The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [234]
She went to the Palace a lot. It was there, it seemed, she had confided her troubles. There, and not to Nicholas. Nicholas, pinned down by Tobie on what was supposed to be a hunting party, pointed out that the Palace had more powers than they had, and anyway he rather thought that Doria might have blackened his character.
“Well, if he has, he knows something I don’t know,” Tobie said. “But she might still be piqued about you and her mother.”
“Perhaps,” Nicholas had said. He had stopped riding to unstrap something from his saddle.
Godscalc had reined in gently beside him. “You said the child didn’t want to leave right away. Why? Might it be that she is as attached to her husband as ever, and is using this means to recover his interest?”
“I’m not sure,” Nicholas had said.
Godscalc had looked at him. “Aren’t you?”
“Aren’t you?” Tobie had repeated, alarmed. “Well, you’d better make up your mind before you do what she wants. Because, if she wants him to follow her, she could lead Messer Pagano Doria to Kerasous.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Nicholas said. “But we can’t refuse to take her. Apparently, he has some scheme in mind, and she wants to know what it is. So do I.”
“She would spy for you?” Tobie said. “And maybe for Doria as well, like Paraskeuas? I think you should stop listening to Fra Godscalc your Christian conscience. Take the girl now and send her to Kerasous, whether she wants it or not. As for Doria, you know what I think. I think she liked him when he was rich, but not as a philandering failure. I think you could kill him tomorrow and she wouldn’t shed so much as a tear.”
“You may be right,” Nicholas said. “In fact, you are right about one thing. It’s time we got her out. The question is, how to stop Doria noticing it.”
“Well, I’ve told you one very good way,” Tobie said. “What are you doing?”
“Playing with a ball,” Nicholas had said. There was one on the grass. He straightened. In his hand was a stick with a knob on it.
“On horseback?”
“It’s a game they play at the festival. I’ve been invited, not very seriously, to try my hand at it. Catherine and Doria will be there.”
He addressed the ball with the stick and hit it, and it flew into a tree and stuck there. Tobie said, “And?”
“And just what you think,” Nicholas said. “The twenty-fourth day of June. Kidnapping Day. But this time, a game of our choosing; and not Pagano Doria’s.”
Chapter 34
THE EASTER FESTIVITIES had been held at the Meidan, as was the tradition. For the celebration of the Feast of St Eugenios, the Emperor chose a different stadium for his games, and was committed to a different church for his worship. Tobie, for one, had not expected the echoes to be so disturbing.
At vespers the evening before, the court performed its annual reverence to the saint. As on that first occasion, the Latin merchants and their servants and entourage took their places to do honour to the Emperor as he rode down from the Palace. This time, crossing the eastern ravine, the court rode uphill and south to the strong convent and church of St Eugenios, built on the spot where the saint achieved martyrdom. Still further east, beyond another picturesque but overgrown gorge, lay Mount Mithras, heathen site of the shrine he had bravely demolished. St Eugenios, Tobie reflected, had cut the trudge to worship nearly by half, and deserved the annual thanks of his votaries.
Three months ago, fresh from busy Flanders,