Scales of Gold (37 page)

Bel said, ‘They say the King can make ten children in two weeks and sometimes three in a night, and want to know if white men do better.’ She stopped while Tati went on translating; and then added, ‘And they ask whether the white will come off in the – in the act. Tati has told them it doesn’t.’

‘Bel!’ said Gelis, shocked.

‘Talking of ghosts –’ said Raffaelo Doria, ‘and in this country,
they are sometimes closer at hand than you would think – you haven’t answered my question. As the factor has said, he need not be involved. I am sure none of us wish to trouble him, even Crackbene. And I needn’t mention my own experience with a revenant – yourself, my dear Messer Niccolò, who appear to have been in two places at once very recently. But we are mystifying everyone. Why don’t we retire – the King is eating, and happy – and work it all out?’

‘It’s the shellfish,’ said Bel of Cuthilgurdy. ‘I knew the moment I saw ye. But that’s a very good place down below, even though you’ve got all the bales sorted out just in front of it. That’ll be the cloth that the King wanted kept for him?’

‘Yes,’ said Raffaelo Doria. Oddly isolated, Jalofo hilarity continued to ring through the caravel.

‘Lovely stuff,’ said Bel of Cuthilgurdy, poking busily among the heap of her packages and heaving out a long roll wrapped in a woven palm mat like a fish. ‘Here’s what I mean, if I open one end. Do you see it now, Gelis? I don’t need to show ye, Signor Raffaelo. Lovely stuff for me and for you, but the wives wouldn’t like it. The factor wouldn’t like it. I don’t know if even the King in Lisbon would like it. Master Nicholas?’

Clutching his points and his bandage, Nicholas peered. He said, ‘What a pity. Is there a lot more of the same?’

‘Bales and bales,’ Mistress Bel said. ‘All set out ready to lift.’

‘May I see?’ said the factor.

Nicholas blinked. ‘It’s for Signor Raffaelo to say.’

Raffaelo Doria began to speak and broke off. It was Michael Crackbene who placed his bulk between the article and the agent and responded heartily. ‘And show the signor our buying mistakes? He would never trust us again.’

‘But perhaps,’ Nicholas said, ‘there are other bales, elsewhere stored, which would prove to have cloth better chosen?’ He raised the parcel and gave it to Diniz, who nearly dropped it.

‘You insist?’ said Raffaelo Doria.

‘If you want the pepper,’ said Nicholas. ‘The King could hardly be expected to accept unwelcome goods in exchange. And one Portuguese ship would share the poor reputation of the other. Come. Have the cloth brought up on deck and give us all the pleasure of seeing it.’ He paused. ‘Unless there is anything else to discuss?’

The factor looked up from the lady who was trying to feed him a locust bean. ‘You are not, then, transferring the gold to the
Fortado
?’

‘No,’ said Raffaelo Doria. ‘No, we are not. Or not, at least, at the moment.’

*

Returned to the
San Niccolò
that evening, they wept.

‘Doria’s face!’ Diniz cried.

‘The King’s face!’ Mistress Bel moaned. ‘When he found the bales full of cloth and no guns!’

‘And we have one excellent new handgun inside the wicker,’ said Nicholas. ‘It was your doing, all of you. Diniz knew the
Fortado
was carrying arms when she was turned back from Ceuta. Mistress Bel –’

‘Oh, Bel, laddie,’ she said. ‘Life’s going to be too short for titles.’

‘– Bel trampled over decorum and got herself down below, to verify they were there, and Doria was clearly going to sell them. Bel, you can unwind my points as well as my bandage any day. And the demoiselle –’

‘Mistress Gelis,’ said Gelis.

‘That’s daft,’ said Bel shortly.

The mind of Diniz floated far above bickering. ‘Gelis was wonderful,’ Diniz said. ‘The lies she told about the
Ghost
, and about Funchal, and how we all boarded the
Niccolò
. And she kissed the King.’

‘It was rather hard to avoid it,’ said Gelis. ‘I also had an offer from two of the ladies. My favourite moment – my own favourite moment was when the King hove in sight. Were they real spectacles?’

‘Do you mean it?’ said Nicholas. ‘How he managed ten inseminations in two years would be a mystery, unless you had seen what we’ve seen of his wives.’

Gelis said, ‘I notice you didn’t sell them any spectacles. Nicholas –’

‘Claes,’ he said. And then, ‘Listen. That will be Jorge and Godscalc and Loppe.’ And raising his voice, ‘Melchiorre?’

