To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [321]
By then, Andrea Corner himself had entered the house, his eyes questioning his sister by marriage. The princess shrugged. The Auditor said, ‘This seems strange. However. Pray ask his lordship to come when he can. I am afraid we must leave.’
Tobie watched him ride off. You could hear the barking of hounds in the distance, and then the clatter of a large cavalcade. Alonse said, ‘Sir, I cannot understand it. He did not call me to dress, or to pay his respects to the household, or to find him a mount. Every other lord will have his man at his side.’
‘I think,’ Tobie said, ‘that perhaps discretion is necessary. His lordship may have had an assignation, and has lost count of time. No one saw him leave the main gates?’
‘There was an unlocked postern,’ said Alonse. ‘The lady Violante has asked me to list for her all those houses where he has friends. She has already sent servants running. She fears an accident.’
‘Or she wants to know where he has friends,’ Tobie said. His resentment against Nicholas grew. Cyprus was painful to him, as it ought to be to Nicholas. Trouncing the Vatachino wasn’t reason enough to come back; nor was some self-deluding fantasy of reconstructing his friendship with Zacco. What had happened that morning was typical of the unpleasant stew of lust and intrigue that he remembered from other times.
It was only astonishing that wherever Nicholas was, he wasn’t with Zacco. Nor with any of the Venetians, from Andrea Corner and Marco Bembo to the lesser merchants; nor with any of the principal Catalans; nor even with David de Salmeton and the beautiful Nerio. All of these were with Zacco, gone hunting. Which left Tobie alone with Violante of Naxos.
It had been his intention to walk round the town, and see if there was anyone left whom he knew. He found himself instead keeping company with the princess, who retained him in desultory conversation which ceased at each sound of a step. Studying her, he made note that this morning her movements were languid, and her skin was lax under the paint. He knew the signs: he was a doctor, and far from a eunuch. Zeno, of course, was in Persia. So, Nerio? Or …?
Or the owner of the rich brocade doublet which had lost, as Alonse had informed him with horror, one of its fine ruby studs overnight?
No wonder she was uneasy.
So when had Nicholas left the house? After he left her, but in darkness, since no one had seen him. And not, then, for a woman. For an assignation of a different kind, which the Venetians knew nothing about.
Close to noon, when there was still no news of Nicholas and the streets were emptying in the heat, Tobie made an excuse to retire and, making his way from the house, went to find the villa occupied by Hadji Mehmet.
The heavy Turcoman listened, his hands motionless on his robes, the black rim of his beard glistening damp in the heat. At the end he said, ‘It was your lord’s intention to hunt. The King also expected it.’
‘So did the Auditor,’ Tobie said. ‘And the Bailie. And the stables had prepared horses for him, at the instance of Rizzo di Marino.’ He paused. ‘One knows that the King’s lady mother has certain plans, from time to time, which she does not make immediately known.’
‘She has no knowledge of this,’ the Turcoman said. ‘In fact, you will find that her own servants are making enquiries. Nicosia is a city of simple thieves as well as hired killers. A man may be robbed for his sword, and then left in a well or a sewer.’
‘He was wearing a sword?’ Tobie said.
‘Does any wise man walk at night time without one?’
‘Tell me,’ said Tobie.
‘I do not know where he is,’ said Hadji Mehmet. ‘I shall suggest to you that he was abroad some three hours before dawn, and on his way back to your villa, a walk of no more than five minutes. To remove him in that short space of time and in silence would be the work of several men.’
Tobie felt cold. He said, ‘So not a robbery. An attack by hirelings of someone