Scales of Gold (35 page)

‘Who says?’ said Gelis.

‘Nicc– Everyone does,’ Diniz said. He had flushed. ‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Yes. Where is Nicc-everyone?’ she asked.

‘Behind you,’ said Nicholas. ‘Diniz is embarrassed, and so is his conscience. We are none of us particularly pleased with ourselves, if you’ll believe it.’

Gelis said, ‘My beliefs can’t matter very much at the moment. I wished to say that however right I was, and am, I chose the wrong time and place to say it, and for that I apologise. I have said as much to Lopez.’

‘Then you are braver than I am,’ said Nicholas. ‘But I’m glad you did it. You know we are putting off all but six at the Senagana? The Sanhaja have to find their way back up the coast, but speak Arabic, and will probably manage. Some of the blacks are Jalofos and swear they know where they’re going. The rest seem to be saying the same, but we don’t know their language. They may be killed. The alternative is to put them all in chains and take them to Portugal.’

‘You would do that?’ she said. She was wearing another gown. For a moment, her face looked different, too.

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ said Nicholas. ‘It would be cruel past bearing. But if they’re still about when the
Fortado
arrives, some may be recaptured and auctioned by the Jalofos. Do we buy them in a second time, or do we let them go to the
Fortado
for a Christian employer in Portugal? I’ll do whatever you say. There are three girls and an eight-year-old boy with no skin on. Lázaro thought he could rub the black off.’

‘Nicholas,’ Godscalc said.

‘You don’t have to stop him,’ said Gelis. ‘I tore his hand, and I
haven’t apologised. Nor am I going to. Yes. If they’re recaptured, I think the
Fortado
should have them.’

‘Diniz?’ said Nicholas.

‘She doesn’t mean it. She’s thinking it over,’ said Diniz.

Godscalc looked at him, seeing to his surprise the soldier whom Nicholas had found, fighting at Ceuta. Perhaps Gelis van Borselen saw the same thing. There was a moment of stillness. Then she said, ‘You’re right. I don’t mean it. It is too late for that.’

‘It’s for you to say,’ Nicholas said. ‘And for me to buy them, of course. You thought Mistress Bel might open her purse-strings.’ It was impossible to tell whether he was surprised or annoyed or simply weary. All you could say was that he had been sufficiently moved to uproot the whole situation and throw it into their faces. Soon after that, the girl went below.

The remaining time was spent devising a plan. The
Fortado
sailed like a bird but, failing disaster, would reach the Senagana half a day after them. They nearly had a disaster: striking blind into a circus of dolphins driving a shoal of yellow mullet on shore. The rudder kicked and, heavy as she was, the caravel rocked before she fought her way through without damage. ‘It happens here,’ Jorge said. ‘The mullet spawn: the heathens call in the dolphins to help them.’

‘Call the dolphins?’ said Bel. ‘By name, or do they come in by numbers?’

‘The fishermen smack the water with the flat of their paddles, and the dolphin respond. Let us hope the
Fortado
also has trouble,’ Jorge said. He knew the coast. He had not ranged the seas in the manner of Ochoa, until his joints swelled and his gums released the stumps of his teeth; but he knew what to expect from the Senagana. Except at time of flood, nothing could traverse the bars of the great double estuary. The factor’s mud house, reports said, had been hastily built on an island; the
Niccolò
, anchoring outside the river, a mile wide at its mouth, would send a party ashore and, according to the factor’s advice, land their cargo and find their way to the market.

There were no warehouses as yet in Senagana. The trading was done away from the coast, as in Ca’ da Mosta’s time ten years before, at a village of the Jalofo King of the region. Nicholas and Jorge would lead, with the first mate and Godscalc and Loppe. And, naturally, the groom for the horses.

‘And me,’ said Diniz.

‘If you wish, of course,’ Nicholas said. ‘But that would leave the ladies alone on the
Niccolò
when Mick Crackbene comes in. I
thought you wanted to meet Mick Crackbene again. You might get yourself invited on board the
Fortado.
’

‘So I might,’ said Diniz slowly; and gave a laugh that caused Father Godscalc to look at Nicholas sharply. But Nicholas merely looked stupid.

Chapter 18

H
ALFWAY THROUGH
the next morning, when the heat had driven everyone except the lookout under awnings, the Portuguese caravel
Fortado
furled her mainsail and bumped through the currents to drop anchor beside her pristine twin the
San Niccolò
, rocking sleepily off the African coast at the swampy mouth of the Senagana river. The surf-boats which had earlier surrounded the latter, obedient as dolphins, reappeared lurching over the breakers to greet the latest arrival with struggling chickens and baskets of pepper and catches of mullet, and armfuls of black and brown berries.