The curtain drew back. ‘They are coming,’ said the second mate in Florentine Italian. ‘Messer Niccolò, it is a triumph.’

‘Perhaps,’ Nicholas said. ‘Shall we go and welcome them? Bel?’

The plump woman looked up at him. ‘You evil-inclined man, what are you doing?’

‘Welcoming my confessor,’ said Nicholas; and went to the side.

Diniz followed. Now the sun sank low behind them, and its Oriental light lay on the water and the drowsing fowl and the wicker cabins that dotted the shore, and tinged the reedy islands with the colour of Persian brick. The
San Niccolò
’s boats, drawing behind them the rose-tinged arrows of their wake, made their way slowly towards the mother ship, bringing with them Godscalc and Loppe, the sailing-master and his mate, and the oarsmen who had set out with them that morning. What else the boats contained could not be seen.

Diniz said, ‘Nicholas? A boat from the
Fortado.
’

‘Of course,’ Nicholas said; and waited.

Their own two boats arrived first, and disgorged their men, and were made secure while Nicholas stood at the head of the companionway and watched, hardly greeting his priest or his master or Loppe, except with a nod. Then, fast on their heels, came the pinnace from the
Fortado
, with Raffaelo Doria standing in it.

‘Ser Niccolò vander Poele?’ the commander called, and the rosy light beamed on his enamels, and his teeth, and the firm, jowelled, inimical face. ‘A word with you, pray?’

The face of Nicholas, looking down, had no amusement left in it, but he laid his arms on the rail and clasped his hands gently. ‘Monseigneur? It is late.’

‘Late enough,’ said Doria. ‘No one can hear us. The factor has gone to the fort, and the King and his wives have gone home. It seems a good time to resume the little talk we had earlier. You will see that the men with me are armed. You will perhaps even notice that the cannon on the
Fortado
are prepared and pointing this way. I should not like to disturb the fort. But I must insist that you let me tow your boats to my ship with their purchases. It is for your own good. You are over your load-line.’

‘I am? Then you are right,’ Nicholas said. ‘I had better sail. Unfortunately, I have need of the boats, even empty.’

‘Why not? You may keep them,’ said Doria. ‘When I have emptied them.’ He turned.

Behind, their painters loose, their crew paddling idly beside them, floated the
San Niccolò
’s two handsome boats, upside down. ‘I thought I might as well empty them first,’ Nicholas said. ‘Then we can be on our way. Unless you still want them?’

Diniz said, ‘Oh, my God.’ Beside him, Gelis looked pale and even Bel had gone scarlet.

Doria said, ‘You would do even this, to spite my owners?’

‘I should do more than that,’ Nicholas said. ‘Perhaps the Vatachino know it better than you do. Let me wish you good night.’

‘My lord!’ came the cry over the water.

Nicholas, half withdrawn, stayed to watch, and the others stood on deck, listening.

‘My lord!’ It was not addressed to them, but to Doria, and it came from one of the
Fortado
’s own boats, speeding in from the ocean. ‘My lord, the roundship has sailed!’

Raffaelo Doria looked up, and then across the water to the speaker. ‘In what direction?’

‘North!’ came the bellow. ‘North to north-west, and fully loaded!’

The
San Niccolò
rocked. The
Fortado
’s pinnace dipped in silence below. In the sea to the rear, a practised team was righting the
Niccolò
’s boats. The incoming vessel slackened its dash and, on a wave from Doria, turned and made doubtfully for the
Fortado
.

Raffaelo Doria looked up. He said, ‘You had already loaded the gold? You had it carried overland to the roundship?’

‘While you were entertaining the King and ourselves so very hospitably. As you recommended yourself,’ Nicholas said, ‘we elected to keep all our capacity for the Gambia. I’m afraid you left King Zughalin dissatisfied and less inclined to trust the Vatachino in the future – but at least you were not all hanged for arms running. And now I suppose you will leave. Do you have any particular plans?’

‘Only one,’ said Doria, ‘for you personally. As for the rest – am I going north after the
Ghost
? It is tempting, but no. I think that, like you, I shall make my way south. It seems I have all this cloth, and there is no Portuguese factor, as yet, in that kingdom. We may even meet there.’

He bowed, leaving, and Nicholas turned from the rail. ‘Well?’ he said.

‘Three mule-loads of gold?’ Diniz said. ‘Loaded on to the
Ghost
?’

