Authors: Dorothy Dunnett
‘Wait a moment,’ Nicholas said. ‘Paúeli? Paúel Benecke? I made no arrangement with him. I wasted a whole bloody winter trying to get him to say where you were, and the bastard sailed off without telling me. I’d never have known, except that his daughter wanted to spite him, and told someone.’ He stopped and drew breath. ‘You’ve been talking to Benecke?’
‘We communicate,’ said the Spaniard coldly. ‘Yes, he sails the vulgar Baltic, where a real seaman prefers the great Middle Sea, but there are rivers between. Messages pass. I am Catalan; I do not always sail galleys; I know the Western Ocean as your friend Crackbene does; as you do. We all know that the Portuguese hold on the gold trade has weakened. With the
Peter
there is nothing we could not do, given the gold to finance the voyage.’
‘To Africa,’ Nicholas said.
‘You are slow,’ Ochoa said. ‘The love nest with the pretty woman has made you slow. I tell you, keep to your plan. Go back to Caffa tomorrow. But excuse yourself from your trip to the south. Collect the gold. And then put it to use. What better way is there to spend the rest of your life than at sea, in a venture with seamen?’
‘I see,’ Nicholas said. He fell into silence. Ochoa drank, occasionally missing his mouth with the flask. Muffled, from behind the closed door
came the somersaulting notes of a guitar, and high voices giggling, and the occasional hoarse shout.
Nicholas said, ‘There is a month to decide. I have to go back to Caffa, but I shall pay for your keep in Soldaia, or wherever you think you will be safe. If and when I go for the gold, I shall tell you.’
‘My dear, of course,’ said Ochoa de Marchena. ‘For if anything were to go wrong, our friend Paúeli would be very distressed. Now let us consider the details.’
They considered the details. It did not take long, and it was Ochoa’s idea to celebrate the occasion by calling upon the house’s resources.
‘Girls. Or boys. Or both together, if you wish. Come. Unless you have been mating with elk, you must have a mighty hunger to satisfy. Consider the young Tartar wenches — so modest, so lissom! They have this delightful practice: a gentleman sits, and they kneel, and then —’
‘I can imagine. What must it be like with two or three? Here. Purchase what you want, and there is my purse for your keep. I must go,’ Nicholas said. ‘I suppose I have to find my own way back to the trading-quarter? Why all the precautions?’
‘I did not know,’ said Ochoa simply, ‘whether the Niccolò that Benecke told me of would be the same crazy young señor that I knew. But as soon as I saw your bruises, I knew that it was.’
T
WO
DAYS
LATER
, after long absence, Nicholas set open the door of his parlour in Caffa to find Anna alone and in tears, cradling a frayed, loving note from her daughter. A moment later and, somehow, she was fast in his arms.
Chapter 24
O
CHOA
HAD
BEEN
RIGHT
: it had been a long time since Nicholas had touched a woman of his own kind. Closing his arms about Anna had been an instinctive gesture of comfort. But then what had been distant was transformed into light, yielding substance, scented and warm, and all his senses awoke with a shiver. For a moment, they held each other unmoving; he felt her hands spread at his shoulder and waist and, looking down at her profile, saw the tears below the closed eyes. Then her brow creased, and she loosed herself from his embrace, but instead sought his right hand and clasped it tightly.
She said, ‘I have been so afraid. Come and sit by me.’ And kept his hand as they sat close together, his free arm laid in a sheltering way along the wood of the settle behind her. She said, ‘You didn’t come home. The Patriarch said you left by yourself. I was afraid they had killed you.’
‘The bears?’ Nicholas said. Her lips were quivering.
She made an attempt at a smile. ‘Worse than that. Nicholas, have you not heard? Did you not see the change at the gates?’
It was safe to say that he had observed the change at the gates. The guard had not wished to let him through, and he had been stopped several times in the streets. There were soldiers everywhere. By now, he also had a good idea of the reason, but he let her tell him. He had been fishing, and she had steered the business alone through an upheaval that might well have wrecked it.
For, it seemed, the Khan Mengli-Girey had not persuaded the Genoese to appoint the Tudun he wanted. Politely, he had agreed to discard the possibly traitorous Eminek. He had even agreed, a very special concession, to ride down from his snowy mountain to Caffa and attend the installation of Eminek’s successor. The outrage occurred when it was discovered: the Khan proposed that the successor should be his secretary, the noble Karaï Mirza.
