efforts.’
Nicholas thought, his lips in the kissing position. ‘You don’t think the Count of Urbino needs money and troops?’
‘I’d be a fool to say that. You’ll be in his tent in a trice, with your heels smoking.’
‘But you don’t want me to re-enrol Astorre.’
‘It depends on your reasons,’ said Tobie. ‘Here’s Paltroni to call you. I told you. You have a buyer.’
It was the Count’s secretary, to call him to his tent. Nicholas half turned to the doctor. ‘Shall I see you?’
Tobie opened his marble-blue eyes. ‘If you stay, how shall we avoid it?’
He stood, shaken by an absent-minded volley of sneezes, and watched Nicholas go.
The interview with Urbino took place in a crowded tent, where the Count himself occupied the only stool, before a table littered with papers. The Count said, ‘Ah. Niccolò the merchant. Have you come to buy or to sell?’
Nicholas looked down at the notched beak of a nose and remained thoughtful. ‘To invest, my lord. I had a fancy to buy in Captain Astorre’s contract, if he would let me, and develop the company to the benefit of the league against Anjou. I thought, before I went south to join him, that I might help you in passing. I have some skill with devices.’
‘Trebizond,’ said Federigo of Urbino. ‘You’re the man who got the Venetians out of Trebizond. With Astorre. And that fiend of an engineer.’
‘John le Grant,’ Nicholas said. ‘He’s in Venice. You have heard of us?’
‘Well, get him out of Venice. And any other experts you have. Of course I’ve heard of you. I’ve got your doctor here, Beventini. You’re not getting him back.’
‘I don’t imagine he wants to come back. Or John le Grant,’ Nicholas said. ‘I simply thought –’
‘You’ve given up merchanting?’ Urbino said. ‘Or starting a new sideline in wars?’
‘I simply thought,’ Nicholas said, ‘of turning Astorre’s troops into a much larger, better-armed company with some knowledge of cannon and hand guns and some first-rate engineers. I might be able to train some of your men. Mechanics interest me.’
Urbino’s single eye was positively luminous. ‘And what do you want of me then?’ he said.
‘A little experience, before I go south. As I said, you might find a use for devices.’
‘If,’ Urbino said, ‘you can contrive to blow up Sigismondo Malatesta at a range of thirty-five miles, you can replace me as commander. I can give you experience, but not in artillery of which I at present have none. I am about to launch an action. I am not, however, prepared to lose my best engineers to another force.’
‘My lord, you are too modest,’ said Nicholas. ‘No