The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [150]
What has it to do with you? Nicholas thought. He said only, “Not Julius.”
“Agreed,” said Godscalc. “The fewer the better. On the other hand, he must be told who is paying Pagano Doria and so must the others. In failing to pass on that information, you broke an agreement made by your wife for our protection. It must be revised.”
“You will enjoy that,” said Nicholas. He imagined Julius would.
For a moment, he thought he saw on Godscalc’s face the expression Tobie had worn. Disgust? Disappointment, perhaps. Harshness, certainly. Godscalc said, “We cannot trust you, but we cannot remove you. You will remain as nominal leader, but will give Julius your code books. You will take no decisions alone; you will go nowhere alone; you will discuss nothing without one of us present.”
It was no less than he expected. His lips cracked as he parted them. “Even with the Emperor?” Nicholas said.
There was a little silence. Then Tobie (of course) said, “You might as well tell us. Was it true? You and Doria?”
“Up to a point,” Nicholas said. It was like the end of a whipping: you walked away light-headed, and made everyone angry. Later, he would have to bring to mind, as well as he could, every word of the ordeal and examine it, and consider the consequences. Later, he would have to deal with the caging, the dogging, the loss of his privacy.
Meanwhile, he had got through the worst of it, and he had made, he thought, at least no silly mistakes. He said, “The Emperor did make his wishes quite clear. But that was all.”
“Nothing happened?” said Tobie.
“Oh, quite a lot happened,” said Nicholas. “I think…in that box.”
He watched Tobie frown, and then cross unwillingly to the red velvet chest. He had put a third manuscript on top of the others. Tobie examined it. The expression on his face as he straightened was gratifying. He said, “Do you know what this is?”
Since he had chosen it for Tobie, he was glad that he recognised it. The treatise composed by the physician Zacharius for a Comneni emperor in Byzantium was three hundred years old. It was still the greatest work of its kind. Or so he had been assured. The Book of Zacharias on the Eye, called the Secret of Secrets.
Nicholas said, “It’s the Emperor’s gift. Doria said there was no silver left. He was right. But there are manuscripts, and they are willing to trade them.”
Tobie said, “Get them.”
“What I can,” Nicholas said. “Some are being copied. Don’t tell Doria.”
Godscalc, too, had crossed to the box and was kneeling. He said, “You need no other merchandise but this. One manuscript—in France, one manuscript sells for five hundred écus.”
“I know. But still. The camel trains might get through, too, if we help them.”
They looked at him. He supposed it seemed crazy, talking money. Nicholas said, “If you collected the books for me, I could leave you. Find the caravans and hurry them in. It would get me out of your way, and Doria’s.”
“Doria’s?” said Tobie. They had forgotten.
Nicholas said, “He’s married to Catherine de Charetty. He’ll put me away as soon as he thinks we’re rich enough. He can’t touch Bruges. He can’t touch Catherine’s mother. But he could seize the branch here in her name and collect all its profits before he could be legally stopped. You have to keep me alive. You have to pretend that I’m still running the company. Because, the moment I’m dead or deposed, you belong to Doria.”
The silence that followed was a long one, and was broken only by Godscalc. He said, “Is it possible? Did you design what has happened? Did you intend to make us privy to all that you’ve done, since the threat of Doria protected you?”
They stared at him, as if they expected to receive an answer. Eventually, he said, “Pretending the fever was the hardest bit.” Then they went.
Loppe, sponging him down, said, “Did you get what you wanted?”
“Yes. I’m still alive,” Nicholas said.
Loppe said, “You’ll die, if you don’t quieten down. You’ll die before you are thirty.”
“Twenty,” Nicholas