Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [53]
Lying helpless, he realised why, from the commotion. They had invited the Bailie on board. His name was Bembo, and Nicholas had met his cousin in Venice. Another of the same name had married a girl from the house of Corner, one of whose former palazzi had been presented to Nicholas by a grateful Republic. He still owned it, he supposed, and Gregorio his lawyer should be presiding there, conducting the Bank of Niccolò without Niccolò. The family Bembo, in other words, could begin a campaign which, with any luck, would bring the Signory of Venice to his rescue. It was unfortunate, therefore, that Nicholas was locked in the Doria, and the Bailie’s voice, in time, receded; and there came the clank of the anchor chain coming up, and the first tug of the oars, and then all the running about to get the sails ready. And then Modon was behind them.
There was only one other chance, and it turned out to be no chance at all. After they had paid their call at Crete, another ship hailed them. Nicholas was on deck at the time, and watched its coming with attention. From its size, it was a carrier, one of the biggest he had seen, and it came from the east, which meant it was returning from Alexandria, or Cyprus, or Rhodes. Then, as it came nearer, a trumpet call came over the water, and it ran up its flag.
The emblem was the eight-pointed Cross of the Knights Hospitaller of Rhodes. It was all he saw before an angry voice spoke somewhere behind him, and he was hustled below. Later, the man who came to unlock him was smiling. ‘Gave them a fright, didn’t it, those bastards in the big cabin? Stands to reason, if a ship’s called Doria, it’ll attract every friend of the Genoese on the ocean. Especially if their commander’s called Doria as well.’
Nicholas said, ‘I thought it was a ship of the Order from Rhodes.’
‘It was,’ said the man. ‘Knights of St John, effing bastards. Sail all the time, getting supplies for that prime bitch Carlotta. Sir Imperiale Doria it was, on that ship. Brings the Queen cattle and grain, and hocks her silver when she calls for more money. Wanted to come aboard and tell us what the Turks are doing on Lesbos. I can imagine what they’re doing on Lesbos, and we’re not going to help stop them, I can tell you. Your rich friend in the cabin had to tell him we were infectious before my lord of Doria would go.’
‘Who is the rich man in the cabin?’ said Nicholas.
The man tittered again. ‘They don’t tell you, do they? Well, I’m not going to risk a whipping and let on. What’s it to you, with free food and drink for the asking? Whenever, that is, you’ve breath to spare from laying the woman.’ He backed and said, ‘None of that. Digi!’
By the time Digi flung open the door, Nicholas had recovered. The men left. He flung himself down on a chest, and a moment later the door was unlocked again and Primaflora rejoined him. She said, ‘What was the shouting?’
‘Nothing. I made a threatening gesture,’ Nicholas said. ‘Stupid of me.’ He was still breathing quickly. And aware, in his anger, that she was here again, and the afternoon would be spent as it was always spent, in exquisite instruction.
Well, not today. When he got up and walked over, he did not even undress her. He ignored, as if he had never learned them, all the delicacies; the devices to postpone, to heighten, wonderfully to protract, and simply made straight, as if time were short, for what he wanted. And she, extinguishing self, met him with feverish greed as