Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [301]
‘So we go to court,’ Simon said.
‘But,’ said David de Salmeton, ‘it is not, is it, merely a matter of money? I do not care for what I hear of Raffaelo Doria.’
‘They can’t prove it,’ said Simon.
‘But if they could?’ de Salmeton said. His eyes were on Nicholas. He said, very softly, ‘Messer Simon, I think someone would like you to take this to court. I would remind you that someone has already pointed out that the sale of arms to the natives of Guinea is punishable by death.’ He held Nicholas still with his eyes.
Far off, trumpets brayed in a fanfare. A remote voice spoke; there was a roar of acclaim. Music struck up. Gelis was looking at him, her eyes pale and wide.
Nicholas said, ‘I brought you here today to listen to you, and so that you could hear what I had to say. And so that, whatever conclusions we reached, they would still remain private to us, and capable of a private solution.’
‘A private solution?’ Simon said. He was frowning. Amid the vanity, the self-interest, perhaps he was coming to reason. Or perhaps not.
Nicholas said, ‘The Ghost is mine, but I may not be able to prove it in court. The crimes of the Fortado are yours, and can be shown to be so. Give me the Ghost in free ownership, and I shall absolve you from the deeds of Raffaelo Doria, and forget that you ever sold arms.’
Julius sighed. David de Salmeton said, ‘And the insurance money?’
‘Repayable to me,’ Nicholas said. ‘Your partners in the Fortado will, I am sure, be persuaded to help you. Gregorio?’
Gregorio rose. The papers he laid on the table were already drawn up, and there were copies for each man.
Nicholas said, ‘That is your statement accepting my account of the Ghost. And that is mine, absolving you from any harm the Fortado caused on that voyage. If you sign, you will hear nothing more.’ He didn’t add – it didn’t matter – that the Fortado had sunk.
They signed. Both his cases against them were in fact without flaw. He wondered if Simon would ever realise it.
He should have felt elated, when it was over, and de Salmeton and Lomellini had gone, followed after a moment by Simon who had stopped as if he would speak, and then, with a curious laugh, had departed. He was elated, after a bit.
Julius said, ‘What were you thinking of? You could have won both these suits!’
‘No. He did as he should. It was a day for lenience,’ Godscalc said.
‘I thought so,’ Nicholas said. ‘Why has everyone gone? The lists are empty! Have they all killed one another?’
‘Don’t get excited,’ said Tobie. ‘They had to stop the tournament to make time for the banquet. If we hurry, we can get there before they start eating. Gelis, how do you like receiving a ship for your morning-gift?’
‘It isn’t morning yet,’ said Nicholas complainingly.
‘So she’s got it without working for it. And my God,’ Tobie said, ‘it will be morning by the time they finish this banquet.’
It was three o’clock in the morning when the Duke’s wedding feast came to an end, and his guests rose from their places in the great timber hall at the Princenhof, brought there and lovingly laid on his tennis court through the practical labours of Nicholas.
Painted and draped in white and blue wool, hung with tapestries and furnished with cloth-of-gold tablecloths, it had been transformed. Piled with gold in the centre was a buffet containing half the Duke’s treasures; the effect, Nicholas thought, was much the same as the Timbuktu-Koy strove to attain. Among the singing, dancing, erupting artefacts had been a dromedary with a genuine black man on its back, dressed like a mountebank.
Gelis had watched it, and then turned. ‘Couldn’t you stop them doing that?’ Beneath a barmican of veiling, her face was pale and her lids extraordinarily heavy: she looked like a piece of elegant sculpture encased for some procession in tinsel. Her ring was so new it caught all the light.
‘His name’s Jacob,’ Nicholas said. ‘He’s a baptised Mandingua and quite pleased with himself, as it happens; he’s never