‘Of course, the Genoese had been bribed to appoint the widow’s son Sertak, and they forced the Khan in the end to agree. But it was ugly, Nicholas, for a while, and they are still suspicious of anyone who has had to do with the Khan or, of course, with Karaï Mirza. They questioned Sinbaldo, and came here to talk about the business. I thought I had persuaded them to leave us alone when —’ She stopped.
‘What?’ Nicholas said. ‘The Genoese are your friends. They won’t harm you. And I can look after myself. What frightened you?’
Her face was pale, looking up at him. ‘The furs came,’ Anna said.
‘All the furs that you and Julius were owed? But that is wonderful!’ Nicholas said.
‘More than we were owed. An ox-cart full. Ermines, martens, sables, everything. A surplus more than we could ever pay for if it wasn’t a gift. If it wasn’t a bribe from the Khan, made possible by his friendship with Moscow and Mánkup.’
‘A bribe to do what?’ Nicholas said. He rose quickly. ‘Look, I’m going to give you some wine. It’s all right. They can’t prove we did anything.’
‘They think we did,’ Anna said. ‘They think the Khan gave us silver to buy support for Karaï Mirza, and that the furs are our reward. I told them they were wrong. So did the Patriarch, when he came back.’
‘Well, that ought to convince them,’ said Nicholas. ‘At least it can be proved that you had nothing to do with it. If they have to blame someone, it’ll be me. Do you know why the Khan agreed to give up so easily? After all, he is the lord of the Crim Horde.’
Anna put down the cup he had given her. Colour had returned to her cheeks. She said, ‘Mengli-Girey’s worst enemies are two older brothers who wanted to rule in his place. The Genoese threatened to release them from prison, unless the Khan appointed the Tudun they wanted. Nicholas, where have you been?’
He smiled. ‘Fishing,’ he said. ‘And just as well, perhaps, although it left you to bear all the brunt of this nonsense. Fishing, and visiting Soldaia. Can you guess why?’
Her eyes flamed. ‘Nicholas!’ And then, as her eye fell on the pendulum that he held in his hand: ‘The gold is here! You divined it! That is why you came back?’
He sat down, and touched his cup to hers. ‘Because of the gold. It isn’t here yet, but I did see Ochoa, and have paid him something, at least. Now we have to wait until ships can sail.’
‘And then it will come here, or to Soldaia? Where is it coming from?’
‘I don’t know. Neither does Ochoa. That is why he couldn’t trace it without me. I have to divine when it is coming.’
‘But why? Who has it, if not Ochoa? Is it safe?’
‘He assures me it is. The Knights were hounding him: he had to lay a false trail. But it is coming. For you and for Julius. For us all.’
‘For us all? Does Ochoa approve of your plans for it?’ Anna asked.
Nicholas refilled her cup. ‘He doesn’t know. He wants me to invest in a new expedition to Africa with himself and Paúel Benecke.’
‘But you won’t?’ Anna said. ‘Shall I tell you why I was weeping when you came in? Why especially I was weeping, after all the anxiety?’
He said, ‘I saw it was a letter from Bonne. You would have told me if it were bad news. So you are homesick, and wish to go back?’
‘Not when Julius is coming,’ she said. ‘But yes, I was homesick and yes, I miss my little daughter, as you must lie awake, missing Jodi. Do you know that Gelis went to see Bonne?’
‘Gelis?’ he said.
‘She was at Neuss, not far away. She was so kind, Bonne said. She spoke of Jodi … Nicholas, send for your wife. She needs you. You must long for her, and your son. And I know what it is like, to dress for no one, to smile for no one, never to touch, or to caress. You may pay for your pleasure, but it cannot be the same. And I do not have even that.’
‘What are you asking?’ Nicholas said.
She was weeping again. She said, ‘To let me sit like this, with my head on your shoulder.’
But it was not enough, for after a while she spoke again, her voice blurred, her hand like a stranger’s, guiding his. ‘Nicholas, help me.’
H
E
DID
NOT
see her next morning, being much occupied with the business that had accumulated in his absence, and with reacquainting himself with the city and its gossip. As soon as he returned, Anna asked him to receive her.
It was formally done, and she stood in front of him in his office as a client might have done, rather than a mistress. She was again very pale. She said, ‘I thought you might have left for another house. I am grateful that you have stayed. I wished to make you my apologies, and to tell you that I now know, if I ever doubted it, what a staunch friend Julius has. I shall be eternally ashamed that I asked, and I shall be eternally grateful that you walked out of the room.’