‘On its way to Madeira, and without the
Fortado
to dog it. It should get there,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Gregorio will know how to take care of it. And the Bank, I hope, will redeem itself all the more quickly, and Mistress Lucia’s business. While, as it happens, we have done no more to messieurs Vatachino and Lomellini and St Pol than will deprive them of trade, and prevent them from replacing poison arrows with gunpowder, for what that is worth. Father? Do you feel less despairing?’

Godscalc stood, his face lined. He said, ‘I have taken God’s word today where it has not often been heard. That is all I can say.’

‘Jorge?’

‘It depends whom you trust,’ said the shipmaster. ‘But you could have done little else. And we are free to go to the Gambia.’

‘Loppe?’ said Nicholas.

‘We are not all children,’ said Loppe. ‘Even those who came on board today. Do not be deceived.’

‘You weren’t there,’ said Mistress Bel. ‘They laughed at us, and had cause to. The demoiselle knows.’

‘What?’ said Loppe.

No one spoke. Diniz thought of the pearls, and the light silken hair, and the wager. Doria had believed Nicholas concealed on the
Ghost
, and had been shown to be wrong. Gelis had won her stupid wager, and the child Tati was her reward. Except that the child Tati, freed of her bondage, had clung screaming to Doria her owner; had kissed Doria’s feet weeping; and when finally wrested away, had tried to kill herself with his knife.

The white man was her lord. She was superior now to the Jalofos, who had sold her. She would not survive the shame of returning. And, perhaps, she had been taught to adore Raffaelo Doria as, rumour said, his kinsman Pagano Doria had made himself the first lover of another young girl. So they had left Tati with him.

Gelis van Borselen said to Loppe, ‘You will hear the story from someone, no doubt. I apologised to you once before. This time, you will know that I mean it.’

Chapter 19

T
HROUGH THE HOT DAYS
and cool nights of early December, the caravel
San Niccolò
sailed to her ultimate landfall in the great river belt of the Sahel, and all but the six slaves aboard her lay at night and dreamed of what might be still to come, for the way to the Fountain of Youth, to the River of Jewels, to the court of Sheba and Solomon was ahead, and open.

The
Fortado
had left the estuary first, and Nicholas had made no effort this time to forestall her for, he said, the race was won, and he was content. And that at least seemed true, whatever doubts some of them might harbour about the malice of Raffaelo Doria. Nicholas was content, and his caravel carried the glow of it, however fleeting, on the two hundred miles of its journey.

Of the twenty-five crew and six passengers, most could now expect to be wealthy, if they lived, and if the
Ghost
reached her destination in safety. Seventy kilos of gold three times over had been loaded into the
Ghost
, on top of what she carried already. She was a roundship, and hence would make no great speed sailing northwards, but Ochoa was a fine seaman, and a good fighter, and she carried a prime weight of ordnance.

As for the
Fortado
, said Nicholas, she was welcome to proceed south and buy whatever the Gambia traders had hauled to the mouth of the river. Then with any luck she would turn and go home, leaving the upper stream and its secrets to others.

What did he mean by its secrets? What else but finding out where it led? Did it join with the Senagana, as some said? Did it link with the east-flowing river men called the Joliba? And was the Joliba an arm of the Nile, flowing east to the heart of Ethiopia? Nicholas wished no harm to the
Fortado
going to Gambia, he said, but he would like to see the tip of her mast now and then, and the direction in which her guns might be currently pointing. And once she had got to the Gambia, he would very much like to see the back of her.

He was not altogether stupefied by good fortune.

There was, none the less, something fey about Nicholas – and his caravel. Since the departure of the
Ghost
, she had changed. When, on the first day of their sailing, Godscalc said, ‘What has happened?’ Bel of Cuthilgurdy smiled and looked up from her sewing.

‘We’ve become mummers; barefaced maskers, my bodach. You and Lopez and Senhor Jorge did the serious work. The rest of us were thrown on our wits; made to jink our way into the
Fortado;
forced into cheatry; compelled to trust one another. I would tell you we gart Gelis laugh, if I thought you’d believe it. Hence what you might call a truce.’

‘Including Gelis?’ said the priest.

‘That would be rash,’ said Mistress Bel. ‘But there’s a reasonable understanding between her and Diniz. And she’s less cocksure than she was with young Nicholas. Not that the waste of life we’ve seen could be forgotten, but he’s managed to sweeten it.’