Race of Scorpions Read online

  ‘Willingly,’ Nicholas said. ‘When you have given me back two months of my life, and Tzani-bey’s head in a pig trough.’

  The young man Zacco said, ‘Our mothers think we are young and careless, and we do not disabuse them. If I were the child I might seem, I could never have kept friends like Rizzo, or have conquered three-quarters of Cyprus. To do more, I needed your help. I did not want to antagonise you. If I could have had you brought in any other way, I should have done. So far as money and honours can help, those you have. There is a fief in this country which is already paying its rents to your Bank in Venice. As for Tzani-bey, I will not deny it. I sent him to bring you. But do you think, do you imagine I would have him half kill you? That was none of my doing.’

  ‘Then he disobeyed you?’ Nicholas said. The Sicilian stirred.

  ‘What he did, he did without orders,’ said the young man.

  ‘And how do you punish him?’ Nicholas said. ‘For if he disobeys in the field, more than a captive, one supposes, will suffer. Your own power of authority, even, might be questioned.’

  There was silence. Zacco said, ‘Of course. How would you punish him?’

  Nicholas drew a long breath. He said, ‘Every army has its own rules. In mine, he would be publicly flogged and turned off, and his superior degraded for failing to check disobedience.’

  ‘But you would ask his superior first if he had good reason?’ said Zacco.

  ‘If I were not the victim, I might do so,’ Nicholas said.

  The swinging foot in the window had stopped. The young man Zacco held the edge of his seat and considered, the Sicilian knight silently watching him. He returned his gaze to Nicholas. He said, ‘You speak of army customs. But what you were offered was physical abuse and dishonour. Man to man, what does he merit?’

  ‘From me? Death,’ said Nicholas. ‘In fair fight, which he did not give me.’

  A profound silence fell on the room. The Sicilian said nothing, his eyes on his leader. The young man by the window did not move, but Nicholas felt the weight of his eyes, and knew he was being studied and weighed, like the most precious of merchandise. Zacco said, ‘From me, too.’

  Then, for the first time, the swarthy man spoke. ‘My lord King. You can’t do it.’

  ‘I thought not,’ said Nicholas.

  A slam answered him, as Zacco stamped to his feet. ‘You are wrong, and I can.’

  Nicholas said, ‘How many men has he?’

  The man called Rizzo di Marino said, ‘Here, a hundred cavalry and a hundred fantassin. In Egypt, an army that could sweep us all into the sea.’

  Nicholas said, ‘So why doesn’t it do it?’

  The Sicilian looked at the King. The King said, ‘The Sultan Khushcadam is not secure on his throne among the Mamelukes. He has powerful Muslim neighbours – in Persia, the Turcoman prince Uzum Hasan; in Constantinople, the Sultan Mehmet, lord of the Ottoman Turks. Khushcadam parades his friendship for them, but in fact is afraid of them both. Cyprus serves at the moment as a place of exile for his more unruly subjects.’

  Nicholas said, ‘Then who would care if Tzani-bey is punished as he deserves?’

  The King sat down again. He said, ‘First, it would be an affront to Egypt which Egypt could not be seen at present to condone. Secondly, I need the Mamelukes. The Genoese still hold Famagusta. My sister Carlotta and her husband still have their court in Kyrenia. When Kyrenia and Famagusta both fall, the Mamelukes will get what they deserve.’

  Nicholas said, ‘You think Venice will send you an army? Neutral Venice?’ He heard a sound, and saw the Sicilian had moved.

  The King said, ‘I let the Venetians bring you. They have rich holdings here which they don’t want to see destroyed by the Mamelukes, or the Turks, or the Genoese. The Venetians need you in Cyprus as much as I do. At the very least, they are at a loss for skilled managers to replace those who fled when Carlotta left. They want the Genoese driven out. They want the island strongly held against Constantinople, but held by Christians, even if those Christians have to pay tribute to keep Cairo neutral. You have the skills. You have the soldiers. Perhaps you have friends among the Genoese? I confess I do not. Eighty years ago, the Genoese invaded and ravaged this island, and hung its king, my great-grandfather, in a cage. His son had to pawn his crown jewels to pay them. They own Famagusta and rule there like lords. They chose Carlotta’s husband. The Bank of St George and the Knights of St John support Carlotta in all she does. But for the Mamelukes, Genoa would own all of Cyprus: we should be a vassal like Chios.’

