Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [257]
Nicholas said, “It is for the demoiselle to agree, and for Meester Julius to advise. But I suggest the guns stay in Piacenza, the silver is lodged with Messer Tani in Bruges and the cloth is sold by your filiale here and Geneva, and the profit, less your commission, added to our account here with you for any use captain Astorre may have for it. Messer Julius?”
Messer Julius agreed. He could hardly do less. He said very little as the manager of the Milanese Medici and his brother, with formality, began to take both their lists and their leave. Then, seeing that Nicholas didn’t propose to cross the threshold, he himself accompanied the noble bankers downstairs and over the yard to their horses. Outside it was dark, and the swifts had gone to rest.
Returning, he heard the crash of glass breaking as he made the last turn of the staircase, and his foot crackled on splinters as soon as he entered the room. The wine flask, fortunately empty, lay under a window where it had arrived with such violence that the entire floor was glittering.
“I’m sorry. It slipped,” Nicholas said. He looked dyeshop pale, but otherwise perfectly stolid.
Julius said, “Well, you’ve made a sty of the floor, haven’t you? If you hadn’t also made a fortune at the same time, and if you weren’t married to my employer, I’d think about beating you. That’s either Loppe or the landlord coming up to find if we’ve wrecked his windows. You explain. And once he’s got the place cleaned, I want to hear what’s been going on. Everything.”
But he didn’t. While Loppe, completely silent, swept glass, Nicholas went off belatedly to make all the arrangements for their morning departure. Before he came back, Julius had commanded another flask of wine, this time of pewter, and was holding a personal celebration which led him at last to his bed.
He lay for a while, thinking. Being amused by a youngster who has the audacity to marry his employer was one thing. But working with or under him was quite another. The way the doctor handled Nicholas might have warned him. If he was going to join them all in some new venture, he would have to learn to think of Nicholas as what Portinari had called him – a colleague.
He had left the Abruzzi ready to accept whatever appointment was going, while the army was laid up at least. Nicholas, easily tired to begin with, had put off describing the venture, but before their arrival at Bruges he would certainly know all about it. From what he’d seen tonight, he had no doubts that it was something profitable. This was a very young man with gifts which, of course, he had noticed. But now there were signs of something much more. The curious thing was that Felix, too, had begun to partner the servant he’d once used so carelessly. Had taken part in these negotiations. And more amazing still, had kept his own counsel.
Felix had gone. Now the heirs of the company were the little daughters, and the men they would marry. But that was only the Charetty company. Already, Nicholas was venturing out on his own. Soon, with the right people behind him, he might accomplish more than anyone dreamed. Which would mean sinking one’s pride. Becoming his colleague. And helping to guide him, perhaps, a little further than he might have gone on his own.
Had Nicholas been older, there would have been no question. Sheer curiosity would hold him. As it was, it remained to be seen if he could tolerate Claes, the demoiselle’s husband. But it was worth trying. By God it was.
He rolled over, and by the time Nicholas returned, was asleep. It would have pleased him to know that Gregorio in Bruges, much before him, had reached the same conclusions precisely.
That year, the Flanders galleys came early to Bruges. In the first week of September they floated under blue skies outside the harbour at Sluys, and the crowds on the headlands watched the light sails come billowing down. Then, straight and precise as if painted, in gold and red and blue and sparkling