To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [320]
Nicholas said, ‘The King should have married the lady Margaret of Denmark. So what do you fear?’
There was a silence. The King’s mother said, ‘My son’s child will be born in eight weeks. Whoever holds it, holds the future.’
She looked at him, and the veil blew with the force of her breathing. ‘It is my intention to take the child when it is born, and hold it securely. And it is my wish that all who love the King gather round him on the day of his fatherhood, for I believe that his life thereafter will be in danger.’
‘It is always in danger,’ Zacco said. ‘But it is true. We need friends.’
‘You are asking me to stay until August?’ Nicholas said.
‘Eight weeks,’ Zacco said. ‘You are a merchant, of no single faction. You hear everything. So does David. Perhaps you are rivals in business, but you I trust, and David’s self-interest I trust. The Vatachino reaped all the profits which you threw away: my life means money to them. He may of course try to harm you, and you may be frightened. In which case, run away.’
‘Like the wild cow,’ said Nicholas, and the King gave a snort.
‘What of the wild cow?’ the King’s mother said.
‘The bonasus,’ said her son cheerfully. ‘They say that in running away, it emits a fart that covers three acres and can set a forest on fire. Nikko means he is staying.’
‘I am glad,’ said the lady dryly. Nicholas expected no more; he knew Marietta of Patras from many encounters. She was not loved. She was feared; and the island called her Cropnose. But her son had come to manhood, and was ruling with vigour and courage, for all his mistakes.
Nicholas understood Zacco and his mother and the beliefs by which they ruled. One did not live by looking back with regret. Self-rebuke was a weakness: if one took a wrong turning and a man or a family died, it couldn’t be mended. But here in Cyprus there was something he could do that seemed right: something he could achieve here in limbo, cut off from all the other fruits of his labours until he should go back, and find it ready for harvesting.
He took his leave, in due course. Hadji Mehmet had already left, having excused himself diplomatically from the hunt Zacco had announced for the morning. For this morning. For a time only an hour or two hence. Nicholas was to take part, since his gifts, after all, were on trial. He would not exactly be fresh. But then neither would Zacco.
The King saw him to the door and he slipped out into the darkness, as presently the King himself would depart for the Palace. Nicholas had no fear for Zacco: he was disguised, and was expert with his sword.
He did not think of himself.
Chapter 44
WHEN THE twenty-seventh day of June dawned, it was not at once obvious that Nicholas de Fleury was missing.
The King, usually quick to rise for a hunt, had decreed a later departure, with tents and horses and food sufficient for an expedition of more than one day. He proposed to cover the terrain towards Famagusta, some thirty miles to the east.
Tobie, breaking his fast in a leisurely way, wished him well of it, and Nicholas too. He was happy to be unwanted. Mick Crackbene was still at Famagusta with the ship, and all his mates from the past. He could join in if he wanted.
He assumed Nicholas had risen, dressed and gone to the Palace. It was not until the Auditor’s steward came to the door that Tobie realised that his fellow traveller had not arrived there, and that his chamber was empty. Then they were joined by the lady Violante, her face frowning and pale and, it transpired, equally baffled. Alonse, questioned, could only say that he did not know at what hour his lordship had left, but that he had worn plain leather dress, fit for hunting, and that his sword and scabbard were gone. He had taken no horses.
‘Ours were tired. He would expect to borrow or hire them,’ said Tobie. ‘The same with