The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [250]
As for Erizzo, Nicholas had formed a respect for him and his pretty daughter. Nicholas held all Venetians in respect; especially Fiorenza, wife of Marco Corner, sugar-planter, who had presented him with some choice candied fruit. The agent had produced a similar box, just a moment ago, but Nicholas had felt he must regretfully refuse. He made to take his leave, having learned as much as he could, and having conveyed what he wanted.
The agent said, ‘But my lord will come again, and spend longer? There are many friends who wish to be remembered to you. Perhaps they might tempt you to visit Cyprus yourself?’
‘It seems unlikely. I am not staying in Alexandria,’ Nicholas said. ‘Although I admit I have a great curiosity about one thing.’
‘Yes? Yes?’ said the Consul. They were standing. He was a short man of Cypriot blood: what they called a White Venetian.
Nicholas said, ‘I had always dreamed that one day I might possess a parrot as beautiful as the one belonging to the King’s illustrious lady mother. Is the bird still alive?’
The Consul’s lips parted. ‘Madame Marietta’s parrot?’
‘A red-and-blue parrot. It stood by her chair.’
‘I know it,’ said the man. He looked simply surprised. He said, ‘A magnificent bird, I agree. Indeed, I agree. But it is no longer there.’
‘It died?’ said Nicholas sorrowfully.
The agent smiled. ‘I fear it has gone through a gate as difficult to unlock as that of death. It was presented by the lady Marietta to a convent.’
‘A convent?’
‘Well, a lodging. A house serving some property of the Franciscan monks between Nicosia and Famagusta.’
‘Not Psimoloso?’ said Nicholas. ‘I should have guessed. I should not, of course, dream of depriving the good friars of their pet. Think no more of it. And now I must go.’
The Consul accompanied him to the door. He said, looking outside, ‘You have a good guard? Is that all your guard? You have no attendants of your own?’
He had three servants, which was enough, along with the Mamelukes. The Consul said, ‘But you should have more. The Emir knows. He should have provided you with more men. It is in his own interest.’
‘More men against what?’ Nicholas said.
The Consul looked up with what appeared to be genuine alarm. ‘You did not get my special message last week? About the sister of Tzani-bey al-Ablak?’
‘About Tzani-bey’s sister?’ Nicholas said.
‘She who paid an assassin to attempt the life of our King. The man failed. But it is said that she holds you, too, responsible for the death of her brother in Cyprus. Here perhaps you may think yourself safe. But be careful. And if you leave the city, guard yourself every moment,’ said the Consul. His face was full of sincere anxiety. ‘I cannot understand it, monseigneur. I left you a message. M. Pierre said he would give you it himself. You must know him. M. Pierre de Persis, the Genoese Consul.’
‘Yes, I know him,’ Nicholas said.
His hand ached. He visited the baths every morning to drive the stiffness away from his shoulders and neck. It didn’t matter. He had found the ship. It was coming. Very soon, Anselm Adorne would be here.
Chapter 35
RUNNING BEFORE A summer storm, the ship containing Anselm Adorne, Baron Cortachy, and his companions reached Alexandria on the afternoon of Tuesday the seventeenth of July. At the entrance to the foreigners’ harbour, she was thrown into a passage choked with classical marble from the great tumbled lantern. The vessel struck the stone twice, the shock nearly springing her planks and throwing all the exhausted passengers to the deck. Recovering, she made her way into the haven at last, and took her place half a mile from the shore. The customs boat conducted its usual search.
It also brought orders. Until the following morning, no one must land or receive friends or consuls on board. No explanation was given.
However disappointed and weary they felt, the newcomers did receive some sort of welcome. Regardless of nation,