  ‘Would you be worse off?’ Nicholas said.

  Zacco said, ‘Ask me that again when I hold Famagusta and Kyrenia, and have ordered the Mamelukes from my shores. This island is rich. We need and cherish our traders. But there can only be one ruler, and that is the Lusignan.’

  ‘I see,’ Nicholas said. ‘But meantime, the Mamelukes may do as they please. Tzani-bey goes free, and you talk of giving me honour?’

  ‘This is not a court of chivalry,’ Zacco said. ‘This is a kingdom, fighting to live. Tzani-bey will be told that he has made a serious error. He will be asked, when next he meets you, to offer you public apology. If you fight for me, you will fight as his equal. As for the reparation: your time will come. Did the Venetians stop Tzani-bey?’

  ‘No more than you did,’ Nicholas said. ‘It is not a court of chivalry, that is certain. I am supposed to fight the Genoese single-handed, for the satisfaction of murdering Tzani-bey at the end?’

  The young man smiled and glanced at his Sicilian commander, who leaned forward. ‘Not single-handed, Messer Niccolò. We have just received news. Your company is in Rhodes.’

  ‘Explain,’ said Nicholas. From head to foot, his body ached.

  The man in the window said, ‘Why be angry? They found you missing after the great victory of Troia. It was natural that they should look to the coast, and find your ship gone. Venice gave all their assistance – Messer Martelli of the Medici; your own lawyer, Messer Gregorio. A galley was found, and your man Astorre took his soldiers on board, with all your chief officers. It has landed at Rhodes.’

  Nicholas didn’t hurry to speak. Two hundred and forty miles to the west, Rhodes was the island home of the Knights of St John, the friends of Carlotta, of Genoa, of the Angevins. Now, it seemed, Astorre and all his army were there. Rushing off to the rescue, and sailing to the wrong place. For, of course, it was Carlotta who was known to be pursuing his services; Thomas would have told Astorre and the rest about Silla. And Carlotta, scouring Europe for money, was as likely to come back to Rhodes as to Cyprus. Likelier, Astorre must have thought. In the end, Nicholas said only, ‘What will happen?’

  The young man said, ‘You have forged a strong bond with your officers. They fear for you. Finding no news in Rhodes, they might well sail for Kyrenia or Famagusta, expecting to find you awaiting Carlotta in Cyprus. If they do, they will be intercepted and killed.’

  ‘By whom?’ Nicholas said.

  ‘By me,’ said the young man in the window. ‘Or of course, should they elude me, by Carlotta. She will know by then that you are in Nicosia with me, and that she cannot rely on them.’

  ‘You will tell her,’ said Nicholas.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zacco. The hazel eyes remained clear. He pushed his hair out of them. He said, ‘These things must be done. I have been as candid with you as I can be. There is nothing you now do not know.’

  Nicholas remembered something. ‘The lady Primaflora?’

  ‘She is with the nuns of the monastery where you left her. The Venetians kept their promise. They want your allegiance. You now know exactly why they want it. You may think that they, too, will not be content to be traders when the Genoese leave, and are building their strength against that day. Perhaps, by then, I shall need them less. I do not know.’ He spoke to Nicholas, but the dark man in the shadows had smiled.

  Nicholas rose, his wounds aching, his muscles ill-fitting and grinding. He said, ‘So what price do I pay for the lives o
f my company?’

  And received, again, the shock that reminded him that he did not know this young, comely man; that he must beware of comparing him with any of the careless, laughter-loving friends from his home. Zacco said, ‘It is not a high price. We face winter: they will not sail just yet, especially as Carlotta is expected in Rhodes. They will wait for her. Therefore, you will send to Rhodes, to say where you are. When it suits you, you will go there. You will tell them all I have told you. If they wish to go home, you will send them home. I shall not stop them. If they wish to come here and fight for me and for you, then I will pay them their full worth and more. But the choice is theirs, and yours. I will tell you this, too. I hope they will come. But my real need is for one man, and that man is you.’

  Nicholas said, ‘And if I choose not to return?’

  Zacco said, ‘I have already told you. For what you have undergone, reparation in rents will be paid, so long as I rule. You will suffer no harm. I shall merely know I was mistaken.’ The hazel eyes gleamed. ‘Despite my friends, I make many mistakes. But still, I trust my senses. Have you heard enough to reach a decision?’

