To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [330]
Julius was not with them. Crackbene had beaten his ship into Rhodes to find that Julius had left the island three days before, embarked empty-handed for Venice and Germany. Anna his wife had gone with him.
‘Germany?’ Nicholas had repeated.
‘Well, someone had better be there, if you want to know what Duke Charles will do next. And the lady Anna could help; she’s a German.’ Crackbene had been in a bad temper.
They sailed into Venice on Saturday, the seventh day of August, after a voyage in which Nicholas had been uncommunicative throughout, except when he had been required to repeat, yet again, the news of Cyprus. Sometimes Tobie did it for him, experiencing always the same disbelief and despair. Approaching Venice, he found to his dismay that they were bringing evil tidings to a Republic already in mourning: their stuttering Doge, just two years in office, had died.
For themselves, Tobie did not know what to expect. He shrank from the reunion with Gelis and the child, and with Gregorio and his little family. He remembered that the nurse, that self-opinionated termagant, would be there.
Through the heat of June and July, Jodi had made Venice his playground, while his mother waited, and worked. Then Julius had come, bronzed and smooth with contentment, and brought his black-haired Anna, wed but unchanged, with her light, pointed wit and amiable manner. She played with Jodi, and spoke to Mistress Clémence of her own daughter, left in Cologne. When it was time for Julius and Anna to leave, Gelis almost shared Margot’s regret.
A little time later, a fast ship swept into the San Marco Basin by night and, dropping anchor, put ashore a man in a hurry, who went straight to the black-mantled Palace. By morning the galley had gone. On the surface, nothing had changed; but Gregorio came late from the Rialto that day and, instead of joining the family, went at once to the counting-house. Returned at length, he could only explain that the Bourse was uneasy, no one could quite say why. It was a question of waiting.
As once before, Gregorio himself was on the Rialto when the ship he was hoping for was signalled into the Basin. This one did not come under cover of darkness but anchored for all to see, flying two flags: the emblem of the Order of the Unicorn from its mizzen, and from its mainmast, the standard of the Order of the Sword, in the position of mourning.
The Bank’s boat was already tied by the Bridge. Gregorio used it to sweep down the Canal and out to the anchorage while Nicholas was still on board with the officials who had come out to greet him. Tobie heard the lawyer’s hail and met him at the companionway. He looked sick.
Gregorio said, ‘What has happened?’ He looked about for Nicholas.
‘The King is dead. Long live the Queen,’ said Nicholas from behind him. He looked worse than sick: he looked unfriendly. He added, ‘I have to go to the Senate. Wait for me, if you like. Mick and Tobie will tell you what has happened. Is Julius here?’
‘No. They’ve gone to Augsburg. Nicholas –’
‘Yes?’ said Nicholas, stopping.
‘Were you there?’
‘Everyone was there,’ Nicholas said.
The news, passing from throat to throat, reached the Ca’ Niccolò long before Gregorio returned with the travellers. Margot brought it to Gelis where she stood on the balcony overlooking the water.
‘Nicholas is back, safe and well. They’ve just sailed in. Apparently Gregorio went down to meet them.’ She saw that Jodi was there, sitting at the feet of his nurse. She said, smiling, ‘Ton papa est en retour.’ Mistress Clémence was looking elsewhere.
Gelis said, ‘Nicholas!’
‘Sooner than he expected,’ said Margot. She looked from Gelis to the nurse and back again. Mistress Clémence returned her attention to Jodi. Margot said slowly, ‘They’re saying that Zacco has died.’
‘Oh,’ said Gelis. Then she said, ‘That explains the uneasy market. The news must have reached the Collegio already.’
‘They say he was poisoned,’ Margot said.
‘But they didn’t blame