Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [41]
Nicholas gave Simon’s father some thought. Presently, by careful stages, he got to his feet and stood, neck angled under the canvas. He said, ‘Well, I don’t expect to meet John of Calabria in person, and I doubt very much if a paid assassin will so much as find me in the midst of pitched battle. If you like, I’ll dress up in pink and pretend I’m a trumpeter. Which is Paltroni’s pavilion?’
Tobie let his head drop back. ‘You’re going to offer?’ he said. ‘You’re going to hire him your ship to take his army down to the Abruzzi?’
‘Some of them,’ Nicholas said. ‘He needs the remainder against Malatesta. You’ll still have some cuts and bruises to tend to.’
For some moments, neither man moved. Then Tobie said, ‘I now make you free of my notes. You may be afraid of Katelina, but in your far from simple way, you are mesmerised by the results of your philandering. You would like to meet her without Simon her husband. Katelina being the mother, after all, of your son.’
Nicholas looked down at him for a long time. At length: ‘Of Simon’s son,’ he said. ‘In your far from simple way, that is all you have to remember.’
He left. Tobie, his hand resting beside the half-empty bottle remained, his eyes open, staring up at nothing at all. Then he gave a furious sigh and, rising groggily, crossed the small, uneven space to his bed.
Chapter 7
THOMAS, DESERTED in Ghent, had had a difficult winter with the exquisite courtesan Primaflora.
The trouble was, he couldn’t shake the young lady off. Neither, because she was out of his class, could he enjoy himself. She wanted him to take her to Italy; she had friends there. She needed to hide from Carlotta of Cyprus, she said, till she found a new protector. As time went on, and she didn’t find one, Thomas began to blame the absent Master Nicholas. If Master Nicholas had agreed to serve that little termagant of a Queen, then the lady Primaflora might well have gone with him.
She was a rotten poor traveller. A snail would have whizzed past them, the rate they made their way south; then they stayed stuck in the Tyrol because she wouldn’t travel in snow. When eventually she thought the snow had shrunk enough to be safe, it was nearly spring, and he’d used half the money, and devil a friend had she found who would keep her for more than a night or two.
He got restless. He’d planned to be back with the army by spring. He picked up news, when he could, of Captain Astorre, and made sure she knew he was asking. Then, suddenly, she saw sense and got a move on, although she had no more luck in Milan, or in Florence. It was Rome and summer, finally, before he got rid of her. He didn’t know who she ended up staying with, although he heard she’d been seen with a cardinal. He believed it. The Pope had been a one for the girls in his day. Thomas crossed himself, quickly, in case the thought was notched up and spoiled his next fight. He allowed himself a week of well-deserved and thorough indulgence before setting off, in high spirits, to take the long road south and east to the Adriatic, there at last to join Captain Astorre, and Skanderbeg, and the joint Neapolitan and Albanian armies.
Astorre and Skanderbeg were at Bari, where the Captain gave Thomas a good enough welcome and took him back on the strength mainly, he said, because he wanted to know how it felt to be paid to travel for weeks with a doxy. He affected to disbelieve all Thomas told him, but listened intently to what he had to say about the Queen of Cyprus, and Silla, and Bruges. He wanted to know, too, all about the chapel at Dijon. Captain Astorre had a great respect for the late demoiselle of Charetty, even after she married Master Nicholas. But for Captain Astorre, Nicholas wouldn’t know how to sit on a horse. Thomas answered all the questions he was asked about Master Nicholas, but without enthusiasm.
Marching north with the rest to Orsara, Thomas was nevertheless glad to be beside the sewn eye, the belligerent beard of his old commander. After years of contract fighting