Race of Scorpions - Dorothy Dunnett [324]
Tobie still had his cap on. It made him look like a normal physician. He said, ‘Is this a choice? Go with the army or stay with the sugar? Or are you going to do anything new?’
‘There’s the Bank,’ Nicholas said. ‘I haven’t been in Venice since Gregorio really established it. There’s a house. I bought some land in the lagoon. There’s a galley at Venice, and some day we’ll part the King from our round ship. The sugar can manage quite well with a manager and some supervision. We’ve missed out on the refineries, but there might be something else we could develop further west. All we have is in the Levant, and it’s risky.’
‘Because of the Turks?’ Tobie said.
‘And other reasons,’ Nicholas said. ‘You remember Henry, the Duchess of Burgundy’s brother? He ran a school of navigation in Portugal. The idea was to find a spice route round about Africa. It’s a good idea. But whoever does it will ruin everyone who depends on the Eastern route including the merchants in Alexandria and Cyprus and the Venetian and Genoese colonies in the east. Meanwhile, sugar’s beginning in Madeira already. The island is fertile, it can draw on slave labour, it could send scores of ships to Lisbon in season to feed the growing sweet tooth of Western Europe, and the price of sugar will drop. Combine that with a new route for importing spices, and you can see that the African coast is where trade will develop, and Venetian banks will feel the chill from it. I don’t want ours to be one of them.’
‘Africa? Portugal?’ Tobie said. He had flushed. Nicholas knew what, alone of them all, he was thinking of.
Nicholas said, ‘Simon’s there. I don’t want to stir him up. On the other hand, the vicomte seems to think he’s set on stopping us. He could, if we stayed in the East and he swamped Europe with sugar and spices.’
‘Diniz?’ said John le Grant, without looking up.
Nicholas said, ‘No, my dear John. I am not using him as a spy.’
‘All right,’ said Tobie. ‘But you’ve said nothing of Bruges. That’s your market. That’s where the Charetty company is, even though you’re no more than an observer.’
‘An interested observer. They’re my step-daughters,’ Nicholas said. ‘Tilde owns the Charetty company. I haven’t forgotten her or Catherine. Or Godscalc and Julius. They may have ideas what we should do. But the House of Niccolò isn’t in Bruges, it’s in Venice. If it’s anywhere. You may not want to continue with it. If you don’t, you can take what you’re owed. That won’t be a small amount, either. The rent of the casals and the ship, the fee for the army, the profit from all the sugar, the new land we’ve been given amounts to a very greal deal.’
‘Do you want us?’ said John le Grant. He sat back, his arms folded, and regarded Nicolas from his freckled face with its shock of roaring red hair. He said, ‘No. I’ll say that in a different way. I could stay with the Bank, but do my work independently. Tobie could stay with the army, or at Kouklia, or hire himself out as a doctor, and still remain on your strength. Loppe could stay and manage the sugar, or the fiefs, or join Gregorio in Venice, or partner you in Spain or Portugal or Africa or wherever your lunatic ideas will take you. Crackbene could run a fleet here, or operate a ship for you anywhere there is a cargo you wanted to carry. I think we all want to stay with the Bank, although I can’t speak for Julius and Godscalc. But do you want to be alone?’
It was, of course, the question he should have been asking himself, and the question he had avoided. It was linked with Bruges and the Venetians; with the insidious princesses of Trebizond, with Primaflora and Katelina and the Mamelukes and most of all, with the warring Lusignans. No, not most of all. Most of all, with Famagusta.
Nicholas said, ‘There’s what I want, and there’s what is best for the company. I may think I’ve seen all I want to of war, but I can’t walk away from it. Someone said it’s no fun any more, now that it’s not a sport but a profession. It never was a sport.