Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [97]
“Claes,” said Tobie. “Tell me about the cannon that had an accident on its way to the King of Scotland. And the avalanche that fell on the Lancastrian English. And this famous knack you have with puzzles and numbers. And then try to make me believe that you’re sitting with straws in your ears, picking up stable gossip.”
Sitting cross-legged, Claes gazed back at him. He looked exactly like someone with straws in his ears. He looked like a large, clean-shaven hermit about to make out a case for a new hut. Bitterness filled Tobie. He saw no reason not to tell Claes exactly what he thought of him.
Tobie said, “You want to be rich, of course. You want to force the people of Bruges to bow to you instead of beating you. You want clothes and jewels and a mistress who isn’t a servant, and you want to parade them in front of Jaak de Fleury and his wife, and Katelina van Borselen, and captain Lionetto and the Scotsman Simon. You’ve picked Julius’ brains, and got him and Astorre safely off to battle, and you’ve got an excuse to go straight back to Bruges with secrets to trade, and no one to answer to but a vapid youth and a widow who needs an intelligent, lively young person to help her. Will you marry her, Claes?” said Tobie. “I’m sure she’d have you. You have such a way with the girls.”
Claes said, “I told you I don’t want a partner. You became involved by mistake. You’ll hear nothing more about any of it.”
He spoke in a different voice. Nor did he look like someone with straws in his ears.
Tobie said jibingly, “In spite of someone knowing that I know all that you know?”
Claes said, “All they’re concerned about is preventing the appearance of a new alum mine. If you withdraw, they have nothing to worry about. You’re the only person who could have found it.”
Tobie’s eyes opened, watering. He sneezed, and was not blessed. He thought, quickly and intensively into his kerchief. He took his nose out. He said, “I see. So much for hair dye and love potions and all the talk about plant patterns? Quilico didn’t tell you where he thought the alum might be?”
Claes said, “Only that it was in Lazio, which is a very large area around Rome, and inside the Papal States. That’s why there’s no point in backing da Castro. As soon as it’s found, the Pope and no one else will exploit it.”
Tobie said, “How wise of you not to have told me. I might have embarked on the whole scheme myself, with my uncle’s protection. I still could, couldn’t I? Find the mine, if it exists, and produce proof of it. Because the Phocoea company won’t otherwise pay to suppress it, will they?”
The friendly look had returned to Claes’ face. He said, “I don’t see why you shouldn’t do just that, Master Tobie. Someone might as well have the use of the information.”
Tobie said, “Why not you? You said you didn’t need a partner.”
“Oh,” said Claes. “That was for the courier service. No. People would talk, wouldn’t they, if I spent weeks tramping hillsides and interviewing Levantine merchants and alum miners. Sooner or later, other people will find the deposit anyway. It offered a quick profit, that’s all, for someone who could give time to it now.”
“I see,” said Tobie. “And what have you told the Phocoea operators?”
Claes unfolded his legs to the floor and put his hands between them. “That they’ll have proof by the spring that an alternative mine does exist. If you want, I’ll tell them the proof will come from you. If you don’t want that, I’ll tell them that there’s no mine.”
Tobie said, “They won’t believe you.”
Claes smiled. He said, “You’ll be safe.”
And, of course, he would. Because of Giammatteo.
The candle wavered. Half an hour. It must almost have gone. Tobie said, “You know you deserve what’s happened. You set it all in motion. If they