They went from room to room, waiting until bales were unpacked and men were willing to talk to them. They were not very welcome: merchants who had come a long way had their minds on warm water and food and refreshment in civilised company while the goods were laid out by others, and the sordid matter of trade was by custom deferred. They told Pagano, when he asked, which of the goods had been bought by the Palace. They were the finest things. When he asked to see the rest, he received a confusion of answers. They kept trying to tell him their goods were all sold, and he kept trying to tell them they were wrong. In the end, Pagano paid a dragoman double what he was worth to leave his food and come and translate. When she asked him what they had said, he didn’t answer at first. Then he said, “I don’t believe it. But they say that they are already under contract to barter their goods to named Trebizond merchants. Not ourselves or the Venetians. Merchants they buy from every year, or barter with on this basis. They say they cannot break such a contract, or they will be in debt. They say all the goods not spoken for by the Palace are committed by this arrangement. They say there is nothing left to be bought.”
His voice had risen. She saw a city guard turn, and touched his arm to calm him. She still didn’t quite see the trouble. The Genoese had bought their goods and sent them off by another route, but the Republic would get what it wanted, and ought to be pleased. If she had wanted pearls, she had lost them; but he could still buy her something at second-hand from the merchants, surely, who had got to them first. She saw then that the same applied to the Charetty dyes. He would have to buy them, at a price, from a middleman. The fortune he had been going to make had suddenly shrunk. Perhaps he would fail to make a profit at all. Perhaps he was going to have to pay more for his goods than all the silver he had got for his cargo, although at the time it had seemed to fill all their boxes. She said, “When Nicholas first came to Trebizond, did he sell his cargo for silver?”
At first he didn’t reply. Then he said, “No. He had to barter, or accept promissory notes.”
“Then you will have to get them,” she said. “They’ll be at the villa. And you can buy on credit, Pagano. Charetty credit with the Medici bank.”
“What are you worrying about?” he said. “Leave the business to me. There is nothing here that can’t be resolved.”
He was smiling but she heard his voice grate. She said, “It was a pity, wasn’t it, that you didn’t think of going to Erzerum after Sumela? Then you could have bought what you needed and brought it here.”
He swung round and stared at her. Then lifting his head, he looked all about. He said, “Astorre.”
She said, “He’ll talk about Nicholas.”
“No,” said Doria. “Wait.” She heard him ask the dragoman something, and then a number of voices answering. When he turned back to her, Pagano’s face had an odd look. He said, “There were only two hundred camels. They’re here. But there were another three hundred pack-mules, each carrying a hundred and fifty pounds of raw Caspian silk belonging to the Charetty company. They went straight to the Florentine fondaco.”
“Then Father Godscalc and Master Tobias will have them,” Catherine said.
“No. Because the fondaco is locked. The mules couldn’t get in. No one can get in without permission. And Astorre, being here, didn’t know it. Quick!” His face, which had gone dull as it had at Sumela, was suddenly full of glee once again. “Quick! All we have to do is get there and redirect the mules and the silk to the Leoncastello and your mother, my sweetheart, has her profit and we have shown her dreary officers who is their master.”
“And mistress,” Catherine said.
Chapter 31
GENERALLY, WHEN SOMETHING exciting was happening, Pagano made sure to include her. He liked to bestow pleasure; to gratify and to be admired for it. She had seen him do it to others.
Of course, with a prize in his grasp, he would like her to share in his victory. Against that, he was in extreme haste to rush from the khan. He wanted to seize the Charetty train of raw silk before Astorre or anyone else thought to stop him. So when Catherine hopped after him with a broken slipper, he was inclined to run on, calling to her to wait with her servants. In the end, she managed to stay with him, and scrambled to mount one of the horses he found, tearing her gown and finally losing the slipper. She didn’t mind that, or putting her horse to the gallop with her gown tucked round her legs and her earrings tugging the lobes of her ears. A man had already rushed off to the Leoncastello to muster all the help they would need for the mules. They clattered along the shore road and picked up their men as they passed, before climbing the street to the Meidan and turning off east, to where the Florentine fondaco was.
