The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [255]
The dismissal did not immediately come. The Emperor said, “Others have spoken thus.”
Amiroutzes said, “I thought you doubted them. That is why—But if, magnificence, you wish to reopen the matter, then perhaps Messer Niccolò should remain and debate with us all?”
There was a pause. Yes. No. The Emperor said, “We wish to consider these things at leisure. It is time for dinner.”
He rose and left, with his immediate suite, amid his flattened council. Nicholas rose without haste, and looked for the Emperor’s commander. In front of him was a chamberlain saying, “May I escort you, before the gates close? These days, it is as difficult sometimes to leave the Upper Citadel as it is to get in.”
“I thought to complete a little business,” said Nicholas. He stood where he was.
A hand took his arm. “Tomorrow, perhaps,” said the Count Palatine. “When no doubt we shall draw again upon your wisdom and your eloquence. We are fortunate, Messer Niccolò, to have you and your men as our bastion. But when inner councils are held, you will realise, those not of the Empire are obliged to depart.”
“Of course,” said Nicholas. “And when you are ready to receive Captain Astorre, you have only to tell us.”
The news became known soon enough, and in forms he would not have chosen. Warned a little, he and the rest did what they could to belittle it. There was no panic; but it became harder to forge the weapons of ebullience and ridicule against the constant taunting uproar outside. It became apparent, from the flag flying there, that the Turkish admiral had made his headquarters in the Genoese castle. “They’ll make him governor, I shouldn’t wonder, once the Sultan gets in,” Tobie said.
Nicholas said, “No.” For once, they were all, except Astorre, in their lodging, and Tobie was occupied in his eternal task of refilling and checking his ointments. Pestilence was the enemy most besieged cities finally fell to, and he and the palace physicians had set out, from the start, to do all that they could to prevent it. With the winds and the heights for their ally, it seemed as if they would. But there was still disease and wounding and death; and few places for burial. Tobie worked long hours, and then talked for release.
It helped him to bait Nicholas, whose denial, he knew, had nothing to do with the admiral’s chances of promotion. Tobie said, “You’re obsessed. It was a joke. No one will hear us.”
“The servants will,” Nicholas said. “And the Venetians. This city is not going to fall to the Turks. There is no danger whatever. And we never speak, even in jest, as if there were. And if I hear you do it again, I’ll make you forcibly sit on your falx. Do you really know about camel diseases?”
“Dysentery, rupture, saddle galls, mange and the flux. Man or beast, I can cure them. Why? You want me in partnership once the Sultan…That,” said Tobie sharply, “was a damned sight too much. Keep your feet to yourself.”
“Then do as I say,” said Nicholas. “Or get kicked.”
A week passed; and the message Nicholas was waiting for came. By then, he was aware, only Astorre was still treating him with his natural irreverence. The others had become guarded, with reason. Godscalc came back that night, tired from his own heavy round of pastoral duties. With most of the Venetians gone, there were few to share his burden among the Latin community; and besides, he gave his services freely, as they were freely accepted, by the suffering of every persuasion.
Nicholas let him sleep the night through, and hold his first mass of the day and then, instead of leaving himself on his rounds, he tapped on the door of the small room that Godscalc, alone of them all, had to himself; because in it was his altar, and there he received those who needed him. Now, when he heard who it was, he crossed and opened the door himself, and stood without speaking. Nicholas said, “I thought to spare you this. I am sorry.”
Godscalc, too, had changed from the big,