Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [226]
Bel turned. ‘I don’t see how,’ she said. ‘Ye said you and she had separate businesses. That was when ye sold your half of the partnership. So I don’t see how she’ll be harmed by anything a St Pol has to forfeit. Forbye,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘if it damages you, it’ll also gie a wee flecht to the Vatachino. Now. Doesna that make ye feel better?’
Simon said, ‘I find all this hard to believe. Claes – vander Poele is not on board?’ One of the soldiers shook his head. They had gathered at the ladder to wait for him.
‘Then,’ said Simon, ‘I suppose Signor Urbano and I should – should leave for the moment.’ He paused, clearly confronting for the first time the practicalities of what was now threatening him. He said, ‘Do I take it that it is your intention, all of you, to stay at the quinta?’
Gregorio looked at Diniz, and smiled. He said, ‘I hope so. Although there is rather less space than I’d wish for. Perhaps, if you have friends in Funchal who could accommodate you …?’
Simon’s eyes were on Bel. He said, ‘You would throw the boy out?’
‘The boy?’ she said. The glint in her eyes had quite vanished.
‘Henry is with me,’ said Simon. ‘I brought him. I rather wished vander Poele to set eyes on him. Now, of course, it must wait.’
‘Your son Henry?’ said Diniz. Bel’s eyes went to his face.
Gregorio said curtly, ‘What do you wish to do? You are his father. He has a nursemaid.’ He had, a girl of seventeen with long, opulent hair.
‘Leave him,’ said Bel. ‘A child of four will make nothing of some fancy household in Funchal. Leave him. He knows me a little. Then I hope ye’ll settle your business and go. Scotland must be fair longing to welcome ye back.’
Gregorio stayed, and watched with the others as the pinnace left, with the rest of the party on board.
Diniz said, ‘Dear Gregorio.’ He looked pale. ‘Come and meet Vito and Melchiorre and the others again, and look at what we’ve brought. We have a lot to tell you.’
The essence, perhaps, was related in that moment. The detail had to wait until the next day when, in his bureau at Quinta do Sol, Gregorio listened to Diniz and Bel, refreshed by their first night’s rest on land.
By then, he knew what the Ghost had carried. He had heard how, coming north, the San Niccolò had called at all the places Ochoa might have visited. Nowhere had they heard even a rumour of the three mule-loads of gold, the cargo of gums and spices and dyes which had been transferred to the roundship at the Senagana.
At the Senagana itself, they had found only one Portuguese who had been at the post when the two ships were there. He said the San Niccolò had stuck in the estuary, and the Ghost had taken her cargo to lighten her. Once over the sandbar, the Niccolò had taken it back.
‘Crackbene knew they didn’t,’ Gregorio said. ‘He knew Nicholas had pulled off some trick, although he wouldn’t admit it. And Ochoa’s mouth had been shut by some bribe. So who has it? Who bribed them?’
‘Someone who waylaid the Ghost on her way north,’ Diniz said. ‘We tried to find out who. Every ship has to put into port at some stage. We asked in every harbour for a list of the ships passing through at that time, but they were all routine, and harmless. Whoever did this was rich. If he could bribe Ochoa, he could bribe some sweating, half-crazed harbour official.’
Diniz paused. ‘If you hadn’t sent your message, we couldn’t have done even that. We shouldn’t have known that had happened. And they probably counted, anyway, on our never returning.’
‘Especially,’ Gregorio said, ‘if the Vatachino had a hand in it. But now we know what the Ghost had on board. Isn’t it time to make the theft public? You would have a powerful ally. If it’s the San Niccolò’s cargo, a quarter of it belongs to King Alfonso.’
The blue damask in which Bel was encased stirred. She said, ‘Do you want to link the San Niccolò and the Ghost?