They came in sight of the compound, but there were no mules milling outside it. There were soldiers there, but they gave no impression of policing the property: rather, they stood drawn up as if at drill, facing outwards. Catherine saw that the double doors of the courtyard were open, with the porter standing uncertainly a little inside. Within the broad yard itself she could see the red head of the shipmaster, John le Grant, in talk with a man in Imperial livery. Dismounting, Pagano walked into the yard, and she followed. The ship-master saw them and turned.
Pagano said, “I have come for my mules.”
The freckled face with its sea-blue eyes remained perfectly blank. “Mules?” said the ship-master.
She felt Pagano pause, as he looked at the untrampled, unbesmirched paving. He said, “You don’t know, I see, that your captain Astorre has returned. There is a train of pack-mules on its way to the Charetty company. They are to go to the Leoncastello. I shall leave men to see that is done. Why are the gates open?”
The soldier, turning also, was studying Pagano and herself calmly. The engineer said, “Someone cancelled the order to close them. They’ve just come to tell us. If there are any goods consigned to the Charetty company, this is where they should come.”
“Did the Emperor say so? Or his captain?” said Pagano. He turned to address the soldier in Greek. “There has been a mistake. I regret, but you are to lock the gates instantly.”
They were in the middle, now, of a small crowd. The soldier, appealing over his shoulder, had been joined by two of his officers. A number of servants came out of the house, followed at once by the big negro, and then by the doctor and the priest whom Pagano had duped on the journey to Pisa. Or perhaps, Catherine had since wondered, Father Godscalc was less simple than Pagano had thought? The priest went straight up to the Imperial captain and said something politely in Greek. Then he said in Italian to Pagano, “I am afraid, Messer Doria, that you must leave. The captain has no orders to allow you to take any possessions of ours to the Leoncastello.”
Pagano’s eyes sparkled. The Leoncastello men had all come: she could hear their voices in the street, disputing with the soldiers who were keeping them out of the yard. There were many dozens of them, and the numbers were growing. Pagano said, “You mean the captain has no orders to interfere with the internal affairs of the Charetty company. This is between your men and mine and, as you see, I have double your numbers. As a priest, as a man who cares for your company, do you really want to turn a private disagreement into a public passage of arms, with injured and killed to lie on your conscience? Would Marian de Charetty thank you for it?”
The priest, who was big, had been staring down at Pagano and frowning. Now he lifted his head with a different expression. He was looking past Pagano and herself to the street. A moment later, Pagano also withdrew his gaze and turned quickly. Then she heard and saw what had attracted them. The mule-train was coming. Already, you could hear the clatter of hundreds of trampling hooves at the head of the long sloping street from the Meidan, and see the jostling backs of the beasts, and the switching scrolls of the ears, and hear the snap of hide whips and men shouting. There were horsemen among them, and herdsmen dragging them on, for they filled all the street and the end of the train was not even visible. Outside the yard, Pagano’s men were talking excitedly
among themselves in Italian, and beginning to spread over the street. The chaplain, Godscalc, said, “But you couldn’t stable so many.”
He had given in. Pagano, who never bore grudges, gave him one of his white-toothed, delightful smiles and said, “Let us worry about that.”
“And fodder? The drivers will expect to be paid.”
“For forty-five thousand pounds of raw silk?” Pagano said. “It will be a pleasure.” The leading mules were already halfway down the road, and the Genoese, unimpeded, were running forward to seize and divert them. The doctor, who had made an involuntary movement, stopped himself and stood still.
“I’m glad,” said the priest. Attracted by something in his voice, Catherine looked at Pagano. The delightful smile was already fading. He was staring, against the sun, at the oncoming mules. He said, “Where are the bales?”
The priest looked down at him calmly. “Why, knowing nothing of it, I can only take your word that they were carrying bales,” said Father Godscalc. “But if they were, and if they were for us, I imagine they have been taken to our newest premises inside the Citadel. The beasts, I imagine, are being sent to their stabling. I hardly know where we should have put them, but for your generous offer.”
