The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [255]
In the end, Tobie set out to find him. The gates were locked. Nicholas de Fleury must be within the confines of the fondaco. He began with the roof, and worked down.
Nicholas heard him come over the grass. He heard because he was lying on it, his shoulders and head supported by the trunk of a tree. He supposed that, if he had asked him, Tobie would have explained that wine after abstinence doesn’t necessarily result in oblivion. He stayed because he felt too delicate to move, but without much hope that Tobie would pass him. He felt Tobie kneel, and opened his eyes. Tobie said, ‘Umar is dead.’
Nicholas said, ‘Oh, yes. But we knew that already.’
‘Now you can accept it,’ said Tobie.
‘Now I know the details, yes. It is a great step forward,’ said Nicholas. His stomach knotted and he told it to unknot.
Tobie said, ‘I’m sorry. It was bad, then. I’m sorry. Do you want to tell me?’
The words became lost, in some fashion. Some time later, Tobie repeated them. He appeared now to be sitting beside him. Nicholas said, ‘I’m sorry. Something I drank.’ The wind had risen again but it was very warm, and the trees tossed against the twinkling windows of the fondaco. The spray from the fountain, blowing across, was quite pleasant. He made an effort and thought about Tobie. Then he remembered. He said, ‘So did you see Gelis? You didn’t bring her, I hope. She might go home and never try to come back again.’ He thought the idea vaguely funny and smiled.
Time passed. The words hung about, and when he next came to himself they were still there. He said irritably, ‘Well? What about Gelis?’
Tobie was on his other side this time. Tobie said, ‘Hold my arm. I’m going to lift you up and take you to bed.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Nicholas. ‘You’re not as pretty as Zacco.’ He stayed where he was. ‘What about Gelis?’
‘She’s all right,’ said Tobie. ‘Look, get up. You can’t stay here all night, and I want some sleep if you don’t.’
She’s all right. Would anyone, placed as Tobie was, use that offhand phrase to speak about Gelis? Nicholas said, ‘Why are you lying?’
Tobie was silent. Then he said, ‘Come upstairs.’
‘No.’ All at once, it was easy to be sober. Nicholas said, ‘Tell me. Now.’ He reared up like a dyeframe triangle: spine braced, palms between rigid knees.
Tobie knelt back on his heels. He said, ‘She isn’t here. She changed her mind and took the galley from Venice.’
Nicholas remembered. He released his hands and placed them on either side on the grass. He said, ‘The party who wanted places on the Ascension Day boats?’ He was surprised, but relieved. The galley had arrived safely at Jaffa: the Consul had said so. He said, ‘So where did she go?’
Saying it, he recalled the contradictory impression he had received from Tobie’s first words. He said, a little more sharply, ‘Shouldn’t she be here by now?’
Tobie said, ‘Come upstairs.’
Nicholas looked at him.
When Tobie did not speak, Nicholas said, ‘You have told me. Now tell me the rest.’ Every physical complaint had gone. Everthing had gone, except hearing.
Tobie said, ‘The galley arrived safely at Jaffa, but had been forced to stay at sea because of the war. Her food and water were tainted, and illness broke out, and spread. Forty-nine pilgrims died on the way. Among them were the three who had been with Adorne: the Duke of Burgundy’s chaplain, the monk from Furnes, the merchant Colebrant from Bruges, and a fourth who joined them late, whose name was not recorded, but whose wedding ring was brought ashore with all the rest of the luggage.’
He paused, and then said, ‘It bore your name and hers. It was all there was. Those who perished were all buried at sea.’
The fountain wakened him, or the unyielding stone under his cheek. The cold was so great he was shaking. He said, ‘They rescued an earl and a bishop.’
Someone beside him said, ‘There were survivors. One day, you will hear the whole story. Not now.’
Nicholas said, ‘I must go.’
The voice said, ‘There is nowhere to go.