  ‘When do you want my answer?’ said Nicholas.

  ‘When you are ready. You have heard of Marco Corner? He and Giovanni Loredano married sisters. They share a town palace here in Nicosia which other Venetians use: they offer you chambers there, while you consider your decision. It will give you peace, away from the Haute Cour. It will give you time, too, to hear the Venetian side of the dilemma. I think I am being fair?’

  ‘It was the word that sprang to my mind,’ Nicholas said.

  The watching face of the knight remained stern: only the young man threw back a quirk of the mouth that changed slowly to something that was not laughter. Zacco said, ‘Try and come. Try. I need you with me, not against me. I need someone to think far, far ahead. I need another scorpion.’

  ‘I can see that you do,’ Nicholas said.

  Chapter 11

  NICHOLAS FOUND himself with the Venetians the following morning, after a night in the infirmary which restored some of his energy and gave him time for profound thought.

  A speculative temperament was not something he would be credited with. Since he left the shores of Italy, he had been surrounded by men who knew nothing about him but hearsay. But then, even friends of his boyhood would not have been surprised at what had happened. He had been removed without his consent from what he had chosen to do; had objected; had been mishandled; had objected again. He had not been meek, but he had followed from habit his childhood response. Where nothing could be helped except by submitting, he submitted. Except once, in this case, on the journey from Cape Gata to Nicosia, where he had resisted to the end of his powers. On that occasion, however, he had known what was going to happen, whether he resisted or not.

  On the morning he was to leave, Marietta of Patras had come to visit him. She wore a different kerchief, but the whistling voice was the same. He realised, when he stood, that she was above medium height as red-haired Greeks often were. She waved off the seat she was offered. ‘I have no time. My son says you have not immediately joined him? Because of Tzani-bey?’

  ‘Partly,’ Nicholas said. ‘It was not a welcome I should care to repeat.’

  She had ordered him whipped. She had shown neither dismay nor embarrassment on learning her error, and he could detect none now. She had come to say something, and could see no reason to greet him with an apology. ‘If I arrange to have Tzani-bey killed,’ Cropnose said, ‘will you join my son? Bringing your army?’

  ‘Most certainly not,’ Nicholas said. ‘If your son punishes Tzani-bey as he deserves, then I might. Or again, I might not. But if you act without leave of your son, nothing whatsoever will induce me to come.’

  The kerchief, motionless, was a threat in itself. ‘You think my son is more sagacious than I am?’

  Nicholas said, ‘Probably not. But you are not the King-claimant of Cyprus.’

  The kerchief slowly sucked itself hollow, and dropped again. She said at length, ‘So you will go to Carlotta? You have Genoese friends, so I hear. And Portuguese friends. The Duchess of Burgundy is Portuguese. So was Carlotta’s first husband.’

  Nicholas sighed. He said, ‘Madame, I have your son’s undertaking that he will wait for my answer. When I know what it is, I shall give it to him. But I shall tell you this. I will not join Queen Carlotta.’

  The silk snapped like a whip. ‘Queen Carlotta?’

  ‘She is still Queen of Kyrenia,’ Nicholas said. ‘And the Pope calls her Queen. Only Tzani-bey and the Sultan of Cairo allow your son the supreme title. Tzani-bey is worth more to you at present than I am.’

  ‘Yes. I see that,’ she said. ‘And he is a man, who understands men. Go home. This is no place for children.’

  She left without looking round or she would have seen, with satisfaction, that he was unsmiling. Despite this, one profile was pierced by a dimple. In the whole of Cyprus there was no one to guess, as Tobie might have guessed, what that implied.

  The Venetians’ house, when he got there, proved to be an old palace, built in the rich and decadent days when the Latins had come straight from Jerusalem, and brought all their luxury with them. There were warehouses adjoining, and a yard with many crates and two kneeling camels. An ornate marble-flanked gate led to a garden with orange trees and a fountain, at present not functioning. He gave some thought to the best way of leaving his mule, and this done, looked about him and won a small wager with himself. Observing him from an inner balcony was Messer Giovanni Loredano, the young vice-Bailie who had served him food at Cape Gata. Messer Loredano exclaimed, disappeared, and reappeared running from the house door. He stopped just before knocking Nicholas over. ‘My God: what have they done?’

