Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [118]
The floating market was an immediate success with the Fortado, starved of proper provisioning since Funchal. Diniz, leaning languidly over the rail of the Niccolò, observed the summary nature of the transactions and deduced that the vendors were well aware that the factor had been absent since daybreak, while the buyers were not. This view was confirmed by a hail which presently reached him from across the water. Messer Raffaelo Doria presented his compliments, and would be honoured to speak to the gentleman Niccolò vander Poele, whom he believed to be on board. The language he used was Portuguese.
It had begun. Diniz, removing his gaze from a pleased scrutiny of certain patches and scars on the flanks of the neighbouring ship, peered at the speaker, who looked like a comito. ‘The gentleman?’ observed Diniz, after a while.
‘Niccolò vander Poele. The Fleming.’
Gelis van Borselen, her crown heaped with sun-silvered ringlets, appeared beside Diniz and smiled dazzlingly over the water. The distant comito bowed. Diniz also sent him a smile. The comito, after a pause, repeated, ‘The Fleming?’
‘I am a Fleming,’ said Gelis. ‘And shall be happy to speak for my race. You have some matter to raise?’
‘Yes. That is, no. That is, senhora, your servant. It is a gentleman I seek.’
Diniz threw back his shoulders. ‘I am a gentleman,’ he said. ‘Is there some doubt?’
‘A Flemish gentleman,’ said the comito. ‘Named Niccolò vander Poele.’
‘There is no such gentleman,’ said Diniz. ‘You are misinformed.’
‘But –’ said the comito, his voice rising.
‘That will do,’ said another voice, the voice of authority. It was not, as Diniz had hoped, the voice of Michael Crackbene. It came from a well-built gentleman in a doublet and hat almost worthy of Ochoa de Marchena, except that as well as expensive, his clothing was tasteful. Also his accent was not Spanish but Genoese, and his language, when he took the other’s place at the rail, was not Portuguese but Italian.
He said, ‘I am Raffaelo Doria, commander of the Fortado. Do we misunderstand you? You must certainly have on board your licence-holder, a Flemish gentleman of the name you have heard. Or is the San Niccolò no longer trading?’
‘Ah!’ said the new, dulcet Gelis. ‘But sir, as Senhor Vasquez tried to tell you, you have been misinformed. There is no gentleman here of that name. The former gentleman of that name is now a Knight of the Order of the Sword. He is properly Ser Niccolò at the very least.’
The commander, who had placed his gloved hands on the rail, now removed them. He said, ‘I apologise for my mistake. I should like to speak to Ser Niccolò. Indeed, I am astonished that he has not heard our exchange, or our entry. We fired our cannon.’
‘We took it,’ said Gelis in surprise, ‘that you wished to buy fish. Although, of course, all purchases should be made through the factor. Are you having a lucrative trip? Have you collected some very fine cargo?’
‘Is he on board?’ said her victim, flatly and finally.
Diniz considered. ‘To tell the truth, no,’ he said at length. ‘Although we expect him quite soon. Indeed, I should invite you to come and await him, except that I have no authority.’
‘You should invite them,’ said Gelis suddenly and pettishly. ‘I am tired of dull company.’
Diniz frowned at her. He repeated, ‘I have no authority.’
‘Then,’ declaimed the masterful voice from over the water, ‘perhaps the demoiselle would care to be the guest of the Fortado for an hour? When Messer – Ser Niccolò comes, he might join us.’
‘Myself, alone?’ said Gelis, stepping back. ‘I am afraid