Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [67]
‘Willingly,’ Nicholas said. ‘When you have given me back two months of my life, and Tzani-bey’s head in a pig trough.’
The young man Zacco said, ‘Our mothers think we are young and careless, and we do not disabuse them. If I were the child I might seem, I could never have kept friends like Rizzo, or have conquered three-quarters of Cyprus. To do more, I needed your help. I did not want to antagonise you. If I could have had you brought in any other way, I should have done. So far as money and honours can help, those you have. There is a fief in this country which is already paying its rents to your Bank in Venice. As for Tzani-bey, I will not deny it. I sent him to bring you. But do you think, do you imagine I would have him half kill you? That was none of my doing.’
‘Then he disobeyed you?’ Nicholas said. The Sicilian stirred.
‘What he did, he did without orders,’ said the young man.
‘And how do you punish him?’ Nicholas said. ‘For if he disobeys in the field, more than a captive, one supposes, will suffer. Your own power of authority, even, might be questioned.’
There was silence. Zacco said, ‘Of course. How would you punish him?’
Nicholas drew a long breath. He said, ‘Every army has its own rules. In mine, he would be publicly flogged and turned off, and his superior degraded for failing to check disobedience.’
‘But you would ask his superior first if he had good reason?’ said Zacco.
‘If I were not the victim, I might do so,’ Nicholas said.
The swinging foot in the window had stopped. The young man Zacco held the edge of his seat and considered, the Sicilian knight silently watching him. He returned his gaze to Nicholas. He said, ‘You speak of army customs. But what you were offered was physical abuse and dishonour. Man to man, what does he merit?’
‘From me? Death,’ said Nicholas. ‘In fair fight, which he did not give me.’
A profound silence fell on the room. The Sicilian said nothing, his eyes on his leader. The young man by the window did not move, but Nicholas felt the weight of his eyes, and knew he was being studied and weighed, like the most precious of merchandise. Zacco said, ‘From me, too.’
Then, for the first time, the swarthy man spoke. ‘My lord King. You can’t do it.’
‘I thought not,’ said Nicholas.
A slam answered him, as Zacco stamped to his feet. ‘You are wrong, and I can.’
Nicholas said, ‘How many men has he?’
The man called Rizzo di Marino said, ‘Here, a hundred cavalry and a hundred fantassin. In Egypt, an army that could sweep us all into the sea.’
Nicholas said, ‘So why doesn’t it do it?’
The Sicilian looked at the King. The King said, ‘The Sultan Khushcadam is not secure on his throne among the Mamelukes. He has powerful Muslim neighbours – in Persia, the Turcoman prince Uzum Hasan; in Constantinople, the Sultan Mehmet, lord of the Ottoman Turks. Khushcadam parades his friendship for them, but in fact is afraid of them both. Cyprus serves at the moment as a place of exile for his more unruly subjects.’
Nicholas said, ‘Then who would care if Tzani-bey is punished as he deserves?’
The King sat down again. He said, ‘First, it would be an affront to Egypt which Egypt could not be seen at present to condone. Secondly, I need the Mamelukes. The Genoese still hold Famagusta. My sister Carlotta and her husband still have their court in Kyrenia. When Kyrenia and Famagusta both fall, the Mamelukes will get what they deserve.’
Nicholas said, ‘You think Venice will send you an army? Neutral Venice?’ He heard a sound, and saw the Sicilian had moved.
The King said, ‘I let the Venetians bring you. They have rich holdings here which they don’t want to see destroyed by the Mamelukes, or the Turks, or the