Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [190]
‘It is my thought,’ said Akil the commander. He had sound teeth, often displayed.
‘I agree,’ said a young man of the Aqit family. ‘But we pay at present whatever the Venetians or Florentines ask. Would they not offer more, if they knew they had rivals?’
‘What!’ said Akil the commander. ‘Would you place wealth above the souls of your fellows? These men are infidels, and that man is their priest. But for Umar, they would have extorted from us the secret source of the gold, and returned with mighty hordes to wrest it from us. You know this.’
‘Forgive me, but I, Umar, do not know this,’ said Umar-Lopez. ‘There were Europeans so desirous, but they are dead.’
‘Certainly,’ said And-Agh-Muhammed, and, lifting the chain from his neck, tossed both it and its appendage to the ground. ‘Most of them are dead: my own family killed them.’
‘Most?’ said Nicholas. In place of carpets, the floor had been strewn with fine leopard skins. Jorge’s whistle glinted through dusty fur, the words San Niccolò plain on its side.
The old man looked at him. ‘Were they of moment? One escaped, a young boy.’
‘They were of no moment,’ Nicholas said.
Umar glanced at him, and away. He said, ‘The lord Niccolò had no wish but to trade with you. He will tell you whether or not hordes will follow him. I do not think it likely.’
‘Umar is right,’ Nicholas said. ‘The journey from the sea has cost many lives, and few if any will want to follow us. I tell you this as a Fleming and a Venetian, although my ship and part of my cargo are owed to Portugal. I have no wish to destroy whatever bargains you have made with other nations. Nor do we wish to do more than honour your faith. It is not our purpose to subvert your peoples.’
‘Indeed?’ said the imam Katib Musa. ‘It is not the news I have heard from the Gambia. Your holy man has not confined himself to addressing those of his own faith.’
Godscalc lifted his head. Shaved, his chin showed corpse-grey below the tan on his cheeks. Umar said, ‘He has remonstrated, as you have, with witch doctors, and with as little success. It is true, he competes for the souls of the heathen. Do you fear the power of his preaching?’ He was smiling.
The imam smiled in return: at him, and then at the chaplain. ‘I respect him,’ he said, ‘but I do not fear him. Until he learns our language, perhaps.’
‘Then, as to the gold?’ the old man enquired.
It was the man of the Aqit family this time who replied. ‘My lord knows that there is a little in store. In three weeks or four, the salt caravan will arrive, and its goods pass to the market. In four weeks after that, the gold for which it has been exchanged will come back. There will be a great deal. I have no objection to the white traders paying for part of it.’
‘Nor I,’ said the Timbuktu-Koy. He, too, was smiling. The smile faded. ‘It does not please you, I see.’
‘Did I hesitate?’ Nicholas said. ‘Only because then we cannot leave in the spring, but must beg your indulgence to establish our party here until autumn. If such a thing can be done, you see me happy.’
‘Naturally it can be done,’ the Timbuktu-Koy said. ‘Yes, my lord Akil? Agreed, my lord And-Agh and those of Aqit? Katib Musa?’
‘You have my agreement,’ said the Katib Musa. ‘Although it seems to me that, did you desire it, you could take the gold that is here and sail before the rains come. But rumour says that you have plans to journey east?’
‘We are strangers, and curious,’ Nicholas said, ‘but we mean no harm to anyone. As to the gold, we do not know whether to wait for the greater portion or not, but consider it wise, having come so far, not to hasten home unless we hear of a reason. And positioned where we are, that is unlikely.’
‘Positioned where you are?’ said one of the young men of the Aqits. ‘Are we off the edge of the world? A caravan takes only six months to come and go from the Maghgreb. A message can travel from Fez to Timbuktu in two months. If you have an agent, you will have news from him.’
Nicholas stood very still. ‘Yes, I have an agent,’ he said.