The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [270]
Nicholas had. Tobie watched him as he stared down at Doria’s body, its elegance marred by the blood soaking into his doublet and pooling the floor. His head was turned sideways and his eyes were open, looking from one face to another. He tried to speak, but only scarlet bubbles burst from his throat. Nicholas lifted his eyes to where Noah stood. It seemed to Tobie that there passed an unspoken question. If so, there was no spoken reply. In the pretty, dark face there was no vestige now of love or of anguish: only the bitterest pride. Noah turned on his heel and, bearing himself like a king, took his place beside Mahmud his master. And Pagano Doria, dying, turned his eyes up to Nicholas and smiled suddenly, triumphantly, full in his face.
By then Tobie, freed, was bending over him, however uselessly. He knelt back slowly, and spoke with his hands. “No. He is going.” No one had questioned that Doria had been attempting to threaten them. The Turks would assume, he supposed, Doria had betrayed himself in some way, and feared he would be exposed. There was no one except Noah to tell them the truth. And Noah had chosen his part.
Nicholas stood at Doria’s side, without moving. Tursun Beg bent over and picked up the bloodied dagger and said. “It is curious. This is the merchant’s own knife, with his name on it. And here is another strapped to his person, just like it.”
“You say?” said Mahmud Pasha. “Then it should be given to friend Ayyub for the protection of his master the doctor. We are, it seems, to lose our two guests. There is camel sickness in the south, and the lady Sara Khatun has begged that these men might return to the tribe. The Sultan, in his clemency, has released them.”
Doria’s throat whistled. He had heard. He probably heard, Tobie thought, all that was happening, but of course was unable to speak. Witness at his own deathbed. Silent; unable to denounce, or to charm. Presently the Grand Vizier nodded and left; and Tursun Beg with the Janissaries followed him. Tobie bowed, and remained where he was, standing still. When the last spectator had gone, Nicholas changed position abruptly and, moving forward, sank to crouch at the dying man’s side.
He stayed there till the end, his eyes on Doria, and Doria’s on him, with only Tobie to watch them. Tobie and a dark unspeaking shadow behind him. Three strange companions for a roving sea prince with the world at his feet. Yet although Doria owed them his death, it seemed to Tobie that, at the end, he drew comfort from them.
By early afternoon, the camel doctor and his help had left the Sultan’s encampment. The public leave-taking had been vigorous if one-sided; and the private one in the princess’s tent had been brief. She said, “You saw, then, what you came to see. Nothing could have altered this outcome.”
Nicholas said, “Your niece is a princess of Trebizond. So was your late husband’s mother.”
Today, Sara Khatun showed her age; and the lines under her eyes were almost as deep as the kohl. She said, “John Comnenos said to my son, ‘Be my ally.’ And my son Uzum Hasan said, ‘I shall be, for payment of this land and your niece as my bride.’ The Sultan has the land, and the Emperor David may have back his niece if he wishes. You think that, without me and without George Amiroutzes, the Emperor would have acted any differently?”
There was a long silence. Then Nicholas said, “No.”
“No,” she agreed. “You have come far, for an apprentice; but you are not yet of the quality to force an emperor to your will. For a while, perhaps, you even thought that you were. It is as well to learn these things young. Now you have your men to look to.”
“I shall do that,” said Nicholas.
He made no excuses. Perhaps because of it, the Khatun’s gaze softened. She said, “If you never strive, you will never be injured. This will pass. If I and others like me had not weighed your merits, we should not have done what we have done. You will return a rich man, and lay at your wife’s feet what is even greater than wealth;