Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [93]
Tristão Vasquez said, ‘I don’t understand. Here Messer Niccolò comes. What am I to say to him, and to the lady?’ The boy was silent.
Katelina said, ‘I don’t think they will stop. He wouldn’t dare.’
She was wrong. Instead of attempting to pass, her betrayer walked directly towards the waiting group, his hand in the arm of the woman. He was chatting to her. Telling her what? And who was she? No one had mentioned a woman. As he came close, Katelina tried to read his expression. The round face of Claes the apprentice had gone, although it had left behind its distinguishing features: the thick lips, the arched nostrils, the eyes large and shining as lily-pads. She could just see the white seam on one cheek, the legacy he owed to Jordan de Ribérac. At close hand, his expression was still agreeable, but no longer foolish. He stopped and looked at her. Then he smiled at Tristão and said, ‘I know the lady’s husband. I should have told you. Demoiselle Katelina, I wish you to meet the lady Primaflora, come to rejoin the suite of the serene Queen of Cyprus. And am I right in addressing the Grand Commander?’
The Grand Commander of Cyprus considered the other man; an experienced soldier judging another. At his back, their swords sheathed, were the men-at-arms of his escort. He said, ‘Louis de Magnac. We have not met?’
Nicholas said, ‘I have not had the honour. I recognised your coat of arms from Kolossi. But I expect the lady Primaflora is known to you.’
‘Yes,’ said Louis de Magnac. ‘Yes. In the suite of Queen Carlotta. I recall her clearly, of course.’
He had hesitated at the reminder, as well he might. How had Nicholas got hold of this woman? Katelina said quickly, ‘The Grand Commander is arranging for the lady to be taken to the Palace immediately. Then these tiresome formalities needn’t disturb her.’
The woman spoke. The timbre of her voice matched her carriage and the excellent taste of her clothes. Katelina suddenly understood. In Rome, the conduct of the ladies of Queen Carlotta’s suite had been the subject of comment. The woman said, ‘I have nothing against formalities. I prefer to linger, I think, with Messer Niccolò.’
Tristão Vasquez said, ‘What formalities?’
Katelina displayed surprise. ‘The Treasurer and the Grand Commander will know better than I. But after a ship is attacked, do the passengers not require to give evidence of what has been stolen, or what they saw, that might lead to the arrest of the pirates?’
‘We have done that,’ said Nicholas. ‘And we are tired after our voyage and would prefer to make for an inn. Senhor Tristão has made some recommendations.’
‘There is no need,’ said the Grand Commander. ‘Here is a footservant who will carry your luggage, and my men to escort you. I shall merely ask you to wait while I confirm that the ship’s master has no more need of your testimony.’
He gave a small bow and walked off, his secretary following. The group of men-at-arms, left behind, formed a small and far from casual circle. Katelina turned to Tristão Vasquez. ‘There is no need for us to wait. Here are porters. The house I have taken is near, in the Chora.’
The Portuguese said, ‘I wish to know what is happening. Why is this gentleman being detained? He has brought an army to serve Queen Carlotta. His wishes should be consulted.’
How had Nicholas won over Vasquez? But of course. By paying the boy some attention. Shrewd, percipient Nicholas. But at least the Grand Commander had gone. Katelina spoke just loudly enough to convey the quality of her scorn. ‘I can see you think highly of Claes. You know he was called Claes, when he was a dyeshop apprentice? He then achieved a rather short marriage, from which he has emerged with a new name and riches. He likes to regard himself as one of Simon’s most consistent rivals. That is why neither you nor the Order were favoured with the truth about his relationships. That is why the Queen of Cyprus might be forgiven for wondering which side he really means to fight for – Queen Carlotta, or Zacco.’