The oarsmen were of all races, from the half-naked blacks to the brown hazel-eyed Tuareg with their headcloths and skin shirts and breeches. And as the races were mixed, so the landscape showed a mingling of grass-covered dunes and low scrub and groves of coconut palms which was half Sahara and half something else. It was the edge of the Sahel, beyond which lay the interior, the green woodlands and grazings and bushes watered by the Senagana during its seeping, long-delayed summer flood, and giving life to bird and beast and to living communities. The dead, scorching breath of the desert had gone. Ripe smells, animal smells, reached out and seemed to sink heavily into the water. The smell of Africa, at long last.

The floating market was an immediate success with the
Fortado
, starved of proper provisioning since Funchal. Diniz, leaning languidly over the rail of the
Niccolò
, observed the summary nature of the transactions and deduced that the vendors were well aware that the factor had been absent since daybreak, while the buyers were not. This view was confirmed by a hail which presently reached him from across the water. Messer Raffaelo Doria presented his compliments, and would be honoured to speak to the gentleman Niccolò vander Poele, whom he believed to be on board. The language he used was Portuguese.

It had begun. Diniz, removing his gaze from a pleased scrutiny of certain patches and scars on the flanks of the neighbouring ship, peered at the speaker, who looked like a
comito
. ‘The gentleman?’ observed Diniz, after a while.

‘Niccolò vander Poele. The Fleming.’

Gelis van Borselen, her crown heaped with sun-silvered ringlets, appeared beside Diniz and smiled dazzlingly over the water. The distant
comito
bowed. Diniz also sent him a smile. The
comito
, after a pause, repeated, ‘The Fleming?’

‘I am a Fleming,’ said Gelis. ‘And shall be happy to speak for my race. You have some matter to raise?’

‘Yes. That is, no. That is, senhora, your servant. It is a gentleman I seek.’

Diniz threw back his shoulders. ‘I am a gentleman,’ he said. ‘Is there some doubt?’

‘A
Flemish
gentleman,’ said the
comito
. ‘Named Niccolò vander Poele.’

‘There is no such gentleman,’ said Diniz. ‘You are misinformed.’

‘But –’ said the
comito
, his voice rising.

‘That will do,’ said another voice, the voice of authority. It was not, as Diniz had hoped, the voice of Michael Crackbene. It came from a well-built gentleman in a doublet and hat almost worthy of Ochoa de Marchena, except that as well as expensive, his clothing was tasteful. Also his accent was not Spanish but Genoese, and his language, when he took the other’s place at the rail, was not Portuguese but Italian.

He said, ‘I am Raffaelo Doria, commander of the
Fortado
. Do we misunderstand you? You must certainly have on board your licence-holder, a Flemish gentleman of the name you have heard. Or is the
San Niccolò
no longer trading?’

‘Ah!’ said the new, dulcet Gelis. ‘But sir, as Senhor Vasquez tried to tell you, you have been misinformed. There is no gentleman here of that name. The former gentleman of that name is now a Knight of the Order of the Sword. He is properly Ser Niccolò at the very least.’

The commander, who had placed his gloved hands on the rail, now removed them. He said, ‘I apologise for my mistake. I should like to speak to Ser Niccolò. Indeed, I am astonished that he has not heard our exchange, or our entry. We fired our cannon.’

‘We took it,’ said Gelis in surprise, ‘that you wished to buy fish. Although, of course, all purchases should be made through the factor. Are you having a lucrative trip? Have you collected some very fine cargo?’

‘Is he on board?’ said her victim, flatly and finally.

Diniz considered. ‘To tell the truth, no,’ he said at length. ‘Although we expect him quite soon. Indeed, I should invite you to come and await him, except that I have no authority.’

‘You should invite them,’ said Gelis suddenly and pettishly. ‘I am tired of dull company.’

Diniz frowned at her. He repeated, ‘I have no authority.’

‘Then,’ declaimed the masterful voice from over the water, ‘perhaps the demoiselle would care to be the guest of the
Fortado
for an hour? When Messer – Ser Niccolò comes, he might join us.’

‘Myself, alone?’ said Gelis, stepping back. ‘I am afraid not.’

‘Of course, no. With Messer – Ser Vasquez, if he would do us the honour.’

‘I am afraid,’ said Gelis van Borselen, turning sideways, ‘I go nowhere without female companionship. I shall stay with Mistress Bel.’

‘But bring Mistress Bel!’ cried the commander.

