Courtesan's Lover (8 page)

“All of it? But…that's extraordinary.”

“Mmm. Never heard of it before. Usually at least a quarter has to be handed over. But this—it's all the delights of piracy, with a reprieve from hanging if you're caught. Now, thanks to
capture of a particularly troublesome…how shall I put it?…‘regular visitor' from the Barbary Coast, De Valette has declared that our friend here has the right to keep everything he finds—so long as he ensures that he only sets his sights upon the enemies of Malta.”

Carlo puffed out his surprise.

“Which makes my tenth of whatever they find considerably more attractive,” Michele said cheerfully.

Marco stepped out of the shadows. He thumped the bottle and glasses down on the table in front of the three men and turned away, torn between fascination with the discussion upon which he was eavesdropping, and irritation that his expectations for the end of the evening now seemed likely to be disappointed. He snatched up the coins that Carlo had thrown down onto the table and turned his back, moving away toward another table.

“What's the matter with the boy?” he heard Michele ask.

Carlo spoke softly, but, little more than feet away, Marco could just hear his words. “I think he had…hopes for an interesting conclusion to the evening. I might just have to go and find him when we have finished. I shouldn't wish to disappoint him. He has been so
very
attentive ever since I arrived.”

Marco's insides lurched. He took the grimy cloth from his shoulder and began to mop up some spilled ale. Then, bunching up his now sodden cloth and keeping his back to Carlo's table, he edged into the shadows.

Michele di Cicciano said, “Tell Rovere about the encounter with the
Sforza,
Salvatore
.”

curled his fingers up and through his plaits again. “It was as simple as picking a bunch of flowers,
Sinjur
,” he said.

Carlo grinned.

“The
Sforza'
s a carrack, as you'll probably know,
Sinjur,”
went on. “Lovely ship—but none too easy to board. She carries awnings over her decks as a deterrent to uninvited guests—dirty great spars, close-laid like a roof.” He paused, amused. “Well, she
usually
carries awnings.”

His two listeners waited.

“Happened to hear she was traveling without them on this voyage. Seemed a good opportunity.” Another long pause while
drained his glass, reached for the bottle, and refilled it. “Now, a heavy vessel like a carrack—such as the
Sforza
—draws deep,
Sinjur
. Needs nigh-on four fathoms.”

Michele and Carlo both nodded.

“And being square-rigged, she's at something of a disadvantage sailing into the wind when compared to a lightweight little lateen-rigger like the
. She can't turn quickly, see, like we can. Can't sail so close to the wind.”

“Where did you find her?” Carlo asked.

“Picked up the trail just outside Marsala, and then tracked her from there right down past the island of Pantelleria. She slowed when the wind turned to the east, about thirty miles off the island, but our rig suits windward sailing—so we kept the
close in and caught up with the
Sforza
heading toward Tunisia. Drew up by her stern and boarded aft over the 'castle.”

paused and refilled his glass again. He said softly, “It was quick. Not pretty perhaps, but quick,
Sinjur.
The benefits of the unexpected attack. With a
sciabecco
, we sail almost silent.
”

“The pickings?”

smile broadened again. “Worth it. Well worth it.” He nodded toward Michele. “Your tenth would have pleased you well, I reckon,
Sinjur
.”

“What was she carrying?” Carlo asked.

“Gold, luckily, and a fair quantity of alum. One or two of the wealthier passengers had a number of…items…too, that we were pleased to dispose of for them.”

“I'm sure you found good homes for it all.”

“Of course,
Sinjur
—in the end. And De Valette none the wiser, as it happens on this occasion.”

“Even better,” Michele said.

“Just how often are the ‘pickings' in the form of coin?” Carlo asked.

“Sometimes. Not always. It's as often stones, silks—other goods…”

Carlo glanced around the room to ensure no one was listening to him. Picking at his fingernails, he said, “Might a
ricettatore
be of any help to you, Signore? Someone to get the…goods…
translated
into coinage for you? I understand from Michele that you might be in need…”

“And might that
ricettatore
be yourself,
Sinjur
?”

A flick of the eyebrows by way of assent.

frowned down at the scarred stumps of his two missing fingers and ran his thumb slowly over the puckered flesh. Carlo gazed steadily at
, and Michele tilted his chair back onto two legs, crooked one leg up, and rested the sole of his boot on the edge of the table.