Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [20]
Marietta Barovier, daughter of the greatest glassmaker in the world, said, ‘You will pay the cost of that, to the last ducat. And then leave. This contract is cancelled.’
Nicholas smiled at her. His skin glistened. Beneath the ridiculous cap he now wore, his curls dripped; his eyelashes were beaded. ‘It would deserve to be,’ Nicholas said, ‘if you set a master’s price on that glass, and I paid it. I don’t mean to insult you, but I should like you to treat me, too, with respect. Those are the shelves of your rejects. You keep them, perhaps, for tuition. You do not sell them, I am perfectly sure.’
She stared at him. Her black eyes were ringed with brown. She said, ‘How was it flawed?’
‘How? The blue trailing was perfect, but the flowing of the enamels had failed. A mishap in the annealing-chamber. My friends from Damascus tell me they have the same trouble at times.’
She looked at him, then she turned her head and nodded abruptly. A man, bowing low, began to sweep the glass from her feet. She said, ‘It was plain glass your manager spoke of.’
‘It is plain glass I want,’ Nicholas said. ‘But there is profit, and joy, in the making of all things. I cannot teach you or your workmen, but if you care, I can bring a man here, a Syrian. He works my sugar now, in exile in Cyprus. He would come. Signor Lopez here could arrange it.’
‘Come into my office,’ she said. And entering and offering seats, she said, ‘You know something of glass.’
‘Something,’ Nicholas said. ‘But at second hand only. I brought you a gift.’
Gregorio had no idea what he meant. To the quick glance the woman threw him, he could only reply with a smile. What Nicholas drew from his satchel was a mosque lamp. He said, ‘They have lost the means, now, to make them. Soon, they will have to buy from the West. Could you copy this?’
She took it from him. Briefly, Gregorio saw it: an oblong, enamelled and gilded. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But Venice is at war with Constantinople.’
‘I have an agent in Alexandria,’ he said. ‘There is a good potential market, even in war. I have brought carpets to copy, and other things. But I knew you could make the glass if you had an example. Accept it, please. It comes with no obligations. If you decide to make them, you can use other merchants.’
She sat with the lamp in her hands, and looked at him. She said, ‘Perhaps, after all, you are the head of a Bank. I shall look at this. I shall tell you something. I have been impressed by the quality of the goods you have sent me. I learn that you have brought another bargeload today. The yard is full of broken glass. I have no more warehouse space to keep it.’
‘You have enough, then?’ Nicholas said. He was almost smiling.
She opened her lips in a genuine smile, showing blackened teeth, and a sweetness beneath all the weariness. ‘You must know, one never has enough. I have considered what Signor Gregorio has proposed. I am satisfied with the bargain and so, I take it, are the Council.’
‘We spoke of it this morning,’ Nicholas said. ‘Madonna?’
She raised her brows.
Nicholas sat, muscular knees planted apart, wide brow wrinkled. He reached up and scratched under his cap which tilted back, allowing a frenzy of hair to escape. One dimple appeared. He said, ‘I shouldn’t have done that. The trouble is, when you’re new, people don’t take you seriously. Your father must have been a good padrone di fornace.’
‘He was,’ she said.
‘Because they follow you, all those men out there. They know you, and in any case, you are a maestra. It is harder for me.’
‘Signor Gregorio spoke well of you,’ she said.
Nicholas said, ‘My friend Lopez would have been harsher. Madonna, if we agree, there are papers to sign. After that, if I may, we should like to visit our friend the Florentine. He is no trouble?