Pawn in Frankincense - Dorothy Dunnett [86]
She made a pretence of considering. ‘What was the name now? I have such a memory. Smeet? Gonzales?’
‘Maria’
The Governor laughed merrily, his face a light shade of green. ‘I fear the Duquesa knows only too well. Señor, how can I begin …?’
‘No, no!’ said Marthe. ‘You must not tell me! What could it have been! Tay-lor? Killi-grew? Robert-son?’ The distinguished, wide-browed face laughed, and then was swept clean of laughter. ‘You are hurt!’
‘A little,’ said Jerott. ‘It doesn’t matter. Just——’
‘He is hurt!’ Springing to her feet, Marthe swung to confront the Governor, her face hard and bright as her sharp little teeth. ‘How is this? What have you done to Mr Blyth? I warn you, the Grand Master of his Order …’
His jaws sawing the air like a starling on the edge of a puddle, the Governor finally emitted a croak. ‘You!’ to the Syrian. ‘Explain!’
With the only unalloyed satisfaction of that hideous night, Jerott heard the Syrian try, in five hand-wringing minutes, to explain. It sounded exceedingly lame. He had been told that, under guise of seeking a child, the perfidious French Special Envoy might try to gain access to Mehedia. And when one such had come, he had assumed … The man had been overpowered and left to await the Governor’s pleasure … and then the unfortunate fire, of which he knew nothing, nothing …
Jerott took a deep breath. ‘Your Excellency … fool though this man may be, I begin to see that folly and not ill-will may have been at work. Much of what he says is indeed truth. I sought a young Christian soul in Mehedia, a boy enslaved by mischance, for whose safety his father was prepared to pay many thousand ducats in gold. Believing this a mere spying device, our Syrian friend may well have deceived himself. Learn now that the boy I sought was indeed in the care of the Syrian’s sister. As an earnest of his goodwill and yours, let him be found, and no more need be said of this matter.’
Almost parallel with his own voice, the secretary’s low translation came to an end. The Syrian’s face, like a weeping child’s, puckered. ‘Many thousand ducats of gold?’
‘For the return of the boy, alive and well. Some of this of course,’ said Jerott smoothly, ‘would be the rightful property of the city.’
Sitting up, the Governor addressed the Syrian sharply. ‘Where is the child?’
‘Bey Efendi …’
‘Speak! Does he live? Where have you taken him?’
‘Bey Efendi … with her livelihood destroyed in the fire, my sister lost heart.… She took ship today, with the children, to find a new home elsewhere.… I do not know where she is bound!’
Jerott’s voice was even sharper than the Governor’s. ‘What was the ship called?’
‘I do not know! Yes, yes! I remember, Efendi. It is an English ship called the Peppercorn.’
‘What was her cargo?’ said Jerott. ‘The name of her master, her pilot, her officers?’
‘I do not know! But she will write, Efendi! She will write to tell where she is; and then shall I seek out the Lord and inform him. Thousands of ducats in gold! And all my silk vanished!’
Jerott stared at the Governor. ‘A sad mess, Your Excellency. I wonder how far I may rely on this information finally reaching me? I fear I must ask you to make yourself responsible.’
‘I shall. News of this ship will be brought to me: I shall see to that, as soon as this woman writes to her brother. Regardless of cost, I shall dispatch it to you, Mr Blyth, at Malta.’
Hell. Jerott, flogging a sick brain, looked solemnly at the uneasy Spaniard. ‘Not to me, señor. This information is for one more exalted by far. Address it to Signor Leone Strozzi, Prior of Capua. That is the man whose path you have so carelessly crossed.’
‘Madre mia …’ said the Governor. ‘And your own plans, Mr Blyth?’
To rejoin my ship somewhere off Djerba, as soon as I may arrive there, ‘said Jerott austerely. ‘I imagine a horse might be forthcoming? An escort …?’
Donna Maria sprang to her feet. ‘But Mr Blyth will of course come with us. We go to Jerusalem, Jerott. Why not come with us first? Does Malta need you so badly?