Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [66]
‘He killed his father’s chamberlain?’ Nicholas said.
‘For plotting against him. He wasn’t the only one who tried to bring him down, but Zacco always fought to defend himself, as was no more than right. A wild lot, the Lusignans, but they needed to be. And they married wild women, too. Queen Helena was a Byzantine lady from the Morea, and the lady Marietta’s another Greek from Patras. Old King Peter, now, had a harem of mistresses, and his Queen tried to stop one of them carrying. Held her down, fixed a big marble slab on her belly, and pounded a measure of salt on it. Next, they ground flour on her, working a handmill. But she gave the King a live child just the same. That’s the stuff Zacco comes from. You were lucky to keep your left arm. What did they do to it?’
‘I don’t remember,’ said Nicholas. ‘How did the new clothes appear?’
‘The Venetians,’ said Jorgin. ‘My lord sent to the Venetians and they brought clothes that would fit. They’ve got a fine house. You will like it.… Why is Monseigneur laughing?’
‘Because there is nothing else left for Monseigneur to do,’ Nicholas said.
The young Usurper of Cyprus, who had nearly not been born, received him that evening on the first floor, in an apartment which Nicholas took to be his private chamber. Apart from the large curtained bed, it was not lavishly furnished, and could have seated few guests apart from the swarthy man already ensconced there. Nicholas saw a cast of face he had found among the Sicilians of King Ferrante’s army: lean and bold of feature, and alarming sometimes in its intensity of expression. This man could not be much over thirty but he was scarred like a fighter, and his dark eyes, watching Nicholas under the drapes of his chaperon, were unfriendly and searching. He looked like a mercenary, but one who had risen to hold office as well as a sword. Nicholas thought it interesting that, of all his court, the King had brought such a man to hear their first conversation. Nicholas bowed, and turned to look for his host.
The King had seated himself on a ledge by the window, which was glazed. Outside, Nicholas could see a balcony, and a glimpse of gardens that ran down to the river that formed a wide moat. James de Lusignan, changed into a pale brocade doublet, was fingering the cord of his shirt and gazing across the flat roofs and towers of the city as if deep in thought. In repose, he showed none of the volatile temperament of the Queen his half-sister. His father’s height, which she had missed, was carried with the strong, disciplined grace of a hunter, and he had his father’s long-boned, regular features. A tapping foot; an alertness about the eyes were all that might recall a brotherly likeness. His mother was not in the room. Nicholas said, ‘You sent for me, my lord.’
The young man turned his head quickly. He rose, and stepping down from the window, stood before Nicholas and examined him seriously. Then he said, ‘Good. You look better. You and I are to talk, but I have brought a knight of mine here to reassure you. The lord Rizzo di Marino leads my armies from time to time and advises me, on the field and at home. The advice I hear most often is that I must win the friendship of a genius called Niccolò, who performed miracles in Trebizond, who has made his company famous, who desires adventure and is esteemed by his friends and who suffers from the loss of a greatly-loved wife. Sit and tell me. This is so?’
Nicholas sat. ‘My suffering at the moment is of a different order,’ he said. ‘Suppose we first talk about that.’
‘It is my intention to do so,’ the young man said. He resumed his seat at the window, studying one swinging foot. When he looked up, his face and voice were both sober. ‘We are of an age, you and I, or near enough to make no matter. You have been brought to Cyprus without your consent. In Bologna, you refused to join Carlotta