The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [118]
Astorre said, “I was going to suggest something like it myself. We need a man or two over that wall, to reconnoitre the City before we’re invited. It’s a rule of mine. Never go blind into another man’s town. You send in Meester Julius, and I’ll give him one of my fellows as escort, and a list of what he should look for.”
“Julius?” Nicholas said. “I’m not sure. You’re hardly fit after Pera. Would you do it?”
“Well, they’re not going to break my bones again, are they?” Julius said. “Of course I’m fit. Unless they make me laugh more than usual.”
He set out for the sea gate early next morning, in a tasselled hat and a rough woven tunic, with one of Astorre’s men behind, a carpet over his shoulder. He looked magnificent. Watching him leave, Tobie said, “He thinks it was all his idea.”
Godscalc smiled.
Nicholas said, “It’s just as well, isn’t it? We three can sit eating and drinking and playing with words, but only Julius has spent weeks on campaign; is tough and quick on his feet; has Greek, and knows Bessarion and is ready to risk his skin for that girl, one way or another.”
Godscalc bent on Nicholas one of his long, calm, considering looks, but didn’t answer the challenge. “Your point is taken,” he said.
“Oh, it’s taken,” said Tobie. “But I’m damned if it’s accepted. If you want me as a confederate then you must expect me to polish my badges. On the other hand, I’m not fussy. I don’t mind doing the rough work and letting Julius practise his cunning, if you’d prefer it.”
“I think,” Godscalc said, “that Nicholas is trying to tell us that we are an equal team, with different talents. What’s wrong? You’re not jealous of the lady from Naxos?”
“You mean—?” said Tobie, startled.
“He means,” said Nicholas, “that Julius is almost certain to try and find his way into the Palace. It’s all right. Astorre’s man has orders to stop him.”
He looked unruffled, as he had been throughout. Tobie said, “God damn you, my child.”
“All right,” said Nicholas. “But not until we’ve bought our silk and seen Doria off and you’ve found where the brothels are. Then we’ll let you do the rough work while we practise our cunning.”
Julius came back half a day later, a little the worse for wear, and exuberant. It was a city worth seeing: he had roved through all but its highest part; he had called on the house of Bessarion’s dead mother and had found the man Paraskeuas and taken him off to a tavern and, after a great deal of talk, had got him to agree to do what they wanted. The man, with his wife and son, would call on the Grand Vestarios that very day, and ask his help in obtaining an appointment with the Genoese consul. Paraskeuas himself was the sort you might expect, in the household of an old woman. A soft-bodied, well-trained Trapezuntine who spoke sadly of the cardinal’s long absence from the family home, and the sweetness and generosity of his mother.
“Generosity?” said Tobie, alert.
“Oh, he held out for a fair sum, but I gave him what he asked in the long run,” Julius said. “After all, he’s taking his life in his hands. If Doria finds he’s spying for us, it’ll be the end of him.”
“But you had to fight him before he’d agree,” Nicholas said.
Julius glanced at his torn tunic, and stretched his bruised face in a grin. Behind him, Astorre said, “He fell off a wall.”
“A wall?” said Godscalc obediently. This time, Tobie let Godscalc exercise all the cunning.
“Into the Upper Citadel,” Julius said. “I couldn’t get through the gate to the Palace. Astorre’s man nearly fell too, but managed to hold me. The walls look well, but need some expert attention: that’s one of the things you wanted to know. Anyway, it didn’t look a bad climb.”
“With half-mended ribs and a cracked collarbone?” Nicholas said. “Astorre’s man should have let you drop. But I’m glad you reached Paraskeuas while we can still do it secretly. We’ve had news. We’re invited into the City tomorrow to witness the Emperor and the court attend divine service. Then we have to return