Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [148]
‘Twenty yards,’ said Nicholas groggily. ‘Twenty yards of silver coins, enough to see us through the winter. Are you glad I came back?’ And grinned as she flung her arms round him and kissed him.
‘I think we should do it again,’ Anna said, sitting back. ‘But I expect the servants would worry. Now what’s all this about money? Show me.’
Snug in their long, narrow channels, the coins made no sound as they issued. He unpicked only a corner to show her. They were of silver, the same as the coins in the bag: Karaï Mirza had been thoughtful. ‘I don’t suppose,’ Anna said, ‘that we could be wholly improvident and invest them? If we really are allowed to establish our trade, we’d need something to start with.’
‘As it happens,’ Nicholas said, ‘that has been taken care of as well. I didn’t want to excite you too much at once. But, Anna … you remember my African gold? I think I might be going to find it.’
She blinked; then tilted her head, leaning back on her hands. ‘Well, of course. I thought your boots seemed too heavy.’ But she had turned pale.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. After all the bad luck, it sounds mad, but it’s true. Sit. I’ll fold this out of the way. Then I’ll tell you everything that happened at Qirq-yer.’
He made it brief, because it was mid-afternoon and the household would wonder, although it was natural enough that he should be giving her his accounting. Throughout, she sat very still. He left out the name of Karaï Mirza, but told her most of what he had done to earn that sash full of silver. He tried to explain. ‘The Khan understands his people, understands the country, understands the enemy a hundred times better than I do. But I know what the western world, and not only the Genoese, can supply him with. And I can let it be known what he needs.’
They were sitting on separate chairs, and her face was in shadow. She said, ‘And you did all this, for Ludovico da Bologna, and Julius.’
‘And for you,’ Nicholas said. Their eyes held.
At some point, she said, her voice low, ‘And the man in the cave, Friar Lorenzo. He will not give you away? He knows who you are.’
‘None of them will give me away,’ Nicholas said. ‘They trust the Patriarch.’ Karaï Mirza’s receipt had brought him unscathed through the portals of Caffa: they had not even turned out his baggage. Wearing the sash, he had been somewhat relieved.
Anna said, ‘And your long-lost sea captain is to meet you in Soldaia, but the monk could not say when. That might be dangerous too. That might be a trap.’
‘I trust Father Lorenzo,’ Nicholas said. ‘And Ochoa is already a fugitive from the Genoese and the Knights of St John. I don’t think he would send me word simply to harm me.’
‘But then why?’ Anna said. ‘Does he love you so much? Or does he love the gold, and cannot reach it without you?’
‘That is very possible,’ Nicholas said. He paused. ‘I am sorry. I forget I am not alone. If something happens to me, you would be left on your own until Julius could come.’
‘The Patriarch would be here till the spring,’ Anna said. ‘I managed my own life in Germany before I met Julius. Am I not allowed to be afraid for you as a dear friend?’
After a moment he turned his head, breaking their gaze. He had not answered. Anna sprang up and said, ‘The letters. I have kept you from reading your letters. Here they are. Let me go and see to your room while you read them. It is probably a millet store now, or a place where they hang all the cheese.’ He took the letters and looked after her as she walked steadily out: the black hair, the straight, lissom carriage; the Polovtsian drums. He picked up the first letter.
It was one of three from the same source, although you would have had to know the watermark and ink of the outer cover to identify them as coming from Venice. Since his first, anonymous notes to the Casa di Niccolò, a method of acknowledgement had been established, as was usual between a Bank and its informants. All the Bank’s responses so far had been minimal. Sometimes, to his amusement,