The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [137]
Chapter 20
“SWAMP FEVER,” Tobie said. “You remember. He had it in the Abruzzi.” Julius was the fifth person he had told since he promised Nicholas to tell no one. As a physician, Tobias Beventini operated an entirely personal code, with referrals to his own comfort, to the general good and, sometimes, to the benefit of whatever patient he had elected to cure. He was an excellent doctor.
“Swamp fever. On a hilltop,” said Julius.
“Once you’ve had it, it comes back,” said Tobie.
“It came back at the church, and you didn’t notice it? Or when he returned from the Palace, you diagnosed it immediately? Or he just told you he had it?” said Julius.
Tobie said, “I didn’t see him when he came back from the Palace. Loppe came for me half an hour ago. It’s only just starting. He’ll manage.” He looked for support to Godscalc, eating placidly across the table. Julius in one of his moods was not going to be helpful. In an hour, the Charetty company, representing the Republic of Florence, had to present itself at the Meidan where music, dancing, feats of daring and skill would be presented for the Emperor’s Easter entertainment. Among those taking part, by special request, would be the Charetty soldiers. The company’s officials would be expected to hobnob with the officials and magnates of the region and with their fellow colonists. The company’s leader would be required, on demand, to exchange courtesies with the Emperor and his household. The company’s leader being Nicholas, who had returned from the Palace with a pulse like an anthill and his inner garments sodden with sweat. Tobie applied himself to his food, considering a number of things.
Julius brooded. “If the fever comes back with emperors, when will he be seized with it next? Or a sore throat, or a cold, or a stomach ache?”
Tobie raised his brows. “It’s genuine,” he remarked.
“I don’t question it,” Julius said. “I’m only saying that I watch out for the man who crumbles when stretched.”
“Myself,” observed Nicholas from the doorway, “I keep out of range of the fellow who snaps.”
Tobie, who had suspected, from his experience of him, that Nicholas was not far away, applied himself diligently to his plate. He heard Nicholas pass, and felt a sharp rap on his shoulder.
“I’ll speak to you later,” said Nicholas. He sat down beside le Grant. “All right. I’ve prayed, and I think I’ll be adequate if everyone’s kind to me. You heard we got our concessions? A new fondaco, a consulate and a chapel. Two per hundred import duty, and nothing on exports. A safe conduct for all Florentine merchants, ships and goods, revocable only on six months’ prior notice. Someone from the Palace is coming tomorrow to take delivery of some of our silks. I sent Loppe to tell you, so that you could draw up some plans. You’ve had time. What are they?” He stretched for the wine, got a glare from Tobie, and withdrew his hand. Julius, pausing, began to answer him. His face was full of suspicion. Tobie continued to eat, with one eye on his patient.
He didn’t look particularly sick. In the past year, his growth had ceased, confirming him as a tall man, and well proportioned. Training at the crucial time had shaped and hardened the muscles accustomed only to heavy manual labour. Something else had stripped the puppy flesh from his face. The framework was the same: the broad brow, the wide jaw with its blunt chin and full lips. But its width was now defined by cheekbones which cast their own shadow, and matched the thin, inquisitive nose. It was a face you could no longer be sure of reading—if, indeed, you ever could.
A layman, surveying him now, would see little except perhaps an enhanced colour and an extra brightness of eye. The priest Godscalc was not only a trained apothecary with battle experience, but had seen Nicholas in the same state before. He turned his eyes from patient to doctor and spoke in the mildest of undertones.