The Spring of the Ram: The Second Book of the House of Niccolo

by Dorothy Dunnett

  “He didn’t invent the farmuk, either,” Nicholas said. “My lord, the folly isn’t disputed. But it was five years ago, and redress has followed. And the honesty of this company is unassailable. Your Bruges agents know in what ways we have served the Medici.”

  “I have that in mind,” said Cosimo, with a certain small emphasis that Nicholas was glad to hear. “But my confidence is worth little if you lose the trust of the Church and the Emperor. Fra Ludovico: what if the notary Messer Julius were dismissed? Would the firm commend itself then?”

  “He will not be dismissed,” Nicholas said, without imitating anybody. He saw Tobie look round.

  “Then the company had best go back to Bruges,” said the Minorite, without moving his eyes. “There is work for its chaplain to do.”

  The suggestion, hurled against the monolithic form of Father God-scalc, brought a sigh from the priest. He said, “Well, brother, there is no doubt the world would be better if we all had your zeal in the Lord. I have a question, if Messer Cosimo will forgive me. Did I see you outside with a friend of mine?”

  Across his folded arms, the friar inspected the priest. “I doubt it,” he said.

  “But I could hardly be wrong. Pagano Doria, newly landed from Porto Pisano? From his interest in me, I’m afraid, he became intrigued by the plans of the Charetty company. It occurred to me that perhaps we owed this visit of yours to something he suggested or told you?”

  Silence.

  Cosimo de’ Medici said, “Well?”

  The monk said, “The man is hardly a friend. An acquaintance. It was from him that I learned, yes, that the wealth of Florence was about to be placed in the hands of that miserable man. I chose to warn you. I have not looked for thanks.”

  “Giovanni?” said the old man. “We have heard, have we not, of Pagano Doria?”

  Giovanni de’ Medici gave an affectionate smile. “Of course, my father,” he said. “He called here but this morning, to visit the Milanese envoy. He too leaves soon for Trebizond.”

  In the distance, Nicholas heard the old man say, “Indeed?” For a moment he lost track of the voices in the room. He thought of Marian, and all that might be happening in Bruges. He felt cold. His blood, warm and quick just five minutes ago, was crawling sluggish and chill through his veins. He found Giovanni the son was explaining something.

  “But yes,” he was saying, “Messer Doria’s ship lies in Porto Pisano with its crew already spoken for, and its cargo beginning to mount in the warehouse. He sets sail after Christmas, I am told. In a round ship.”

  “I see,” said the old man. He sighed. “Human nature. One can never be certain, Fra Ludovico. Here, it seems, is a man who gave you the most disinterested information which led you—with the best of intentions—to throw doubt on the honesty of the Charetty company. Your doubts may be justified. We have not been able to satisfy ourselves one way or the other. But what does appear evident is that this Pagano Doria was not disinterested. He hoped your warnings would dissuade us. He hoped the Charetty company would indeed be sent back to Bruges and that—surely?—he himself would be appointed as Florentine consul to the Emperor David.”

  “Is it possible?” said Tobie abruptly.

  “It seems rather likely,” said Nicholas.

  “It is not so,” said Cosimo’s son Giovanni. “Not at all. I have said that Messer Pagano Doria sails for Trebizond. It is true. He proposes to settle and trade there. But he cannot represent Florence because he has already accepted another appointment. Pagano Doria, my father, is the new Black Sea consul for Genoa.”

  “Genoa!” Godscalc exclaimed.

  Nicholas stood completely still, thinking. Then, aloud, he said what he thought. “It isn’t so serious. We knew we’d have resentment to fight, and from the Genoese more than from Venice. Once in Trebizond, the common danger will draw us together. Till then, we shall have to be careful, that’s all.” He said to Godscalc, “You knew? Or suspected?”

  “Suspected,” the chaplain said. “Doria and I met at Pisa, perhaps not quite by accident. There was no word of a voyage to Trebizond. Afterwards, I made some enquiries. Fra Ludovico, I fear you’ve been used. It alters things. It might suggest to monsignore that the Charetty company could be trusted at least for so long as it would take to send to Cardinal Bessarion, wherever he is, and obtain his judgement on the matter of Master Julius?”

