The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [357]
The child, of course, he could not reach, knowing nothing of it. All he knew was that it was his, and alive, and a son. Two years ago, he would have perjured his soul for that knowledge. Now he could hardly assimilate it, his anxiety was so great. He had broken his pact with the Patriarch. He had been wrong.
At some hour during the night, Tobie thumped his shoulders. ‘Sit up. You’ll set your hair alight, and burn your papers all over again.’
He had brought a cup. After a certain argument they had had, the cup was strictly regulated, to yield so much sleep and no more. There was no time to waste. Margot had not come, and could not be found. Neither could Gelis. And the next day was Tuesday the twenty-sixth day of February. Martedi Grasso, the last, the most joyous day of the Carnival, when the lords of the night watch are blind, and nothing is outlawed but grief.
He was nowhere near his maps, in the end, when the power struck as suddenly and as sickeningly as it had that first time in the Tyrol, when he had been thrown to the ground amid images of water and fire. On this occasion it drew fewer eyes, occurring when, after a morning of festival ritual, the guests of the Doge and the Signoria had crowded into the Senate Hall to witness a spectacle. Miniature castles had been built on the floor and a score of scarlet-clad Senators were attacking them. Nicholas abruptly ceased watching.
Tobie, nearest to Nicholas, saw the shock run through his body. He rose. Gregorio, not far away, noticed and began to come over. The men about them, jovial in liquor, cheering on the performance, paid no attention. Tobie said, ‘What?’ and touched Nicholas on the shoulder. He was shaking, and had buried his head in his hands.
Tobie said, ‘Come,’ and put a hand under his arm. Then Nicholas straightened and, guided by Tobie, got out of the room. Gregorio, following, saw that both John le Grant and Father Moriz had noticed: he shook his head at them, and they stayed. Julius had observed nothing.
Outside, Nicholas said, ‘I am sorry.’ The Piazzetta milled with men as richly dressed as themselves; even his pallor was not unremarkable in a city where, for the moment, licence ruled and dissipation was the norm. Nicholas said clearly, ‘They are both here,’ and turned to Gregorio. ‘Gelis, and Margot. But not together.’
Until he saw Gregorio’s face, even Tobie had not understood the extent of his anguish. Now Gregorio said, ‘How can you know? Nicholas? How can you know?’
‘Look at him,’ was all Tobie said. He let Nicholas go. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘I am sorry,’ said Nicholas again. His eyes were still on Gregorio. ‘I have to go back to the Casa.’
‘To use your maps?’ Tobie said. ‘Or one of them is there?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nicholas said. ‘But Gelis is nearer.’ Unexpectedly, he caught both of Gregorio’s hands and set them violently on his own shoulders, covering them with his palms. Gregorio’s eyes were alarmed. Nicholas said, ‘I need to know Margot as well as you do. Can you transmit anything, or take anything from me?’ He was becoming whiter and whiter.
Gregorio pulled his hands away. He said, ‘No. You are losing too much. If you can reach Gelis, that’s enough.’ He was almost as pale as Nicholas. He repeated Tobie’s words. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘Don’t ask,’ Tobie said. ‘I was wrong. The boat will be quickest.’ The crowd was so thick that it took an effort to push through to the landing-stage. He had thought at first that Nicholas was going to faint, and then saw that he had given himself some sort of respite; as if he had had the sense to detach himself somehow from whatever had him in its grip. He waited patiently until they found the barchetta,