Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [244]
The next caravan after that brought to Nicholas, better than silk, the news he had silently longed for. The San Niccolò was at anchor in Lisbon. Godscalc and Gelis were safe, and his gold. So he could do as he wished.
He was mobile now, too. When the river would allow it, he visited some of the places he had passed full of fever on that first journey from the Gambia. He found his way to Djenne, and looked at bricks, among other things. He rode out to quarries. He talked to planters and fishermen. When his Feast Day began to approach again, he brought Umar to sit by his fire and said, ‘Tell me about the Songhai.’
By leave of the Koy, he had continued to reside in the house to which he and Godscalc had been taken. It was close to the schools, and he could pay for it. One of his earliest anxieties had been that he might be living on charity, or at Umar’s expense. Umar had reassured him. When the San Niccolò left, part of her gold and part of her cargo had remained, to support Nicholas. ‘For life, should you wish,’ Umar had concluded, smiling.
The unbroken gravity of his European days had left Umar now: in his own home he sat writing and crooning, his infant son sprawled on his lap; in a week or two, in December, his next child would be born. Among his own, he was loved and respected. Visiting Nicholas, he bent on him the same friendly, considering gaze he always used, and answered his question.
‘Long ago, the Songhai came from the south and settled in villages all down the Great River for a thousand miles, where they made a living as farmers and fishermen. They looked like me’ – he smiled again – ‘although perhaps not quite so big. Then, six hundred years ago, they were conquered by Muslims, the Lemta Tuareg from the north, who made Gao, where you have been, into their capital.
‘And they prospered, so that the King of Mali became envious and one of his generals conquered Gao, and then Timbuktu. As a result, all the Songhai kingdom became part of Mali until in time Mali weakened, and others rushed in. In the case of Timbuktu, the Malians were driven out by Akil, the commander of the Maghsharen Tuaregs, as you know.’
‘Who allowed a Timbuktu-Koy to rule, at a price,’ Nicholas said.
‘Of course. And now, a new, gifted leader has appeared in the Lemta dynasty of the Songhai, who seeks to recover what the Songhai kingdom has lost, and add more. Where he is fighting, it is dangerous to travel, and as you have found, there are some here in the city who fear he will take advantage of the divided authority to pounce. But, Nicholas,’ Umar said, ‘have you not heard this from the Timbuktu-Koy or his son?’
‘Who carries news in Timbuktu? The storks?’ Nicholas said. ‘Yes, the Koy’s son called me to the palace this morning. The city is frightened, and has lost confidence in Akil and his garrison, who descend at tax-time and drink fermented liquor, and break open warehouses and sometimes help themselves to maidens who complain that they were not willing. The Koy’s son wishes to know how a city of the north would defend itself.’
‘And you said?’ Umar asked. He wore the bland expression that Nicholas enjoyed most.
‘The same as I said to the commander Akil, who called me in yesterday and asked the same question. There are things that can be done. If they wish, I shall help them. But Timbuktu is not Djenne. It has no natural defences. A higher wall will deter an ill-equipped enemy. A larger garrison, well armed and provided with food and water, could sustain a short siege. But do you wish a large garrison? There has been trouble already. Attack may not come, or may be intermittent. Even Astorre and his soldiers would find such heat, such idleness tiresome, however well they were exercised and diverted. And these are nomads, unaccustomed to staying long anywhere.’
‘Akil consulted you?’ Umar said.
‘You might call it that,’ Nicholas said. ‘He sent a troop of horse to bring me, whether I wanted or not, and informed me that if I wished to continue to