“It is a problem you still have to solve,” said Pagano. He had to shout, such was the turmoil out in the street. His face, tilted up to the priest’s, looked pale, the way it had at Sumela. When he turned to her, it didn’t alter at all as it usually did. He said, “Tell them to let the mules go and get back to the Leoncastello.”
She wasn’t a servant. She had only one shoe, and her gown was torn, and her hair was coming down, and he had made a mess of their business. She stared at the lord Pagano Doria her husband and moved not an inch. After a moment, he turned on his heel and strode towards the open gates, where the guard opened ranks to accommodate him.
Still as a drawing, a racing camel stood in the entrance. It was what they called a thoroughbred. Pagano had pointed one out at the khan, because you didn’t see them very often. It was supposed to have a neck thin as a swan, and a sneer, and a tawny colour of coat, silk as the sides of the jumping-mouse. A jumping-mouse was something they had in the desert. Although stupid, camels were elegant animals. More elegant than mules without bales. She surveyed the rider. Freed of his headcloth, he sat perfectly still, as if part of the camel. He had a beard which was the yolk yellow of floss dyed with kermes and fustic, and his soft boots were embroidered like comfit-cakes. He said, “They have been told.”
Everything became quiet. The Negro Loppe, who had walked with quick strides to the doorway, became suddenly still, his eyes glittering. Behind her, when she turned, she saw the priest Godscalc look up with a sudden, brown glare. Then he lowered his lids and, taking his beads in his fingers, stood silent. The doctor Tobias took a step forward, and swallowed, and without warning broke into a fit of furious coughing. The ship-master put a hand on his shoulder.
Pagano said, “Praise be to God. You survived.”
Then she looked at the man and saw that she knew him; that this was the boy who had once hoisted her to his shoulders and carried her laughing to her mother his mistress. Her stomach heaved. She said, “Claes!”
“Madonna,” said the rider. He didn’t move, nor did his mount. Nor did his eyes remain on her. He said to Pagano, “You may leave.”
Pagano’s face, from pale, had become yellow. He said, “I saw you fall.”
“Oh, I fell,” said Nicholas. “I was left for dead, I believe. Fortunately, I wakened in Erzerum.”
Erzerum. The mule-train. The Venetian and Genoese diversions to Bursa. The truncated caravan, with its merchandise already spoken for, which had blasted their hopes today in Trebizond. All had been arranged. All had been arranged by Nicholas. Who was alive.
Pagano said, as if involuntarily, “The silver?”
“What silver?” said Nicholas. There was a silence.
Then, with an effort, Pagano spoke. “Who can know the truth, when one report denies another? Trying to save you, I and my servants saw you fall and thought you dead. Catherine’s entreaties were all I had left.”
Camel and rider, unmoving, stood in his way. “You are fortunate,” Nicholas said, “in your wife. You may leave.”
He had hardly glanced at her. But half-shod in her torn gown with her dishevelled hair, Catherine de Charetty looked up and up at the apprentice who had married her mother, and saw a man, brown-haired, golden-bearded, contained, who had nothing in common with the affectionate, generous vacuity of Claes but the directness of his immense gaze. She said, “We are going.” And without looking round, walked stilted through the gates and took the road to the Leoncastello. She did not need to look round to know that her husband had followed her.
Behind, the camel moved, and entered the courtyard. The rider said softly, “Ikch, ikch, ikch!” and it knelt while its master swung stiffly over the saddle and stood. His coat was of silk, and the cloth which had protected his head lay on his shoulders, its gold edges glittering. The beard glittered too, new-emerged like the dragons’-teeth army, obliterating both dimples and scar. Set in the beard, the familiar lips had a different aspect, their corners deeply indented. His skin was brown, making his eyes large and neutral and light. Only his hair was the same, brown as mud and curling in screws and fingers where it had become damp. He took his hand from the camel and said, “Her name is Chennaa. The boy will care for her.”
