Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [192]
Gelis looked where she pointed. Slaves had entered, bearing platters enough for a feast. And it was true, there were men, standing in light, lustrous silks under the honeycomb arch at the end of the pool. Men, fully dressed, were drifting into the courtyard. Turbaned men, old men and young, with black skins and brown. Men with caps and white skins glazed by the sun, among whom were Diniz, and Godscalc, and Nicholas vander Poele. Not eunuchs, but men. Gelis said, ‘You knew this would happen.’
‘Maybe,’ said Bel of Cuthilgurdy. ‘He’s a cantankerous, argle-barglous young man, but sometimes he’s afraid. He may as well see there is nothing to be afraid of. Or is your belly so precious, that ye would like my wet cloak to conceal it?’
‘No,’ said Gelis. But the scents pulsed from her skin as if her heart were a pestle compounding them.
Diniz noticed her first. To begin with, Nicholas saw only the Negresses, lithe as eels on the cushions, their voices merry as raindrops on bronze. Then he thought he saw, long-limbed and languid and pale, the luminous form of Primaflora as he had seen her, white against black, in the noseless woman’s palace in Cyprus; after she had seduced and betrayed him, over and over. Primaflora, his wife, whom he had taken to save Katelina and who, perhaps, could not therefore be blamed.
Then he saw it was not his wife – his second, his temporary wife – or Katelina; and that Katelina’s sister was not like Katelina at all.
She hadn’t moved. The Byzantine eyes, drawn in black, were fully upon him. He guessed that she had had no warning, and was touched suddenly by her courage. He obeyed an instinct and, instead of turning aside, made her a gesture of ordinary courtesy. The merchants showed no surprise, but, talking together, moved about the court and freely mingled with the women, sharing their couches as the bowls of food were brought round. Musicians came, and the sound of pipes and horn and drum and single-string fiddle began to weave behind the chatter.
The Timbuktu-Koy took Nicholas to where his wives and daughters were seated, and Nicholas behaved as he should. Beside him Father Godscalc said in Flemish, ‘They should not have done that.’ He looked heated.
‘Gelis? said Nicholas. ‘She chose, I imagine, to conform to the custom. Bel is robed.’
‘Bel is a dangerous woman,’ said Father Godscalc. He paused. He said, ‘These are high-born women. But if they offer a slave, it would not be a sin in this place to take her. You cannot obey every rule of the Church.’
‘I know it is a long time since Tendeba,’ Nicholas said.
‘Then take your eyes from her,’ said Godscalc.
He spoke roughly. Nicholas looked at him. He said, ‘Gelis? I am in no state to deflower her. I am only looking at an object of beauty, not yet soiled, not yet defaced, not yet neglected. I wish I had never brought her.’
‘You wanted her to know the truth,’ Godscalc said.
‘And does she know it?’ said Nicholas.
‘Do you know it yourself?’ Godscalc said. ‘She knows your nightmares. I think sometimes she shares them. But turn your gaze from her, Nicholas. You got a child on her sister.’
‘She is not Katelina,’ Nicholas said. It was not the answer it appeared to be: he had forgotten Godscalc was there. The discovery filled his mind, and his body, too, began to acknowledge it. He felt giddy.
Godscalc rose. He said, ‘Nicholas, come away. You are unwell. Your hosts can be in no doubt about it.’ He caught Umar’s eye.
Umar said, ‘No harm has been done: perhaps good. Let him withdraw: there will be other meetings. Diniz can stay and bring the ladies home.’
‘You trust Diniz?’ said Godscalc. He gave a half-smile.
‘Wholly. He thinks of Bel as his aunt, and Gelis, I fancy, as an inconvenient and difficult cousin. Which is not to say –’
‘– that his jaw hasn’t dropped,’ said Nicholas unexpectedly, if blearily. ‘Umar? If you’re taking me home, you’d better do it.