  The Minorite made to speak. The old man held up his hand. “No,” he said. “The decision is mine.”

  Nicholas waited, looking round at the silent gathering; wondering at the power of one clever man. At length, Cosimo de’ Medici shifted in his chair. He said, “My conclusion is this. The Charetty company shall represent Florence, and papers will be drawn up to that effect. Messages will also be sent to my lord the Cardinal of Nicaea. In the event of an unfavourable reply, Florence will withdraw her support of the Charetty company. The Emperor will be informed. Florentine merchants will be told that they no longer need honour their contracts. If you have already departed, you may well arrive in Trebizond to find that you cannot recoup on your voyage. The risk is yours. Are you willing to incur it?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Nicholas said.

  The old man held his eyes, it seemed to him, for a long time. Then he turned. “Fra Ludovico, what do you say?”

  The monk’s ruddy colour had cooled. “There are good Christians as well as bad in Genoa, my lord,” he said. “I hope to learn what news the Cardinal sends. I bow, of course, to your lordship’s judgement. But I would not lend gold, or send valuable cargo. You and your colleagues would lose it.”

  Nicholas spoke quickly. “We don’t ask for gold; merely a ship on deferred purchase terms. Sequester the ship if you don’t get the money. Call on my company if you can’t obtain either.”

  “And the cargo?” said Cosimo de’ Medici. “The good friar has a point.”

  Nicholas said, “I, not the merchant, would pay the insurance costs. I should expect him to refund it when satisfied.”

  Julius said, “Nicholas. It isn’t fair. Our budget won’t stand that.” He had turned from pale to patchily livid.

  The lord Cosimo said, “Indeed, that seems a little extreme. We are not talking of a group of blackguards, Father Ludovico; only of a past misdemeanour of one, now exposed to his masters.” He turned to Nicholas. “I will guarantee the insurance. I require you to sign the papers as well as your notary. That will satisfy me. I trust Fra Ludovico is equally satisfied.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Nicholas said. He looked at the friar. And after a moment the friar, too, bent his neck. He did not look submissive. But he had agreed.

  “And now,” said a voice.

  A little slowly, Nicholas turned. The well-upholstered figure of Giovanni de’ Medici stood before him. Giovanni de’ Medici said, “I have business with you.” He opened his palm. “Cosimino has rent the ears of his nurse and his mother because this thing has become tangled. This toy. This thing that walks. Who can restore it?”

  Nicholas wrinkled his brow. “I suppose I can,” he said. “But in return, of course, for certain business concessions.”

  Together, he and the lord Cosimo’s son bent their heads over the toy, while Julius got out his penner and crossed to speak to the secretary. His hand was visibly shaking. Whereas Nicholas, fully himself, turned the farmuk in hands that were large and firm and warm as a mason’s. The trial was over; and the lists cleared for the battle.

  Chapter 5

  OUTSIDE THE PALAZZO MEDICI unlikely things started to happen as soon as the Charetty company emerged into the late afternoon rain.

  First, Nicholas dismissed the two servants. Then, ignoring questions, he walked down to the Arno, unlocked the door of a warehouse nobody knew he had rented, and invited his three companions to enter before him. Then he shut the door and confronted them.

  Julius, who had continued to resist long after the chaplain and Tobie had fallen silent, was still repeating, “…do you think you are doing?” He stopped. His eye
twitched.

  “Calling you a fool to your face,” Nicholas said. “Why in the name of the Ever-Virgin Mother of God did you not tell me what went wrong in Bologna?”

  There was a pause. “You said everyone knew,” Tobie said. He used the voice Julius mistrusted most.

  “How should I know?” said Nicholas. “I was an apprentice.” His expression was uniquely unpleasant.