Loppe said, “I too, Messer Niccolò.” Their eyes met. Loppe said rapidly, “But—”
Nicholas said, “If you please.” After a moment, Loppe dropped his eyes and, with the boy, led the camel away. Le Grant, without speaking, had walked out into the road among the mules and their drivers and was beginning to impose some sort of order. The guards, it seemed, were ready to be helpful.
In the courtyard, Godscalc said, “We have to thank God, and we do. You were the only survivor?”
“It’s a long story,” Nicholas said. “Perhaps I should tell it indoors. Astorre will be here soon.”
Tobie said, “We have thought you dead for a month.”
“On what proof?” Nicholas said. “Believe every rumour, and your business will die. You should know that by now. I hope you did nothing to spread it.”
Godscalc said, “No. We sent no letters. We studied the documents we had been left, and put them into effect, so far as we were able.”
“You sound like Henninc,” said Nicholas. “Of course you put them into effect; you’re not in your dotage. Shut the door, and sit wherever you like. Doria claimed the company?”
Godscalc said, “As soon as he returned. Injured, trying to save you from bandits. With the consent of the Emperor, we were prevented from leaving the villa this morning so that he could buy on behalf of the Charetty company. Julius is dead?”
“No,” said Nicholas. “Act, however, as if he were. He came to warn me that Doria was in pursuit with a party of Kurds. Doria stood aside and watched the Kurds slaughter our party. We can’t prove it. It’s our word against his.”
“Leaving you and Julius for dead?”
“He hardly had a chance to decide one way or the other,” said Nicholas. “Another party of Kurds had been detailed to rescue us. They chased Doria off, and took us to Erzerum.”
“Detailed by whom?” Tobie said. His head, bald as an old man’s, at this moment looked bald as a baby’s.
“By Uzum Hasan of the White Sheep. He owns Erzerum. He wanted to know how we stood with the Emperor. He wanted us to know how he stood with the Emperor and the Sultan. He had sent his mother to talk to us.”
“Arranged by his niece the lady Violante?” said Tobie. “That explains…” He broke off. “The bitch!”
“What?” said Nicholas.
Tobie said, “She came to see us. Eight days ago.”
There was a pause. Then Nicholas said, “Yes. She would have known by then that we were safe. If she didn’t tell you, she wanted to find something out.”
Godsc
alc said, “I imagine she did find it out.”
“Do you regret it?” said Nicholas. “What else did she say?”
Tobie said, “Quite a lot. She warned us against Doria. She wanted to hire the Ciaretti to take the Empress to Batum. To tell us that the Venetians were buying their goods in Erzerum and sending them to Kerasous, instead of Trebizond. She advised us to do the same. Do we trust her?”
“Think what her interests must be, and then trust her,” Nicholas said. “It was Diadochos who arranged to split up the caravan.”
“So that the Turk in Bursa gets everything.”
“So that Doria in Trebizond finds there is nothing to buy. Don’t believe all you hear. The Genoese consignment, yes, has gone by land to Bursa and good luck to it. Even if it gets past the fighting, the taxes will kill any profit.”
“And Venice?” Tobie said.
“What she told you was true. The local agent bought for Violante and Venice. Four hundred camels have taken their goods to Kerasous, to go into storage until they can be embarked to sail west. Another four hundred camels have gone with them for me.”
Godscalc said, “You will have to explain. Whatever credit you have, no money you could possibly raise would pay for merchandise of that order on top of the mule-loads to Trebizond.”
John le Grant, entering quietly, took his place by the wall.
Nicholas said, “The mules brought nothing, father. The bales they unloaded were padded. They were merely to mislead Doria, so that he would never suspect our interest in Kerasous. All our cargo is now lying at Kerasous except for your manuscripts, and what we have been paid by the Palace, and a few other dues. I hope we can save these as well, but even if we don’t, we have our profit. The Turks can do what they like to the rest of the Empire. As soon as the seas become clear, the Kerasous merchandise can be embarked and make its way home to Venice and Bruges.”
The Spring of the Ram Page 48