The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [59]
Seduced from his difficult duties, the Bailie gave the Genoese his cordial attention. It left Nicholas stranded, Godscalc saw. The talk had turned to high social tattle, and Nicholas had no social experience.
Lesser officers could chat to each other, and the men from the Doria fell into conversation soon enough with their opposite numbers. Godscalc watched; wondering if Nicholas would give up and join them. Doria was saying, “All the Sultan does, we are told, is favour his own sex, which could be a tactical advantage. Does the Emperor realise it? Are his envoys too plain?” He broke off. “Alas! I think I have shocked Messer Niccolò! Would you be wise to turn back? My dear fellow: one glance at your handsome notary, and Mehmet will go mad.”
Julius opened his mouth. “That’s why I brought him,” said Nicholas. “My lord Bailie, forgive me. You and Messer Pagano must be weary of discussing the Sultan. But I see a ship from Rhodes in the harbour. I wondered if you had anything recent to tell us?”
Wrenched from his pleasant diversion, the Bailie thought, on reflection, that he might as well pass on his news. If it brought the evening to a premature end, his guest had no one to blame but himself. He said, “Of course. I had thought to leave serious matters till later but…By all means, let it be now, if you wish. The ship you saw did bring news. It seems to be true. It affects us all. It is better, I fear, for me than for you. My lord Pagano, this is new to you also.”
Doria turned his head sharply.
“About the Turk?” Nicholas said.
The Bailie looked at him. He was not an unfeeling man. He said carefully, “You know about this young Sultan. He builds an empire. Today he is concerned to drive the Greeks and the Serbs from the northern part of his lands. Tomorrow he will look to the south, to Asia Minor, where his lands are at present surrounded. Part is occupied by the Empire of Trebizond, which pays him tribute already. In the rest, he is baulked by powerful tribes. The rival Turcomans of the Black and White Hordes and their princes. The Sultan of Karamania. The emir of Sinope. The Christian princes of Georgia, Mingrelia. Many of these are uniting against him. Many are allied in marriage. Some of them have envoys in Europe, with Fra Ludovico da Bologna. You have met him.”
Pagano Doria said, “And, my lord, you think the Turk is about to cross into Asia?”
“I ought to rejoice,” the Bailie said. “What has occurred will divert his attention from the Morea. But it is nevertheless a tragedy created only by laziness, vanity, ignorance.”
“What happened?” said Nicholas.
The Bailie placed his fingers together. He said, “Perhaps the Emperor of Trebizond expected too much from his alliances; his appeals to the West. He had sent to the Pope. He had sent to Philip of Burgundy, promising to make him King of Jerusalem. There has been no time, of course, for any response. But the Emperor thought enough of his prospects, it seems, to withhold his annual tribute to the Sultan. Instead of paying his three thousand pieces of gold, he sent to Constantinople demanding remission. Unwisely, he entrusted the message to men who were already armed with a demand of their own. Not a demand: a deliberate insult. He used the envoys of his niece’s husband, the Persian prince Uzum Hasan.”
“A powerful man,” Nicholas said. The priest looked at him.
“His envoys think so,” said the Bailie. “The envoys of Uzum Hasan went to Constantinople and committed their madness. They announced that the Emperor of Trebizond wished to pay no more tax. I doubt if they were tactful. Then they told Sultan Mehmet that their own prince