The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [143]
It might have been a parting gesture, except that the grip stayed; and Doria exclaimed as if in pain. He said, “Let me go, my young Flemish lout, or I shall call over an usher.”
“Call,” said Nicholas. “But first give me the letter.” His hand, weakening, slid from its grasp as he spoke. But as Godscalc had placed himself before Julius, so now three grim-faced men of the Charetty company stood between Doria and the way to his seat.
He looked in turn at them all, eyebrows lifted in amusement. “My dear boy, if it matters so much, of course you shall have your precious letter. I thought to make it the prize for some small, congenial task, but I see you haven’t the strength to compete for it. I shall have to rely on your men. Let us say, my dear Niccolino, that if one of your men performs a service for me this day, then you shall have the letter forthwith. If not, it will have to wait for another occasion. Is it so terrible? It has been months on its journey already. Everyone who can read it has done so. May I pass?”
It was Godscalc who said, with cold dislike, “Indeed you may,” and used his bulk to deter Astorre and Julius from following. Doria bowed from the passage and left. He was only just in time: the Basileus had entered the box.
Astorre said, “I’ll have to go. Are ye all right?”
“Go. Good luck,” Nicholas said. He didn’t waste effort, Tobie was glad to see, in attempting to answer the question.
Godscalc said, “What does he mean, perform a service?”
“I can’t imagine,” said Nicholas. Sitting, he had spread a hand over his face. The fever had risen: his face was inflamed with it, and between his fingers his eyes were dry and bright. He made an effort. “I mean, I don’t know. It’s a letter to me from the demoiselle. The Genoese merchants were holding it. He told me this morning.”
“In the bath house,” said Julius.
Godscalc said, “Never mind all that now. They’re putting the pole up. That’s for Astorre and the shooting?”
“Yes,” said Nicholas. Two passaging fingers came to a definite halt at the root of his nose. He dropped them. “Astorre.”
“No,” Godscalc said. “Astorre and I had a short conversation before he left to join the men. Nothing will happen to Pagano Doria.”
“Why not?” said Julius.
No one answered him.
Chapter 21
SOMETIMES TOBIAS BEVENTINI was moved to wonder how Julius ever managed to become a member of the Italian notariate. At others, recalling his energy and his exploits, he accepted that it was simply a fact that Julius now and then quite enjoyably lost his head. On this occasion, once convinced of the unsuitability of murdering the Genoese ambassador in full view of the Basileus and people of Trebizond, Julius consented, fuming, to sit. It was as well, for the second half of the celebration was about to begin.
Tobie was not unsympathetic to Julius. He recognised that between Julius and his former apprentice there existed a special relationship that no one else shared except, perhaps, Astorre. At times, irritatingly, Nicholas would decide to side with his notary, as over the case of Paraskeuas. Julius seldom returned the compliment, although he had once taken the trouble to save Nicholas from drowning. Why? From simple humanity? Bravado? Respect for the company property? All three, very likely. Julius still regarded Nicholas, with detached pride, as his protégé.
And how, then, did Nicholas regard Julius? On the surface, with the broad affection he gave to the world. But below the surface, it seemed, there were hidden currents. Tobie had experienced none of them, but then he was not Julius. The guarded, sardonic sparring in which Tobie and Nicholas sometimes engaged arose from wariness on both sides, however it might sometimes soften. Nicholas was not wary of Julius: he knew him too well. It did not occur to Tobie, as it had once to Marian de Charetty, that he was jealous of Julius.
Now, sitting still on his bench, Tobie considered what he had just heard, and tried to fit it into the gaping mosaic that was his