The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [93]
On reflection, he saw that no man, fearing plague, would risk his life on the word of a Genoese; even a Genoese already commended for the delicacy of his presents. Even the presents, as it turned out, had been useless. In the delightful game he and this young man were playing, it seemed that he had lost the skirmish of Constantinople. He only hoped, as he made for the stairs, that the foolish child had not ruined the end-game.
To Catherine, shivering with cold and fear and excitement at the top of the steps, this final delay was inexcusable. Pagano, having seen her, chose to stay talking below. She saw her manservant there, spoiling her news. Telling the wrong story, even. She called his name, high and sharp as a whistle, before she saw he had stopped speaking and was moving quickly towards her. He looked anxious, and she began to relent. When she felt the desperation of his embrace, she even forgave him. He held her off and looked at her. “Not here, but tell me inside. Are you all right? Did he harm you? If only I had been here! And those fools let him in?”
She told it all in her chamber, in the comfort of his arms, while he stroked her hair gently. At the end, he said, “What a husband am I, to expose you to that. What if he had tried to abduct you? He might do it still!” His arm tightened.
“Not now,” said Catherine. “He was ashamed, when I told him what our marriage was like. He said he hoped I was happy, and left.”
“The insolence!” said Pagano. “As if it were any business of his! And to force his way to your bedroom while your husband was gone. He was afraid to meet me.”
Catherine pondered. “He said he couldn’t stay long, because the ship had just come in. He said he wanted to meet you; but then someone brought a message and they both left. Pagano?”
“Yes, sweeting,” he said. He smelt of salt, and the perfume he used for important audiences. She had forgotten to ask him about the Grand Vizier. She said, “It isn’t true that Master Julius is going to be killed? They said you had something to do with it, but of course I told them you hadn’t.”
Pagano smiled into her hair. “Your mother’s notary? Is it likely, my darling? No, of course no one on board the Ciaretti is going to be killed. It was only some sort of trick. He is an amusing young man, your mother’s husband, when he isn’t frightening my Caterinetta. But perhaps he will take your word for it now. You are happy and safe and protected, and he can go back to Bruges.”
Until Nicholas himself had said otherwise, she, too, had thought she was going to lose him. It would have displeased her. She had nothing to fear, now, from Nicholas. She wished very much to hear what her husband would say to Nicholas the next time they met. She said, “Oh, he’s still going to Trebizond. He has his mind bent on trade and making money, you know. He doesn’t know any better.” She caught her husband’s hand in both her own. “I’m a trouble to you, Pagano. Bringing Nicholas after me. And now he’s caught up, and you won’t get to the Black Sea much before him.”
“Wait and see,” said Pagano, and kissed her. When he excused himself a little later, she let him go, because she could see they had to sail soon, and she and her women had the hateful packing to see to.
He came to bed late and tired, but still able to please her for a little. They were to sail the next day after noon. She lay awake long after he had fallen asleep, thinking of all that had happened. Then she slept very soundly, and was wakened by the dawn light and a short, quiet sound which (rarely heard) was Pagano swearing.
He was standing, handsome and naked, in the cold of the open window. She lay in drowsy felicity and contemplated him. To make him turn, she said softly, “What is it?”
In the faint light, she couldn