  ‘What they should have done to you,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have an itemised list in my satchel.’ The distress, he thought, was genuine, although several generations of artifice had perfected its expression. He thought, now he had time, that Vanni Loredano looked like nothing so much as a fully articulated model of a Venetian nobleman. He was led indoors, seated, and given excellent wine in a silver cup, quickly. He was in what appeared to be the nave of a cathedral. Loredano, sitting so near in his anxiety that their knees appeared to be touching said, ‘What can I do? What can I say? The Bailie will complain to the Palace tomorrow. Has the King seen how you were treated?’

  Nicholas lay back and let the wine go to his head. He said, ‘Does it matter? I’m leaving.’

  Loredano in turn shifted a little. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Who could blame you? And you will take your men?’

  ‘What men?’ Nicholas said.

  ‘We had word –’ Loredano began. He broke off. He said, ‘I’m sure they told you at the Dominicans’. Your captain and men are at Rhodes.’

  ‘That’s useful,’ Nicholas said. He waited, sipping.

  The other man said, ‘You will be glad to hear that the lady is safe. The lady Primaflora.’

  ‘Where?’ said Nicholas.

  Loredano said, ‘In the south. You were right. It was safest. Since the monastery was in such distress, we lodged her with the Knights of St John at Kolossi.’

  Through his abused and beaten body, a delightful, vinous glow was beginning to spread. Check. Check and check. The night’s internal debate duplicated itself in his mind, with certain premises illuminated the way Colard Mansion illuminated them when he was drunk. Nicholas said, ‘Well, that’s useful too. Carlotta wants her.’

  Check and check. The Venetian said, ‘The Order does not know, it is true, that the lady has left Queen Carlotta, but her presence at Kolossi is only a temporary measure. As you know, she does not wish to return to the Queen. She feels her place is with you.’

  ‘Then she does have a dilemma,’ Nicholas said.

  There followed the sort of silence into which Zacco’s mother Cropnose had fallen. Loredano said, ‘Because of Tzani-bey, you have decided to join Queen Carlotta?’

  ‘My s
oldiers are joining her,’ Nicholas said. ‘Or so I was told.’

  ‘But King James!’ Loredano said. ‘Did he not tell you –?’ He stopped.

  ‘That he would have them all intercepted and killed unless I stayed to fight for him? No, he didn’t. If he made you that promise, he broke it. I,’ Nicholas said, ‘am free to join my army and leave if I please, when I please.’

  They were no longer sitting knee to knee. The Venetian’s broad, suntanned face, brown and flat as a chestnut, had lost its understated veneer. He pushed his cup aside and rose, stepping among the painted chests and gilt stools. He turned, his hands on a ledge. He said, ‘I understand. You are entitled to do this. We deserve it. But the issues are momentous, and not only for us, the traders. Not only for Venice. But I do need to know one thing. I believe that Zacco has left you a free agent, although I can’t understand why. So will you go to Carlotta?’

  ‘Would I have come here and let you kill me if I intended it?’ Nicholas said. ‘And of course, you have Primaflora. You only have to tell the Knights that she had betrayed Carlotta, and they would see that the Queen got to know of it.’

  ‘Does that matter to you?’ said Loredano. On his smooth face was real surprise.

  ‘You thought it didn’t?’ Nicholas said. ‘Then you sent her to Kolossi for other reasons. I’m sure the Knights, for example, have no idea that Venetians brought her. Of course not. Queen Carlotta’s household has nothing to do with Venetians. So she was muffled going ashore, and I was muffled. So that, when I appear at Kolossi, I can pass for one of Queen Carlotta’s men too. Unless, of course, my inconvenient army appears …’

  Nicholas paused. The brown gaze of the Venetian appeared mesmerised. Nicholas wondered what the man had expected. From what they had seen of him on shipboard, perhaps not very much. He resumed his exposition, which was giving him some enjoyment. ‘For you didn’t expect Captain Astorre and his friends to follow so quickly, did you? And especially, you didn’t foresee that he would guess wrong, and try to follow me to the wrong side. But still, it gave King Zacco a weapon to force me to join him. And since he chose not to use it, you will now have to fall back on your second weapon: the girl, which I have just presented you with. And if that doesn’t work: if, despite all my protestations I really don’t care a hoot for the lady, there is the best lure of all: the Venetian franchises. You are factor for the Episkopi sugar estates.’