Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [225]
Lomellini opened his mouth. ‘They said you were dead,’ Simon said.
‘Did they?’ said Diniz. ‘Well, I was left for dead at one point, but Nicholas saved me. Who said I was dead?’ His voice sharpened. ‘And who gave you leave to – Have you sold the quinta?’
‘To me,’ said Urbano Lomellini. ‘He said –’
‘Claes attacked you,’ Simon said quickly. ‘You wouldn’t know. You were close to death. Filipe saw it.’
‘Filipe saw it?’ said Diniz. ‘Filipe shot me.’
There was a silence. ‘You’re protecting Claes,’ Simon said. ‘Even now. That was why I broke up the partnership. Your infatuation for –’
‘His name is Nicholas,’ Diniz said. ‘And admiration is different from infatuation. I’m not surprised Filipe thought I was dead. I should have died if Nicholas hadn’t followed and found me. I had let him down: he had no call to, but he did. If you don’t believe me, Vito there tracked me down with him. And if you don’t believe either of us, ask Bel. She helped treat the wound. Is that proof enough?’
‘So no crime has been committed,’ said Lomellini. ‘How fortunate that vander Poele was not here, or we might have found fraud compounded with murder.’
He was looking at Diniz. Diniz said, ‘You asked who I was.’
‘I am Urbano Lomellini, Senhor Diniz, merchant of this island, and a wiser and less trusting man than I was a few minutes ago. I hope, in our dealings, we shall not be harsh with one another.’
‘Of the Fortado?’ Diniz said. ‘The family with the stake in the Fortado? Did she arrive?’
‘A month ago,’ Gregorio said. He felt weak with anticipation.
‘With her cargo?’
‘With a very fine cargo,’ said Gregorio. ‘The family Lomellini and my lord Simon have profited greatly.’
‘And, one assumes, the Vatachino,’ said Diniz.
The face of Urbano Lomellini returned his gaze stolidly. Simon said, ‘The Vatachino?’ with irritation.
The eyes of Diniz, moving round, rested on Gregorio’s face, and one of them flickered. He said, ‘In view of their majority stake in the Fortado. In view of the shares Signor Urbano allowed the Vatachino to have. Three-quarters, I believe, of all the Lomellini holding in the Fortado’s excellent cargo? The success of the voyage must have delighted David de Salmeton.’
Simon said, ‘This is not, of course, true?’ He spoke to Lomellini, who hesitated.
‘I am afraid it is,’ Gregorio said. ‘It is another matter you may wish to take up with Signor Urbano on shore. Meanwhile –’
‘Wait,’ said Urbano Lomellini harshly. He was deeply flushed. ‘Wait. The Vatachino are rivals of the Banco di Niccolò as well. You knew – Nicholas vander Poele knew they helped finance the Fortado. So how did Raffaelo Doria meet his death?’
‘Killed by traders,’ said a comfortable Scots voice from behind them.
Bel of Cuthilgurdy, emerged from the cabin, toiled towards them. She wore the uniform robe of blue damask wrapped round something much less than her former rotundity. Nevertheless the smile under the fresh linen headcloth was wider, trained on Gregorio, than it had ever been, and the eyes above the hollow cheeks and blotched skin sparkled naughtily. If she saw Simon, her gaze slid calmly past him.
She said, ‘They’re having a terrible job with the chests, getting them unlocked and put by for the searchers. Diniz, I think ye’ll need to give them a hand; all that gold’s a fair scunner. Did ye tell them how much we were suing them for?’
No one spoke. Diniz said, ‘I haven’t had time. They were just asking about Raffaelo Doria.’
‘Well, I’m glad they realise,’ Bel said. ‘D’ye like the robes? It was the best I could do: we got the bolts off a man in the Canary. I’m glad they realise what Doria and his men did to us. Luring us to our deaths, pretending to be King Bati’s natives. Attacking the San Niccolò in the river, and killing every last man except Melchiorre there, before persuading the blacks to ransack her. There’ll be a great cause to be pleaded for that, with costs and compensation. Diniz, ye ought to come, if these gentlemen will excuse us.’
‘Bel!’ said Simon de St Pol. To do him justice, he had composed himself. His