  Julius looked at him, confounded. From the time Nicholas was eighteen, squabbles, arguments had been the common history of their relationship. Since Nicholas had married the demoiselle de Charetty they had all, to their periodic annoyance, had to modify their behaviour in public. Nicholas was the Charetty company, and you didn’t therefore take the back of your hand to him. When he had good ideas Julius, like everyone else, was ready enough to adopt them. But he wasn’t ready—by God, he was not—to accept a full-blown tongue-lashing before his own senior colleagues. He said, “You silly young—”

  He was interrupted by Father Godscalc, who addressed himself smoothly to Nicholas. “If you didn’t know, you spoke most convincingly. About the repayments, for instance. But if, uh…”

  “If Nicholas didn’t guess right, and Julius didn’t repay the money, Cardinal Bessarion is going to ruin the Charetty company. Well, well,” said Tobie in the same voice as before.

  “Of course I repaid it!” said Julius. “Do you think I’m a thief? Do you think I enjoyed standing there and telling the whole story?” Do you think, he drew breath to say, that I would bother telling all that to the most shiftless serving apprentice in Flanders? He didn’t say it, since it was obvious.

  Nicholas said, “Did you tell nobody?”

  Up to that point, guilt had helped to moderate the notary’s natural indignation, but there were limits. Julius snapped, “My God, who should I have told? The Eight on Security? The City Rackmaster?”

  “Any member of this company who would bother to listen,” Nicholas snapped in return. “We’re here to raise funds on the strength of our name. Who’ll trust us if we don’t know the facts about one another? We’d have been spared all this nonsense if just one other person—Tobie, Gregorio—had been warned.”

  “And had informed you,” Julius said. “You don’t see it yet, do you? Who cares if a servant is born out of wedlock? You never did. Although you never brought yourself, did you, to tell us the truth about your quarrel with your famous Scottish lord Simon until it blew up in your face, and you had to leave Bruges? Bastardy isn’t anyone’s fault, but a professional man is judged by his reputation. Do you think Cornelis de Charetty would have taken me on if he’d known I was in trouble with the Church? Use your head.”

  “I need to, don’t I,” said Nicholas, “if you’re not going to use yours? How’s it going to help you keep afloat if you wreck your employer’s business? It’s also a trifle unfair to Godscalc and Tobie and Gregorio. They have reputations as well. If you see trouble coming, then tell them. I can assure you that they won’t pass it on: they don’t think I’m reliable. But they’ll tell you if they think you’ve lost your wits or your senses or even your sense of what’s funny. What do you say?”

  “Go away,” Julius said simply. He used different words, from his Bologna days.

  “I’m going,” Nicholas said, “to be agent for Florence in Trebizond. It’s a question of where you are heading for.”

  “So you want me to leave. I’ll leave,” Julius said. “You couldn’t keep me.”

  “Julius,” Tobie said. It was his sweetest voice. “Think again, Julius. Nicholas stood up in there and told the Medici to tear up their contract because he wasn’t going to dismiss you. Does that sound as if he wants you to leave?”

  Julius felt himself flushing, but drew in breath, hard, through his nostrils. He said, “I’m going to ruin the company, am I not? So is Nicholas, but we always said we could control him. Or if we couldn’t, we’d leave. I think he’s more in control than I want him to be. I think I’m getting out.”

  The chaplain spoke. Whatever he said, irritatingly, his voice remained melodious. He said, “That would indeed ruin the company, I should think, just at this juncture. I am sure Nicholas will not make the point, so I will. We must appear undivided. Could you not see your way to…to deferring your departure for a week or so?”

  “Until we’re at sea,” Tobie said. His voice sounded odd. “Far at sea, Julius. Then if you want to leave, we’ll all help you.”

  Julius realised the sound he heard was Nicholas trying not to laugh. He looked at Father Godscalc and saw him suspiciously compressing his lips. Tobie suddenly let out a chirrup. Tobie exploding always sounded like one of his retorts on the boil. Tobie said, “Who was she, my boy? We loved the solemn confession. A better house, a servant, some good wine…the mortal sin of the dice. My son, you have sinned. Get thee to hell, eating black bread and yesterday’s mince with the devils. But what didn’t we hear? Go on. You owe us all something. Blow by blow, what did you spend all that money on?”

