The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [242]
He could not quite get away: there were too many around him, and this time the famous instinct had failed: Nicholas was beside him, and not where he could be the recipient of some cunning, impossible pass. For a moment, they were all close together except Amiroutzes and Anna, bumping and pushing. It was not surprising that, instead of hitting the ball, a mallet blow should take a horse or a person. Above the drums, it seemed to Tobie that he heard a woman’s voice scream. Next, from the swift pack of horses, he saw a pony canter off riderless while another, in the thick of the contest, suddenly staggered, throwing its rider.
The rider was Nicholas. They were near enough to see him go down, and his horse drop to its knees and roll over, threshing. Loppe jumped to his feet. The injured horse lay on its back, with the others milling around. Nicholas lay curled under their hooves, his arms over his head as they drew back. Doria, flinging his reins to someone else, slid from the saddle and disappeared: Violante of Naxos also dismounted. The horses drew back, showing grooms and pages running already from either side. The injured horse started to squeal. The lady Violante, in smeared cloth of gold, was kneeling in the dirt beside Nicholas, her hand on his shoulder. Beyond, Pagano Doria was stooping over someone else. Loppe had gone. Tobie made to go after him. Godscalc’s hand, stretching out, gripped him hard. “No. Remember.”
He had forgotten. Heads come off at this game. Your services will not be needed. It was, of course, all part of the plan. No one could mimic as Nicholas could. In the distance he could see a grey beard he knew, its owner hurrying over the ground. He said, “All right. It’s one of the physicians. But we ought to go down in a moment, or it’ll look very odd.” He paused and said, “Who else was hurt?”
“The poor little bitch,” said Astorre compassionately. “It’s the demoiselle’s little lass, Catherine. She won’t get away to Kerasous now. And there’s her damned husband free as air and Nicholas maybe done for.”
“Not from the way he was lying,” Tobie said. “But I suppose we’d better make sure.”
They were carrying Catherine off. You could see a lot of rather pretty brown hair, and a young hand dangling. Real, or part of the plan? Doria was walking quickly, looking down at her, with her helmet clutched in his hands as if he’d forgotten it. The palace doctor, leaving Nicholas, hurried over to him. Nicholas, turned to lie artistically on his back, still had not moved. From among the people standing over him, Loppe walked quietly to meet them. “Nothing bad. They don’t want to move him just yet. Kicked and trampled, but nothing broken, they think.”
Tobie stared at him in surprise. Not Nicholas the actor, this time. Nicholas the brain-addled patient. Tobie sighed. Then he said, “And the girl?”
Loppe said, “Here is Messer Doria.”
It was Doria, turned back. He looked a little pale from the shock, and also surprisingly drained. It had been a hard game, and an abrupt ending. He said, “They tell me our young friend will survive.”
Godscalc said, “We saw the lady your wife. Is she badly hurt?”
“They can’t tell me,” said Doria. “They’ve taken her to the Palace. The Emperor himself was good enough to insist. She’ll have the best attention. The doctor says she has been…The horses trampled her.”
Tobie said, “I should be glad to help if I can.”
Doria looked at him. “Thank you. But they are skilled, I think. They’ve told me I can see her whenever I want. Live there, if I want to.”
There was an uneasy silence. Astorre said, “Good horsewoman. Played a brave game.”
“It was a good game,” said Doria. His eyes went past them to where Nicholas lay, and stayed there. Then he said, “I have things to