There was a long pause. Then Nicholas said, ‘Any other man would have remained. But I shot Julius.’
Their eyes held. Anna said, ‘Then do you still want to work for him? With me? We should keep together, for safety.’
‘Of course. It never happened. And if we are careful, all will be well. Leave it to me,’ Nicholas said.
• • •
H
E
THOUGHT
at the time that he could control it all. He thought so up to the moment next day when he was taking stock in Sinbaldo’s fur warehouse and the Patriarch’s secretary trotted up, fell off his mule and, forgetting all prudence, cried ‘Signor Niccolò! Signor Niccolò! Come quickly!’ Then he added his news.
Ochoa had been captured.
No one had heard Brother Orazio’s words. Pulled into the warehouse, he recounted his story, shaken by whooping fur-induced coughs. Listening, surrounded by deep, lustrous pelts, Nicholas suddenly discovered a seething hatred of fur, especially sleek fur in exotic colours: smoke and silver and black, cream and tortoiseshell, orange and butter.
Ochoa had been surprised in his lodging and taken. He was in the Genoese fortress at Soldaia, accused of piracy and theft. The Patriarch was on his way there already to provide Christian solace.
Nicholas spoke to Sinbaldo. He took Orazio back to the house, merely to collect a packbag and horses, and leave a message for Anna. Anna was already there, barring his way, ordering the grooms to forbid him the stables. ‘You are not to go. They will kill you. They are suspicious already.’
Her Genoese gossips had told her. She was ashen. All she felt showed itself, in essence, as anger. It would serve no purpose to show her his own.
‘Do you think I would leave him?’ Nicholas said. ‘And really, you underrate my ingenuity.’
‘You are not going. You are not going. Nicholas, I forbid you to go. I know Ochoa once was a friend. I know how you feel about Africa, and all who remind you of it. But he has had his life, and made little of it, and you are at the threshold of yours. Nicholas, leave it to the Patriarch. He will do what he can.’
‘He doesn’t seem over-confident,’ Nicholas said. ‘He has sent Brother Orazio for me.’
‘Then he is a fool, or he doesn’t realise the risks you would run.’ Her frowning eyes, scanning his face, opened suddenly. ‘Or perhaps the Patriarch knows of the gold?’
Despite himself, Nicholas smiled. ‘Father Ludovico, plotting to appropriate funds for the Church? No. I think your first guess was right. He doesn’t know they suspect me of anything. He simply knows that Ochoa has served me, and thinks I should help him in trouble. I think so, too.’
The frowning eyes returned to his face. ‘They may imprison you, also. They may find out who you are.’
‘Then I shall have to explain myself,’ he said. ‘And you mustn’t try to
extract me. This doesn’t involve you or the Patriarch. I shall swear that I deceived you both, too.’ He paused. ‘Anna, I know you don’t want me to go. But you really can’t stop me.’
They looked at one another. Her eyes softened. She said, ‘Then I shan’t try. He is part of your past. You must love him.’
‘With that stupid, toothless face and those hats? I don’t care if he hangs from the ribbons,’ Nicholas said. ‘But I’d rather he didn’t buy a reprieve by telling them all about me and our gold.’
He smiled at her again. He felt sick.
On the way to Soldaia he hardly spoke, although Brother Orazio rode anxiously at his side, glancing at him now and then. When they arrived at the gates, it did not greatly astonish Nicholas to find that all the other travellers from Caffa were received through the portals before him, or that Brother Orazio was invited to pass through on his own. The monk, unexpectedly stubborn, stood objecting in the vernacular of Ferrara, until Nicholas, with a small, fierce signal, made him desist.
Once he was alone, there came a time when Nicholas objected as well, if in a somewhat token way, since he had no weapons, and was one man against a special detachment from the Genoese garrison. Presently the soldiers, becoming tired of the argument, simply wrestled him to the ground and kicked him until his voice stopped.
I
N
THE
MONASTERY
of Montello, a nobleman died. Because he had lived there for a long time, the funeral mass was carried out in every particular as he had wanted, even to the inclusion of that type of impassioned liturgy which the Abbot personally despised. No relatives were present, or indeed invited; but afterwards the vicomte’s possessions were gathered and laid in four chests by Brother Huon, whose silent grief, in defiance of the Divine Purpose, drew a rebuke from the Abbot. Brother Huon did penance, and in due course, the chests were sent off.