Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [110]
So he said, ‘Demoiselle. You want to punish me, even to loading me with the guilt of your very possible fate. It’s a little hard on your friends. And at this rate, I might not think it a punishment.’
‘You may die first,’ she said. She spoke without humour, and for the first time directly. Diniz drew in his breath.
Nicholas said, ‘But you haven’t tried to bring it about?’
‘I prefer a clear conscience,’ she said. ‘There are plenty of others less scrupulous.’
He said, with fleeting amusement, ‘And that’s a clear conscience? Well, maybe Father Godscalc would agree. He doesn’t approve of my methods, as your Mistress Bel will no doubt shortly tell you. I expect he is raging up and down the San Niccolò at this moment, coming as near as he can to cursing Jorge da Silves and certainly me.’
‘Over the slaves?’ she said. ‘Was he manacled when your sailing-master took them on board? He could have stopped it. He could have threatened to denounce you and the Ghost as I did.’
‘He could,’ Nicholas agreed. ‘But no one would have believed him, would they? Can you see Father Godscalc condemning us all, including Diniz, to be hanged in public for piracy? Death to the crew. Confiscation of both the Ghost and the Niccolò. Disaster to my Bank and all those dependent on it and on Diniz. He may be pig-headed, the padre, but he’s not blind deranged.’
Diniz was silent. The girl herself showed no change of expression, although the curious pricking of colour showed itself under her cheekbones. She said, ‘You are upsetting the parrots. And you think Father Godscalc could save them by no other means, such as paying to free them himself? I imagine even Bel would have opened her purse for him, if he asked her. He is not a man of God. He is your minion.’
‘I wish he were,’ Nicholas said. ‘In fact, someone else on board has given more thought to the care of these captives than you or me or Father Godscalc, and it is his suggestions which are going to be followed. Let me tell you what they are.’
He made it simple, the story of Loppe’s design for the slaves the San Niccolò carried, and of his hopes for changing the trade in the future. As he spoke, the boy coloured up, but the girl sat like a stone, her lids tightened as if against glare. At the end she looked up. But it was Diniz who exclaimed, his eyes brilliant, ‘I wish my father had heard you. And Lopez. But the blacks you already have, can it be done? Will the Niccolò put them off near their homes?’
‘Those who wish it,’ Nicholas said. ‘I’m going to say now that I don’t agree with Loppe over this. I think most of them will beg to leave, and will die.’
‘I am sure,’ the girl said, ‘that enough will be kept to make a profit. And how is Loppe – Lopez? – to repay you?’
She was implacable, but he hadn’t really expected a sunburst of charity. He wondered if Bel had asked the same question. He said, ‘He will repay us as guide and interpreter. He speaks Mandingua and Jalofo and Arabic as well as Christian languages. He knows the Gambia and the lands to its east as do few other blacks whom you might pick up in Lagos or Madeira. Whomever the Fortado employs, it will be no one of that calibre, I can promise you. So, yes, you are right. We need Loppe, and he wouldn’t have come without our support over the slaves. You know we are going to be together now for four months? We are committed?’
‘I assumed so,’ she said. She either felt nothing, or she could cover everything she was thinking. She added, ‘I don’t expect to stay on the ship when you leave her. I can ride. I can walk.’
‘Among lions?’ said Diniz