To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [124]
‘I have heard nothing of it,’ said Jan.
‘You will, in a matter of weeks. Three of them are to be sent abroad to seek help against the Grand Turk. Caraffa will lead the papal fleet in the spring. Ask my lord Bessarion, if you doubt me. He is going to France.’
‘And Cardinal Barbo?’ said Jan. He was merely thankful that, minute by minute, he was achieving answers, and controlling the heave of his guts.
‘Cardinal Barbo leaves for Germany, Hungary and Poland with the smallest of retinues. He has sent you a letter, to explain and express his regrets. Had his uncle survived, no doubt he would have found you a post. He is a good man: you would have benefited from it.’
‘He will be away a long time?’ said Jan.
‘How long will it take to stir the Emperor Frederick to war?’ said the Patriarch. ‘An aeon, do you think? And Barbo will get no quick answer from Poland, nor much of a welcome from the King Casimir’s friend Buonaccorsi, whose conspiracies threatened his late uncle’s life. Although, to be sure, Zacco sheltered the miscreant, and Sixtus might give him an amnesty. But no. There will be no quick return for Marco Barbo. You must look for employment elsewhere.’
‘I have no other prospects,’ said Jan.
‘You have the Bishop of St Andrews,’ Julius said. His voice was a mixture of reproof and surprise. ‘A Scot, a friend of your family, pledged to a long sojourn in Rome. Surely it is ideal? You cannot wish to go home, to watch your father grow poor, losing ground to the Banco di Niccolò; to find your mother inattentive, and busy with napkins and milk.’
‘Indeed, you must not fly from Rome.’ It was the voice of Nerio, sweetly appealing. ‘Now all your friends have discovered you. The great Nicholas himself must surely come one of these days.’
‘I hope he does,’ Jan said loudly. Suddenly, all his squeamishness was replaced by anger. He turned and looked at them: the winsome face of the Greek with its glittering eyes; the slanting eyes and curled lip of Julius, whom he had begun to think of as an ally. And lastly, at the brooding, powerful person of the Franciscan, watching him narrowly. It was to the Franciscan he spoke.
‘Is this how you treat a man who has walked through the desert; who has given his time and his strength to visit the Holy Places, only for the reverence of God? Is this how you treat a man coming to serve Christ in His City, however poor, however inept he may be?’
He turned on Julius. ‘You pretend that Nicholas is a match for my father. I know what is happening. I know what my father is doing. We are laughing at you, the Vatachino as well. You were relying on your new ship from Danzig? You will never get it. Who do you think has delayed it?’
He turned back to the Patriarch. ‘Why do you waste time on Nicholas and his henchmen and their catamites? I went to the Holy Land for my faith. He went for gold and for commerce, and broke every promise he made about lending his help to the East. Such a man can never succeed. Already we have usurped his printers. Caxton in Cologne is undoing all that he planned with the Hanse. My father has kinsmen, colleagues, contacts all through the Levant; the Knights of Rhodes know what they owe us. My father can call on all such help, and the loyalty of his own town of Bruges, and the high regard and respect of the Duke. What is the Banco di Niccolò?’
‘Catamite?’ Nerio said. ‘Does Nicholas have a catamite?’
‘He is talking rubbish,’ Julius said. ‘He is angry with his father – I can understand it – and with himself for having to defend him. Anyway, Jan himself prefers girls. Nerio should know.’
‘It must seem a strange taste,’ said Jan. He was still speaking loudly. The Cardinal, glancing over, could be