Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [254]
Julius said, ‘He’s coming. Nicholas. He’s crossing the Sahara next month. He should be on the coast by September at the latest. We have to send the Ciaretti to Oran.’
He couldn’t see himself, his face flushed, his eyes shining, but he saw the reflection of it, had he known, in Tobie’s face, and in that of Margot. Margot cried out, and ran forward. Somehow, he found himself hugging her. She kissed him, and they both turned to Tobie. Tobie, his face scarlet, said, ‘I want to be kissed,’ and she hugged him as well. She was crying.
Tobie said, ‘Let me see it. Not you, woman, men first; you get the wine and the cups. Let me see. What does he say?’
‘It isn’t from him,’ Julius said. ‘Or at least, it isn’t his writing. There. Just the instruction, the bastard, as if it will be easy. September. She’ll have to sail in July. Where is the Ciaretti?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Margot said, jug in hand. ‘My heavens, you’ve got enough ships. The Adorno, the Niccolò – you can get one of them ready.’
‘And I shall sail with her,’ said Julius. He emptied his cup, tossed and caught it.
‘No, you won’t,’ Margot said. ‘You’ll be in Scotland with Bonkle by then, and Gregorio will be here. And over my dead body is Gregorio going to Barbary. No, my sweet men. This ship may have to wait in Oran a long time, and if she has to stay all autumn and winter, then she’ll do so. The ship herself will be his welcome. The rest can wait.’
‘Maybe,’ said Tobie.
*
The May azalai did not come. The sun burned; the temperature began to rise daily. After waiting all month, Nicholas began to assemble a caravan of his own.
It wasn’t easy. Now the worst of the summer heat was upon them, and no camel-trains would arrive until autumn. He spent some time talking to agents; persuading those with heavy stocks or a willingness to run into debt to add their camels and drovers to his. It need not be too expensive, he explained. There were always caravans going north from Arawan, and he would join his force to theirs, and share costs. He only realised afterwards that when they agreed, it was because Umar also had spoken to them.
All the same, he had to use most of his reserves to hire his own camels and six men to drive and defend them: eight hundred ducats to take himself and his provisions and the few objects he had selected on the long journey north. It was two thousand miles to Oran. It was five hundred miles to the salt mines at Taghaza, where Umar would leave him.
The eventual caravan, it began to appear, would amount to some two hundred and fifty loaded camels, of which six would be his. There would be rather more than that number of people.
So small a company demanded experienced men. The dealers, drovers and guard who made up its larger part were mostly veterans of the double trans-Saharan journey. There were not many of them. No one tried the two-way crossing more than once in twelve months, or, indeed, more than five times in a lifetime. But Umar was only going to Taghaza and back, and Nicholas was crossing once only. The camel-station at Arawan was four days away, and a guide had been selected to take them there.
Nicholas had, in the end, only formal farewells to make, since it had long been known he was leaving. He was given a feast in the Ma’ Dughu, which the commander Akil also attended. The Koy made his gratitude known, but also made it known, behind his hand, that Europeans belonged on the coast, and it was time that this man returned there. The sultan Akil was amiability itself, in his regard for what the lord Niccolò had done, for the benefits he had initiated, for the wisdom of his decision to leave. The evening was long, and exhausting.
The farewells of the scholars had been different. He possessed already a cargo of books; it was his