Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [184]
Nicholas muttered. The imam, hearing him, replied sharply in Arabic. The Governor, a youngish man in a smart feathered hat and engraved cuirass, said, ‘What? You will kindly speak Genoese in this room.’
The imam bowed. ‘Lord, excuse us. The man Nicomack was complaining that the size of his fee had not been discussed. I have told him that it is sufficient for him, a Mameluke servant, to do his utmost to please you. I have said that, if he interprets with skill, I am sure your lordship will be liberal.’
‘And if he does not, he will suffer for it,’ said the Governor. He looked at Nicholas. ‘I want you to question this dog. Ask him whether he is not Ochoa de Marchena, former seamaster and pirate, escaped from lifetime service to the Knights Hospitaller of St John at Rhodes. Ask, if he denies it, what is his business in Soldaia, and why was he hiding. Ask who helped him come to Soldaia. Ask the name of his master.’
There was a pause.
‘Well?’ said the Governor.
‘Lord. I am sorry, lord. But I cannot remember so many questions,’ said Nicholas piteously; and jumped as the Governor brought his stick down with a crack.
‘Why am I surrounded by idiots? An interpreter who is a fool, and a criminal who cannot understand simple Italian. How did the Knights communicate with you?’ demanded the Commander.
Ochoa de Marchena, who spoke seven languages, gazed at him helplessly. Nicholas, ranging himself hurriedly on the side of authority, translated the question into Catalan and repeated it loudly in faithful copy of the commander’s bullying tone. It contained a little addendum in the same language. ‘You stupid bastard, how did they trace you? How do you suppose we can get you out?’
Ochoa glared at him. The volley of Catalan, when it came, nearly overturned his own vocabulary. Nicholas turned to the Governor. ‘There is a Spanish Langue, and Spanish sailors on Rhodes. He asks how many tongues the Governor has.’
‘He asks for a flogging,’ said the Governor. ‘Put the questions.’
What followed represented, in its macabre way, the funniest piece of theatre for which Nicholas had ever invented a script, with Ochoa de Marchena, of the scowling, toothless face and ferocious invention, as his unreliable partner. The Governor, slightly pink, put the questions.
Nicholas, having no need to translate them, put a number of questions of his own in convoluted Spanish to Ochoa, adding, as the fancy took him, some convenient insults. Ochoa replied with equally unseemly comments about Nicholas, about the Governor, and about the individual soldiers of the garrison who had incurred his displeasure. He dispensed, at intervals, nuggets of information about the routine of the garrison and the exact disposition of his cell. He expressed the opinion that Nicholas would have made a mess of lifting Moses out of his basket, and might as well go back to his pretty woman and leave Ochoa to escape on his own, which he could in the blink of an eye if someone would slip him a knife. Nicholas said irritably that he didn’t have a knife, and Ochoa was to do nothing at all until he heard from him.
To the Governor, who was understandably keen to take some share in this torrent of Spanish, Nicholas reported that the man said he was not Ochoa de Marchena but a man who took orders for parrots; that he had just crossed the Straits of Kerch on a camel, but the camel had died, and so had his parrots, and he had been forced to conceal himself from his creditors. As soon as spring came, he would travel back to Seville and return with a fresh batch of birds.
‘And if he has no money, how does he pay for this travel?’ asked the Governor.
‘He awaits friends,’ Nicholas explained, at the end of a tirade. He hoped Ochoa was listening. ‘He has two friends arriving soon in Soldaia. They will vouch for him, and they bring money, he says. He says he has committed no crime, but would be prepared to give you or your family a free parrot, when he returns.’
‘Is this true?’ the Governor said.
The imam said nothing. Ochoa said (in Catalan), ‘Is the poor man expected to believe this? Could you