Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [210]
Umar did not come, as he usually did, to lead Godscalc and Gelis and Nicholas to the palace with the pomp of his full family retinue, and they made their way with their own servants, mounted for dignity’s sake, and attired in brilliant light silks. Gelis, unveiled, had dressed her hair in Italian style, winding it with the pearls she still had, and it shone like wheat, and hung before her ears like barley-husks. In return for his gifts, the Timbuktu-Koy had not been niggardly, and her arms clicked with heavy, smooth bracelets. Godscalc, too, had left behind his white gown and wore a caftan of silk, with a cap of the same colour on the pruned and tamed bulk of his hair.
Nicholas had tried, also, to choose a brocade worthy of the occasion, and his servant had wound and pinned a scarf of silk round his hair, and laid on his shoulders the necklace the Timbuktu-Koy had given him. Hung from it was a grey hollow object which he understood to be a unicorn’s horn, and efficacious against almost everything. A week ago, he would have joked about it. Now, riding to the palace, he said nothing.
It had been a curious day. For the first time, clouds had hidden the sun, and by afternoon, the sky was livid and splashed with flickering light, which seemed to stream to the low yellow horizon. Sometimes, above the cheerful din of the streets, a low growl would be heard, as if a pride of lions were stalking the firmament. It was breathlessly hot: a few weeks hence, the sun would hold the city at the height of its thrall. Gelis looked up and said, ‘You will need to go soon.’
Since the gold had arrived, they had not spoken of what was to come. There had been enough to do, signing documents, making formal depositions, taking physical charge of the great weight of metal. At least, shod in iron, it wouldn’t be simple to steal. And Umar would see it was safe.
He hadn’t seen Umar since yesterday. He wondered if Umar had spoken to Godscalc, and whether that accounted for the priest’s heavy silence. That, or the inescapable reminder that mankind thought that gold was important. Or perhaps simply an accumulation of doubt over an adventure which had always seemed faintly unreal, and which now seemed quite plainly foolhardy.
They would see Umar at the palace. Nicholas hoped, with fervour, that the disagreement was dismissed and forgotten, and that Umar had abandoned his madness. If not, Nicholas wondered how he would prevent the other from coming, short of hurting him. He would probably have to hurt him.
Gelis said, ‘For a rich man, you look very bleak. It may not rain after all. How lucky that you mended the fountains.’
Tonight, the whole of the palace had been opened, with all its chambers, courtyards and pools, all its flat roofs and its balconies. Lamplit flowers, sickly with scent, poured and clambered over the pillars, and incense smoked in the pavilions where tasselled cushions were heaped on the benches. The cloths which hung from the walls were magenta and purple and gold, and occasionally sewn from the skins of spotted cats of the hunting variety. The floor-tiles had been swept, although grass grew in petty wisps where the cracks were. The sound of water, in spray and in movement, could be heard everywhere.
‘Now they have a water engineer,’ Gelis said, ‘all they need is a really good manager. Why doesn’t Umar take it in hand?’
‘Why don’t you?’ Nicholas said. ‘It will give you something to do.’ He had been given a cup, and was sipping from it.
‘I told you,’ she said. ‘I’ve begun learning Arabic. That’s fermented.’
‘I know. Would you like some?’
He found himself under close scrutiny. She said, ‘Oh, dear. That’s why you were so quiet on the journey?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Drink, I’m told, usually makes me rather noisy. Are you sure you wouldn’t like some?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not celebrating. You don’t look as if you’re celebrating either. I suppose I don’t blame you.