The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [18]
The Tsar heard him out. If he had a reputation for violence, there was no sign of it here; but no sign either of a weak or a yielding personality. He received Lymond’s words without interruption, and, at the end, stared at him for a long time without speaking. Then, lifting his voice, he made a single harsh comment.
Hard and fast as a ricochet, Lymond answered him, displeasure distinct in his face. The Emperor replied with three words; and then, turning his shoulder, began to address the black-attired man on his left. The secretary, approaching Lymond, spoke in a murmur of Latin. ‘You and your men are dismissed.’
Lymond lifted his eyebrows, but made no audible rejoinder. Turning to the dais, he bowed, and Blacklock, Guthrie and Hoddim in turn did the same. The Tsar, still chatting, half lifted his right hand in acknowledgement. They had almost retired to the doors when he turned fully round, raised a finger and said something with mild force to Adashev. The courtier rose, bowed, and walking smoothly, caught up with Lymond. Adashev smiled, and spoke.
‘Oh Christ,’ said Adam under his breath, cut off like a deaf mute from all adult comprehension.
Guthrie, beside him, grinned and murmured, but not loudly enough to be overheard, ‘It’s all right. Lymond has been commanded to Adashev’s house for further discussion, while we are to return to our quarters. You aren’t dealing with Scots or English or Italians, you know.’
It was Guthrie also who enlightened them all, back in the building they shared, and answered Adam’s questions, and those of Plummer and d’Harcourt and the others who had not been present. ‘The contract is still open. Ivan won’t decide until after Adashev’s meeting with Lymond.’
‘Christ,’ said Danny Hislop, ‘with the Angry Eye?’
‘What?’ said Guthrie sharply.
‘Boyar Plummer here,’ said Danny, ‘was anxious to know. Were you in the Uspenski? Did you see the Rublev frescoes? The Virgin of the Don? Christ with the Angry Eye?’
‘Which was the Uspenski?’ said Fergie Hoddim with interest. ‘Yon tall, plain one at the end with the five gold-leaf onions?’
‘Fioravanti,’ said Lancelot Plummer, driven to intervene in the interests of culture. ‘The Uspenski Cathedral, redesigned seventy-five years ago by Aristotle Fioravanti from Bologna in white Kama sandstone and used for coronations and all State ceremonials. My God, you must have noticed it.’
‘From Bologna?’ said Fergie, surprised. ‘Think of the price! Had they no Russian architects?’
‘The Cathedral of St Michael Archangel,’ said Plummer kindly, ‘built by Alevisio of Milan. The Granovitaya Palace and the Kremlin walls, built by Marco Ruffo and Pietro Solario. They had Russian architects begin work on the new Uspenski before they called in Fioravanti. They called in Fioravanti when the new walls fell down.’
‘If,’ said Adam, ‘we could get back to the Tsar …?’
‘Well, you saw what happened,’ said Guthrie. ‘He asked the sort of questions any hard-headed statesman would think of. Where had we all learned our profession; how long had we been together; what nationality were we all; what battles had we taken part in, and whom had we fought for. What religion did we subscribe to. Were we traders. Why had we left France in the first place. And what had Lymond been doing in Turkey.’
‘Mon dieu,’ said Ludovic d’Harcourt gently.
‘À l’oeil fâcheux,’ said Danny Hislop. ‘What did he say?’
‘The truth,’ Guthrie said placidly. ‘More or less. That we owe allegiance to no single master. That we fight for money and France has not enough money to satisfy us. That we have never taken arms against the Scottish nation, to which many of us belong, or for the Turk, whose faith none of us holds, but that were we to be munificently paid, we might do even that. And that we have no interest in trading.’
‘Speaking for himself,’ said Lancelot Plummer.
‘Speaking for all of us,’ said Guthrie bluntly.