Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [37]
‘I oughtn’t to have said that,’ Nicholas said. ‘But it was so true. Whereas, left to myself, I found out what I like best. The sensation of fighting.’
‘The sensation of killing?’ said Tobie.
Nicholas thought. ‘The sensation of living through danger. Does that agree with your findings?’
‘I’m not making notes on you,’ Tobie said. ‘I’m leaving that to the gravediggers. I have to go. We march in four hours, and I expect to be busy.’
‘I assumed you would be,’ said Nicholas.
Chapter 6
CONTRARY TO HIS wholly cynical expectations, Tobie saw nothing of Nicholas during the next day and a half of hard travelling. It was true that Tobie himself was much occupied: the army had been in the field for half a season, and he had some walking wounded and sick on his hands. Nicholas also had the best of excuses: his skills were those of a pioneer and a gunner, and it was among such men that he spent all his time. Occasionally the Count of Urbino would move back and take part in the intense arguments that broke out from time to time in that area of his army where the engineers were to be found. Afterwards he would ride, a frown between his uneven brows, staring at some scrawl of a diagram on a piece of paper smelling of horse.
It made Tobie suspicious. All the time he had known him, Nicholas had needed a friend. Now he had shed even Loppe. He had shed, too, the boyish camaraderie of the dyeyard, the tavern, or even the galley. Changing files; infiltrating among all the sections of Urbino’s army, Nicholas kept the companionable style of his company days. But it was different: as if he had had no occasion to use it for a very long time; and as if, now, he employed it for different reasons. And not only employed it, but experimented with it.
The prohibition ended on Wednesday at dawn, when the army came within reach of Sinigallia, and crossing the lukewarm Nevola, sat down in sight of Malatesta’s well-entrenched camp. Then Nicholas went and found Tobie, who was tramping back from his duties with his leather apron over his shirt. In a mask of pink dust, his small mouth was clean, as were the pads of his nostrils where he’d wiped them, and a slat on either cheek where his cap-lappets had been. He said, ‘So. You’ve got a corn on your arse?’
‘I walked some of the way,’ Nicholas said. ‘The rumour is that Malatesta outnumbers us by five to two, and that the town of Sinigallia has surrendered to him.’
‘Then why isn’t he occupying it?’ Tobie said.
‘Because he’s getting ready to charge us, I expect,’ Nicholas said. ‘He’s fresh and we aren’t. We stand to arms, and rest by rotation.’
‘Give me a girl and I’ll try it,’ said Tobie. ‘You’re really going to fight? Pull your sword out and charge, intoning Urbino?’
‘I’m working out what to shout,’ Nicholas said. ‘Don’t hit me, we’ve got a terrible doctor? If Malatesta attacks, you’ll have your sword out, none quicker. I don’t think he’ll attack. If he’s really busy with fire-raising, slaughter, rape, adultery, incest, parricide, sacrilege, treason and heresy, he simply won’t have the energy.’
‘He was excommunicated last year,’ Tobie said. ‘Retaliated by filling a church font with ink. He’s been fighting Urbino, man and boy, for twenty-three years.’
Nicholas flung down his gloves. ‘I’ve joined an episode in the Corinthian wars. I thought this was a free-standing battle.’
‘They might kill each other this time,’ Tobie said, ‘but I shouldn’t count on it. It’s all about property. And the Pope, of course, really doesn’t want Malatesta marching down to join Piccinino. I wonder what Astorre’s doing now. He’ll wish he hadn’t sent Thomas to Bruges. What happened to Thomas?’
‘I wish I knew,’ Nicholas said, quite as if he meant it.
They waited all day, in what shade they could find, but the enemy made no move that could be discerned. Tobie said, ‘They’re crazy. They should have charged as soon as we arrived.’
‘They’ll attack by night,’ said the Count’s secretary.