Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [189]
The youth had big hands, not overclean, and even as he ripped open the ties the half-rotted material gave way so that the object within would have fallen, had the Timbuktu-Koy not caught it and laid it on his knees. It consisted of many sheets of thick vellum, covered with elegant writing in several colours. The last time Nicholas had seen it was in his cargo at Kerasous. He had been told a dealer had bought it in Venice. He hadn’t known until now that the dealer was acting for Loppe.
The youth Umar said, ‘You give short measure! Where is the cover? The jewels? The boards?’
‘No, no,’ said his father. ‘Here is surely something of worth. Katib Musa?’
The imam joined him quietly on the dais. He said, ‘I have never seen this, although I have heard of it. It is a scribe’s copy, a Greek scribe who was familiar with Arabic. It is a copy made ready for translation, but perhaps never transcribed. Would I be right?’ He looked at Nicholas.
Nicholas said, ‘It came from Baghdad to the Empire of Trebizond, before it fell.’
‘It will be the jewel of my lord’s library,’ said the Katib Musa.
‘And this?’ said the Timbuktu-Koy in his courteous way, indicating the box that still remained.
Nicholas opened it. The two pairs of lenses glimmered from their silk beds, and struck with light the frowning faces of the Timbuktu-Koy and his heir. Nicholas said, ‘If my lord will permit,’ and, lifting a frame, set the box down and, in turn, mounted the dais. He said, ‘Give me leave,’ and touched the Koy’s face and retreated.
The Timbuktu-Koy, puzzled, turned his head, and where his eyes had been, there flashed circles like mirrors. Throughout the hall, men drew in their breath. The imam Musa said, ‘My lord, the Venetian has given you sight. Lower your eyes to the book.’
The great turbaned head bent, heavy on its aged stem. A horn-tipped finger touched the page, and then travelled down it. Muhammed ben Idir said, ‘I am reading the words of Abu Abdallah ben Abderrahim of Granada, and my heart is filled with joy. How can such a treasure as this come from Trebizond?’
‘Through trading,’ Nicholas said. ‘And a trader has brought it back. I would stay in your city, and exchange my wealth for your wealth, so that all may prosper. Do I have your permission?’
The old man lifted the spectacles from his nose and looked at them closely. His hand shook. He said, ‘You have come for gold. How will you pay?’
‘I am fortunate,’ Nicholas said. ‘I have many shells.’ He spoke with confidence. He had not so many, but the Timbuktu-Koy didn’t know that.
‘And manuscripts?’ said the old man.
‘Certainly. They will be sent for, as soon as my lord makes his wishes known,’ Nicholas said.
‘But you have no more of these,’ said Muhammed ben Idir, touching the heavy rims under his hand.
‘That,’ said Nicholas, ‘is what I have brought to offer for gold. But first, I should have to see the extent and quality, forgive me, of your supplies. Gold is not hard to find, but few of the princes of Europe have ornaments such as these. They are made in secret, and are bought by great men, so that others may know they are great. Also, they buy so that their scribes can read and copy and paint, and the words of holy men may be multiplied.’
‘I see,’ said the Timbuktu-Koy. ‘I am attracted by your proposition. But the city owns many traders, and on a matter as vital as this, I must seek their advice. I would have approach the lord Akil ag Malwal, the lord And-Agh-Muhammed al-Kabir, the sons of Muhammed Aqit and the imam Katib Musa. What say you? We, by tradition, trade across the great desert with the peoples of the north. Here is a trader who comes to us from the west, from the sea. Behind him may come many more. He wishes gold. What is your answer?’
The men he called were those most richly dressed, except for the imam, and the Tuareg And-Agh-Muhammed al-Kabir was as aged as himself. It was he who said, ‘I trade with Florence and Venice. I do not wish to lose my trade to strangers from Portugal. Let them pick up the dross from the coast.’ Round his neck, on a mismatched