Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [36]
‘If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t let you stay for a day. You can stay. Don’t get in the way. See my officers and get yourself a tent and provisions. We march in four hours. You needn’t expect to leave until both the march and the battle are over. For all I know, you may be an enemy agent. Venice wants Malatesta to win.’
‘My Bank doesn’t,’ said Nicholas smiling. He didn’t know whether it did or not, or if he had a bank. He didn’t care, he was so pleased to be here. He took his leave from the tent without even finding out where he was marching. Urbino had assumed it was immaterial.
In fact, it was back north, the way he had travelled. Tobie, whose tent was still upright, sent for him; poured him some wine in an accusing manner and then allowed him to sit, as if they were speaking to one another. Tobie said angrily, ‘I suppose you know what is happening? The Pope’s dearest enemy, Malatesta of Rimini, has been bribed into the war by Piccinino. He’s in the north now, collecting troops with John of Calabria’s money. Little condottieri from the Romagna; a large number of French-loving Genoese bastards turfed out of their city. Rumour says they’re all mustered and about to march down to the Abruzzi.’
‘And Urbino goes north to intercept them?’ Nicholas said. ‘You’ve got a better line in wine than you could ever afford in my day.’
‘I get paid more,’ said Tobie. ‘Malatesta is sitting outside Sinigallia, on the coast between here and Urbino. He’s scared, and pretending to negotiate. The Count’s plan is to force-march north, beginning this evening, to be within bowshot by first light on Wednesday.’
‘Thirty-odd miles? The Turks could do it in half –’
‘So what’s the attraction?’ said Tobie. ‘You enjoyed fighting the Turks, and want more of it? Or are you passing, taper in hand, reactivating all your favourite fireworks? How is the Charetty business?’
‘I thought I would buy my way into a fight,’ Nicholas said. ‘No other interests. No ulterior motives. If no one else wants me, I’ll ask Piccinino.’
Tobie stared at him. Then he said, ‘I almost believed you, you bastard.’
‘Never,’ Nicholas said. He sat on Tobie’s campaign chest and tried not to look hungry.
Tobie swore and, getting up, sent a man for some food. He came back and threw himself on the ground beside the box with his cup on it. He said, ‘Nothing hasty about you, at any rate. You’ve taken ten months to decide this. Astorre knows, I suppose?’
‘I forgot to ask him,’ said Nicholas. ‘What’s Skanderbeg like?’
Tobie put down his cup. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t get mixed up in that.’
‘In what?’ said Nicholas. The food came, and he took what he was offered, his large eyes mild.
‘You know what. Albanian heroics. Father and saviour. George Castriot, captured by Turks as a child and escaped to fight against Turkey for his native land of Albania. The new Alexander, and hence nicknamed Skanderbeg, since Levantines make shibboleths of their exes. Sailed his army across the Adriatic to help the Pope and Ferrante in the Abruzzi. You’ll join him,’ said Tobie grimly. ‘I know you. You’ll look for a father-figure, and join him.’
There was a brief silence. Nicholas smiled. ‘I have a father-figure,’ he said.
Tobie’s sun-pinkened face grew ruddier. He said, ‘I didn’t mean that. But since we’ve mentioned it, where is friend Simon?’
‘In Portugal,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Katelina is in Anjou; unless she has already joined John of Calabria’s army. Do you think they will guess where I’m hiding?’
Tobie was still uncomfortable. ‘They know you’re crazy,’ he said. ‘But not so mad as to come here again. At least they won’t think of looking for you in Sinigallia.’
‘I thought I’d be safe in Sinigallia,’ Nicholas said.
‘You’d be safer there than down south,’ Tobie said. ‘Why go south? Your ship’s in Ancona.’
Nicholas laid down his meat. Then he picked up his cup. ‘Which ship?’ he said.
‘The round ship. The Doria. Crackbene got rid of the alum to a freight vessel at Porto Pisana, then got a job sailing here with some wheat. He’s been refitting. You could go to Ancona