Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [25]
‘Loppe knows all there is to know,’ Nicholas said. It was a lie, but this was a night for mendacity. The boat rocked up and down, and Loppe brushed the water with his blades to keep her from drifting.
‘Then I want the truth,’ Godscalc said.
‘Of course,’ Nicholas said. ‘You have the means to make me tell it.’ The last glow in the west had long gone, and the lights of Venice lay on the water. They were not strong enough to show the hurt he hoped he had caused.
Godscalc said, ‘You have some scheme to go to Africa?’
‘Ask Gregorio how many schemes I have. This is one. A contingency plan. It may never be needed.’
‘And if you go, it will not be by way of Egypt?’
‘I could trade with Egypt. As things are, I couldn’t go there myself just yet,’ Nicholas said. He was supposed to be telling the truth. That was true. He would be killed, for what he had done in Cyprus.
‘So you mean to approach it from another direction. From Barbary, or beyond the Pillars of Hercules?’
‘From some such place. It was to learn more that I asked to come here today,’ Nicholas said. That was also true, so far as it went. He knew, without seeing Godscalc’s face, that it didn’t go far enough.
Godscalc said, ‘Let me repeat. You intend to reach Ethiopia by travelling south of the Sahara desert. That is where da Mosto has been.’
‘Yes,’ Nicholas said.
‘And by sea. That is why you are awaiting the repair of your boat.’
‘I couldn’t go without it,’ said Nicholas. It sounded true, but it wasn’t.
‘But you mean to travel to Ethiopia,’ Godscalc said. He had said it before. Loppe, dissatisfied with the angle of the boat, initiated two or three thoughtful strokes. After a moment, Nicholas joined him. He continued rowing without making much effort.
Nicholas said, ‘I don’t know what I mean to do. It’s a possibility. I’m exploring it. Am I a criminal?’
‘You are a very good liar,’ Godscalc said. ‘You have always been. Did you kill Katelina van Borselen?’
He should have expected it. Spray fell into the boat. He leaned forward to take the next stroke, this time keeping it even. Loppe, as ever, followed him. He said, ‘The rumours in Bruges? I should only lie to you.’
‘You are asking me for my silence. I am asking you about a young, misguided woman whose child –’
‘No!’ said Nicholas. The boat rocked, and then started to settle. He said, ‘If you try to compel me that way, you’ll be sorry.’
‘Why?’ said Godscalc. ‘I have nothing to lose but my life. It hasn’t escaped you. From here, I couldn’t swim back. Who killed Simon’s wife?’
There seemed no way to avoid answering, although he tried to think of one. He said eventually, ‘She died in the siege of Famagusta. She was there because of me, but I didn’t kill her.’
‘And the father of Diniz?’ said Godscalc. He had no right. It was pointless. One could tell the truth or make up any story.
‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘He was Simon’s partner and hence my rival in business. He died because I was there, but I didn’t kill him.’
‘So your conscience is free,’ Godscalc said. ‘And in Ethiopia, or on the way to Ethiopia? Who will be there because of you; who will perish?’
‘I have no idea,’ Nicholas said. ‘But I understand you long to serve God at my side. If I go, why not come along and restrain me? Africa may emerge unscathed from the ordeal.’
They had come too far. Loppe had stopped rowing. Nicholas lifted the blades, but kept his hands steady on the shafts. It was the only thing that kept his hands steady. Water lapped. Godscalc said, ‘Can it be that you believe all the legends? About the great race of priest-kings known from antiquity; about the Christian warrior-prince named Prester John who, if summoned, will rise to smite the unfaithful?’
‘You’ve forgotten,’ Nicholas said. ‘I met one of his envoys when we were in Fiesole four years ago. There was a Coptic priory in Nicosia. I’ve spent more time than I like to remember with Ludovico da Bologna, our eminent Patriarch of Antioch, who has made it his