Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [292]
‘Neither do I,’ Nicholas said. ‘But thank you for telling us. You won’t suffer by it. I have a few ships and need masters. All we have to do is settle these cases. Gregorio? Soon?’
‘Soon, if I had my way,’ said Gregorio. ‘But not as soon as you’d like. I’ve taken this up with the magistrates. It seemed to me it would suit us to have this settled in Bruges, with your reputation as it is, Nicholas, and no one much enamoured of France. They’re willing to allow us to put it to arbitration, but to do that, they need someone representing the Lomellini as well, and the Vatachino, and Simon de St Pol on his own behalf and on his father’s. And two of the three are not here.’
‘Which two?’ Julius said.
Gregorio looked at him. ‘The Lomellini are willing to be represented by their kinsman in Bruges, Senhor Gilles. St Pol and David de Salmeton are at present in Scotland. However, I heard today they are returning in time for the Wedding. Nicholas? Simon is coming to Bruges with his sister. The date I have is the third week in June. As soon as they come, we can start the proceedings.’
‘Christ!’ said Julius. His own face smiling, he looked round the others. Crackbene smiled in return.
Julius said, ‘Well? What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ said Nicholas. ‘We’d all been longing to know when Simon was coming to Bruges. And now we have a date. I think we should celebrate.’
Gregorio cleared his throat. He said, ‘We certainly have something to celebrate.’
‘Well, come on!’ Julius said. ‘Another flask! It’s not so long to wait. And when he comes, I suggest we all go down to Damme to meet him.’
‘Yes. We probably should,’ Nicholas said.
Chapter 42
ONCE, ON A SUNLIT September day nine years before, three young men in a bath had sailed along the canal from the port of Sluys to the port of Damme, and set in train all that was happening today.
One of the young men, Felix, was dead. One, Julius, the ambitious notarial secretary, was now a major shareholder in a bank, and a competent manager, and reasonably wealthy. One had become the founder-owner of what promised to be the richest business in Europe, and was the first man on earth to lead an expedition up the River of Gold, and find his way to Timbuktu from the west. Claes, they had called him when he was eighteen. Now his name was Nicholas vander Poele, Knight of the Sword.
All his friends went to Damme with Nicholas on the day the Scottish ship was due to arrive. She was to sail into Sluys, and her passengers were to take boat for Damme, where horses for Bruges would await them. These were the Scots merchants come for the English-Burgundy wedding. They included Simon de St Pol and Lucia his sister. They included David de Salmeton of the Vatachino trading and brokerage company. Nicholas did not expect them to include anyone else who concerned him.
He had known, from the start, that the others would insist on accompanying him. Julius, because he was Julius. Gregorio and Tobie, Godscalc and Diniz because they knew what they knew, and wanted to protect him from Julius. Nicholas thought, with a shaft of amusement, that he would probably have found it less trying with Julius blundering about on his own. She wouldn’t come. There was no point in pretending that she would.
The day was cloudy and warm. The city officers waiting under their banners were not unlike those waiting nine years ago, except that their dress left something to be desired. With the English bride due in four days, every last ruby was already sewn on somewhere else.
There were a few Scots in attendance among them. The Bonkles, waiting to welcome their John. Metteneye, who ran the Scots hostel, and Stephen Angus, their agent. No churchmen: Bishop Kennedy was dead, and John de Kinloch was not here. Two members of the van Borselen family: Paul the bastard, and Wolfaert his father, to greet Lucia, who had served his Scots wife. And, of course, Joao