The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [187]
“Is that food?” Nicholas said.
“Yes. We’ve eaten. They feed you all right,” Julius said. “Listen. Why…?”
“Well, they forgot to feed me,” Nicholas said. “Go on. I can answer with my mouth full. Didn’t you recognise the citadel when they brought you in? Or even, my God, the smell of the goathair?”
“It was dark,” Julius said. “And we thought we were in Doria’s hands. And that’s something that—”
“I know. Later,” said Nicholas. He removed half a chicken for long enough to get the words out. They all sat round and watched him. Finally, he said, “Uzum Hasan’s men rescued us, but it would suit them to keep quiet about it. It would suit us as well. In fact, we could do each other quite a lot of good, and I want to talk to them about that while they’re willing. After that, we’ll be free to do what we came for. The caravans are in already. By the time they’re rested, we should be fit to go back.”
“And Doria?” said Julius.
Nicholas said, “They killed all his hired men, but I think we’ll find he’s escaped back to Trebizond with what’s left of the few he brought with him. Then it’s his word against ours.”
The captain said, “You mean, sir, that he’ll pretend he didn’t attack us?—There’s nothing to drink. Just some sickly stuff, and we finished it.”
“Well, damn you. In his shoes, I’d either say nothing, or else pretend I’d come across the signs of a bloody battle but no survivors. Come to think of it, that’s what he’ll think actually happened. Brigands attacked us, and the rest of us died.”
“Lord God Almighty, he’s going to get a shock,” Julius said. “When we all ride in with those camels.”
Without drink, it was impossible, unfortunately, to eat any more. Nicholas wiped his hands on some straw and got up. “When you ride in,” he said, “I’m not coming.”
“Why?” said Julius. His slanting brows jammed.
“They want me to weed out the harem,” Nicholas said. “They want to teach me some tricks on the farmuk. I promised to show them how to dye their handkerchiefs pink. Whatever we buy, I want to take it somewhere safer than Trebizond, and stay there.”
“Why?” said Julius.
“I’ll tell you, if you tell me how you knew Doria was following.”
“It was Paraskeuas,” Julius said. “He thought I knew. He thought of course you would have told me…You rode off on your own, you fool, knowing that Doria was following you?”
“You rode off on your own to warn me,” Nicholas said. Again and again, he owed his life to Julius, who understood him less than anyone he had ever met. But this time there was not just a tutor’s impatience in the way Julius was looking at him.
Julius said, “There was no time to do anything else if I was going to overtake Doria. I suppose we’d better send back a message to say we’re alive. What do you mean, somewhere safer than Trebizond?”
“To keep our cargo away from Doria, among other reasons. I’ll tell you more later, when I find out the Turcomans’ plans. I’d better go. They’re expecting me.”
Julius had risen also. He looked, for Julius, a little dazed. He said, “You trust the Turcomans? Turcomans send back Turkish spies with their chopped-off hands hung round their necks.”
“I know what you mean,” Nicholas said. “Can’t see to trim their fingernails without cutting their throats.” He watched, with pleasure, as Julius got annoyed.
Julius snapped, “So who’s expecting you? You haven’t met Uzum Hasan?”
“No. It’s his mother,” Nicholas said. “The Syrian. Remember? Her daughter-in-law is a princess from Trebizond. Her great-niece is the lady Violante. Violante of Naxos. That’s why I’m here. That’s why we were rescued. That is…I didn’t know we were going to be rescued, and I don’t know even yet what side the lady Violante is on.” He looked at the expression on Julius’s face and involuntarily gave a large sigh. “Julius—I’m sorry; but it simply isn’t practicable to tell everybody beforehand what I’m doing. It’s too damaging and it involves other people and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out anyway. Although,” said Nicholas thoughtfully, “I think this has a fair chance of success,