  An austere man would have nursed his anger and held out. Julius, who was still, in his soul, half a student, stared at his colleagues and then unclosed his fists. “Oh well, you can imagine,” he said. “There was this place where the cook had some dice. I told you about it. I didn’t say it was me. It was incredible. It was truly incredible. We used to meet…”

  They ended up rather drunk in a tavern. Gently maudlin, Julius allowed himself to be led back to Monna Alessandra’s austere house and laid in his room by the chaplain and Tobie. On the way back to the parlour and Nicholas, Godscalc slowed down and halted the other man. “Before we go in. Who is Simon?”

  “Who?” said Tobie.

  Godscalc, who was merely mellow, repeated himself. “A kinsman of Nicholas?”

  “Oh, that!” Tobie said. “Simon de St Pol. Landed. Wealthy. A merchant. Splits his time between Scotland and Bruges. Nicholas was brought up to think him his father. Instead, it turned out he was just the wife’s bastard. My lord Simon disapproves deeply of Nicholas and threatened to ruin his business. That’s why Nicholas is here, and not in Bruges nursing his marriage. Pity Ludo the Goodo hadn’t found out about that. It wouldn’t have mattered to anyone.”

  “Except Nicholas?” Godscalc said.

  But instead of replying, the doctor merely pulled the cap from his head by one lappet and, entering the parlour, waved the object at Nicholas. Round his heated bald head, the fine, light hair was damp as a cat’s. He said, “And which of my weaknesses, dear bastard apprentice, do you plan to turn to your purpose? I’m afraid Father Godscalc has none.”

  In tribute, Nicholas contorted the lower half of his face. “I’m sure I’ll find something,” he said. He was pulling notes out of his satchel and scattering them prodigally over a table. His face was pink.

  “It won’t last, the contrition, you know,” Tobie said. “And Julius doesn’t like being scolded by juniors. Even by senior juniors.” He sat in the windowseat.

  “So that’s why you’ll do it in future,” Nicholas said. “You or whoever he goes to. Weren’t you listening back there?”

  “Am I your catshpaw?” said Tobie.

  “Yesh,” said Nicholas. He found what he was looking for, unfolded and smoothed it, and then held it out to the doctor. “And that’s your reward in advance. Second column on the…”

  “…left; third down,” said Tobie incomprehensibly. “You bastard. I couldn’t get anyone to sell me one.”

  “What is it?” said Godscalc with interest. For a big man, he sat down like an athlete.

  “Instructions on how to spend annates,” said Nicholas. “Father, this afternoon you matriculated in clerical cunning. I hope it brought its own satisfaction, because I don’t know how else to thank you.”

  “Godscalc and I find you fascinating,” Tobie said. “So you think there will be fighting?”

  “It’s why we are being allowed to go east,” Nicholas said. “If we survive, so much the better. If not, the Medici will be seen to have launched a token crusad
e. The Pope can’t then dun them for anything.”

  “I’d worked that out,” said Tobie. “What are my chances of coming back?”

  “The same as mine,” Nicholas said. “Better.”

  “I suppose so,” said Tobie. “You’re the Florentine consul and head of the first, tender offshoot of the Charetty company. Pick you off, and anyone with a grudge knows that the rest of us will pack and go home. That is, I certainly will. Julius might come over stubborn.”

  “And you, father?” said Nicholas.

  Godscalc considered. “I suppose I’d have to stay so that Julius could confide in me. Does nobody want to know about Pagano Doria?”

  “No,” said Tobie. “World’s full of Dorias.”

  Godscalc said, “This isn’t one of the main branch.”

  Nicholas said, “How did you meet him?”

  Godscalc watched Tobie’s eyes close. “I saw his round ship in Porto Pisano,” he said. “It had the new rig, which was interesting; and so was its cargo. Hides and French wine and Spanish wool. It had just made a short stop at Genoa, and was supposed to be planning a trip east at Candlemas. The ship’s name was Doria.”

  “And you remembered,” said Nicholas, “that long ago a Doria was consul in Trebizond. Another of them refused the same job quite recently.”

  “I knew they had interests all over the Levant. I was curious. I walked round the harbour and discovered something else. There was talk about an old galley the Medici had ordered to be warped up to Pisa for refitting. They wondered what fools of merchants were buying it.”