To the uninitiated, the deck of the
Fortado
appeared in good order: it was clean and trim, its awnings in decent repair, and the flask of wine produced for Diniz and the ladies was a good one, and very likely, thought Diniz, one of their last. He had a feeling the crew were below decks with a skin of Baobab juice. He wondered how many crew there still were. Raffaelo Doria said, ‘You are interested, Senhor Vasquez, in our repairs?’

‘You have had some damage, monseigneur?’ said Diniz. ‘We ran aground on a sandbank ourselves. It is easily done.’

‘There’s a tassel off their shades,’ said Mistress Bel. ‘When I’m more myself, I’d be pleased to bring over my needle.’

‘Why, thank you,’ said Raffaelo Doria. ‘We are not in parade order, I fear. We were attacked – you didn’t know? – and had to resort to some patching. Fortunately, we had a veteran of such matters aboard. You know him, I believe?’ He waved his hand. A head appeared above the forward hatch and a big, thick-built man with fair hair emerged with composure and approached, rolling slightly with the tilt of the deck.

It was Michael Crackbene, once sailing-master to Nicholas, who had taken Jordan de Ribérac’s money and helped Jordan bring Diniz from Cyprus. For nine months, Diniz had hated Michael Crackbene, but of course he was old enough, now, not to show it. He said, ‘You found someone to give you a job.’

‘Is it all kinds of repairs?’ said Bel of Cuthilgurdy. ‘There’s a patch-stitch I’m fond of myself, but I’d rather not show you just now. I think it’s the shellfish.’

‘Master Nicholas isn’t with you?’ said Crackbene. He bowed to
the company and, on Doria’s instruction, found a seat. His eyes, discovering Gelis, rested on her with something like amazement.

‘Happily not,’ said Gelis van Borselen. ‘Indeed, I think we too may have to relieve you of our company. From what Diniz tells me, I prefer not to stay in Master Crackbene’s vicinity.’

‘Why, I am sorry to hear that,’ said Raffaelo Doria. ‘Is it because of his appropriation of the
Doria
? You may not know that the ship belonged to Jordan de Ribérac in the first instance, and was annexed by your rash young knight Niccolò. After, I am sorry to say, causing the death of a distant cousin of mine, Pagano Doria. Am I right, Crackbene?’

‘To the letter, my lord,’ said Michael Crackbene. ‘That was when she changed her name to
Doria
from
Ribérac
. And is now known as the
Ghost.
’

‘There is a ship called the
Ghost
in these parts,’ Gelis said. ‘We saw her at Arguim. You mean that is the same ship as your
Doria
?’

‘Well, hardly,’ said Diniz. ‘If you mean the red roundship that started at Funchal. She’s nothing like the
Doria
, and I ought to know, I suppose.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said Raffaelo Doria thoughtfully. ‘Ships are easy to alter superficially. A look inside her would soon tell the truth.’

‘I’m fairly sure it was the shellfish,’ said his oldest guest. ‘Maybe a drop more of your Madeira?’

Crackbene poured it. ‘Certainly, a look inside would be interesting. I, for example, am convinced that it was the
Ghost
and her guns which attacked us.’

‘You aren’t sure?’ Diniz said. ‘Why, was it at night? Then it probably wasn’t the
Ghost
. I told the agent at Arguim I saw a white roundship the previous day with some nasty armament on her.’

‘Indeed, Senhor Diniz?’ said Michael Crackbene. ‘It makes you wonder where she was provisioning. My difficulty is that the ship which attacked us appeared – I may be wrong – appeared to carry not only Master Nicholas, but your good self. With a hackbut.’

‘Crivens!’ said Mistress Bel. ‘Mind you, there’s a lot of them about. I’ve shot them myself, in my time. Gelis, I’ll need to excuse myself.’

There was a wave of suppressed embarrassment. Gelis said, ‘I’ll come with you,’ and got up.

The commander rose also. He said, ‘I am sorry. The lady feels herself unwell?’

‘It was the shellfish,’ said Gelis. ‘I don’t know where …’

‘I shall get someone to take her,’ said Raffaelo Doria. ‘Hey, Tati!
Gahu!
’

The curtain of the poop cabin stirred, and a black Jalofo cherub in a white cotton chemise stood before them, hands modestly folded. Diniz, staring woodenly, identified it as a girl aged about twelve. The commander said, ‘
Dafa fun ope. Biir day metti.
’ And to Gelis, ‘Tati will take her below. There is no need for you to leave us.’ And as the child led Bel away – ‘But to return to what we were saying. Now I see you, I must confess that I would take you for the twin of the man who fired at our sails. Not knowing Ser Niccolò, I cannot say the same of him until I meet him. But Crackbene is amazingly sure.’