Caprice and Rondo - Dorothy Dunnett [224]
He said, ‘The crew were sailing the ship. Benecke was sober, now and then. He was expecting M. de Fleury to join him.’
‘What!’ It was Dr Tobie.
‘Along with Ochoa de Marchena. I thought you knew. Ochoa de Marchena and the African gold, split three ways. Ochoa was having it sent on to Caffa, and M. de Fleury and he were to meet there. Benecke expected them to bring it to Danzig.’
His square face was bland. So far as it went, it was probably perfectly true. All these professionals knew one another. Gelis quite believed that Benecke and Ochoa had dreamed of a fine new career with the congenial help of Nicholas and his gold. They might even have tried to persuade him. Two winters ago, they might have succeeded. But not now, when he was safely established in Caffa, with Anna and Julius beside him. Crackbene must know that as well as she did. In any case …
‘You don’t believe it?’ said Crackbene.
‘Benecke’s an idiot,’ the priest Moriz said. ‘Of course, you have reported correctly. You do not, however, know all the facts. Mistress Gelis, may I state them?’
She nodded. There was no harm in it now. Moriz and John, who was not here, already knew, and Diniz, Govaerts and Tobie might as well learn.
The priest said, ‘I speak of the two messages sent Mistress Gelis by or for Nicholas. One was to say that the African gold was not on its way to the Crimea, as Ochoa told Benecke, but was still buried in Cyprus. The other, dated in January this year, indicated that the gold in Cyprus was gone, and that there was no prospect of its recovery.’
‘It was on its way to Ochoa,’ Diniz said. He was flushed. He knew Cyprus well. He had been there during the siege, with Gelis’s sister.
‘Surely not,’ Moriz said. ‘Or we should have heard by now from Julius, at least. Such paeans of triumph! More, the message would not have closed the matter so firmly. John and the lady and I were to say nothing.’
Tobie said, ‘But Ochoa told Benecke it was coming. Maybe he thought that it was. But now his plans must have changed. I wonder if he met Nicholas at all.’
‘He was afraid of the Knights of St John. Benecke wouldn’t let him aboard without gold. My guess,’ Crackbene said, ‘is that the little bastard would run to Caffa and pretend it was coming, so that someone would hide him. Let me sail to La Rochelle this autumn. I’ll find out what’s going on.’
It was agreed. Gelis could see on all their faces the mixed feelings that the story had brought, for she had felt them herself. A little fortune had gone; one which, again, Nicholas had not proposed to keep for himself, but which he had planned to extract for the Bank.
He had been forestalled. By whom had not been discussed. Nicholas had wanted the subject closed, she guessed, to save them all from further danger. Their lives mattered more than the gold. But David de Salmeton’s connection with Cyprus was known to Diniz, and above all to Tobie and Crackbene, who both had reason to loathe him. As the meeting drew to a close, Gelis found herself silently praying that de Salmeton would stay in Scotland, and that these men, whom she liked, would be held by events safe in Flanders.
Her prayers were answered. From Anselm Adorne to the youngest fisherman on the quays, no one could afford to leave Bruges in the second Week in July, during that acutely uncomfortable time when the Duke called before him the representatives of the people of Flanders and reviled them as traitors and misers who had starved him of money for Neuss, and were permitting France to ravage Artois and Picardy.
He was given a hearing. But his demand for an army, to be raised in two weeks on pain of punishment, met with a polite but steadfast refusal. It could not be done. In any case, it was against the Duke’s own best interests. Flanders had already sent thousands to Neuss, and more had been raised to defend their own coasts. It was not their concern to mend fences outside their own country: the Duke’s father had never expected it.