Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [41]
‘I have a choice?’ Nicholas said. ‘How courteous. In that case, I shall join you in the bottega below, but not immediately. I promise not to abscond: indeed my partner Signor Gregorio will go with you, and stay till I come.’
‘We are not, I am afraid, empowered to deal with Signor Gregorio,’ said the man Martin. Despite the red hair and blue eyes, his Italian had a tinge in it of Catalan, and his face was Latin rather than northern in style, its nose long, its jowls heavy. ‘It is here and now, with yourself, or below.’
He was not, so far, speaking loudly, although it was clear enough from where Margot was standing. In the further parts of the room, the event might be passing unnoticed. Music played; the polite conversation continued, though muted. Nicholas said, ‘I rather think I shall throw you out.’ His own servants were moving towards him.
The red-haired man looked at them. ‘Trained in your army? Even so, I might be heard to make a point or two before they knock me down.’
‘And I should be heard to make an answering point or two after you had gone. Or we could debate the points below, in the bottega, when I am ready. I am sure that is what you prefer. Gregorio, go with them.’
Gregorio looked at him. The red-haired man stood still. Godscalc’s face was watchful and heavy but Julius beside him was bright of eye. Tilde looked frightened. For a moment, anything could have happened. Then the man Martin snapped his fingers.
One of his clerks, holding a document, hurried forward. Martin took the paper and extended it to Nicholas. ‘Our claim for twenty-five thousand ducats,’ he said. ‘There is nothing to discuss, but since it seems to alarm you, I shall wait for you below.’
His bow included not only Nicholas but all those within earshot. He retired, Gregorio leading the way. He and his men had gained the head of the stairs when Nicholas, following swiftly, said, ‘Wait!’
The man turned, one foot on the step. Nicholas said, ‘It seemed to me that your view of the world could be bettered. Allow me.’
His hands, touching the man Martin’s face, drew back and busied themselves with the back of his head. He stepped aside. Martin, frowning, his fists bunched, jerked himself violently free and switched his gaze to the salon he’d left. His eyes flashed.
Margot saw she had made a mistake about the man Martin. His eyes didn’t flash. His eyes, greatly diminished, looked like fish eggs. The glare came, Margot saw, from a pair of eyeglasses fixed to his nose and securely tied to the back of his hat in such a way that dislodgement was virtually impossible.
Whatever view of the world he had held, it hadn’t improved it. He groped with one hand. With the other, he tried to prise off the lenses. He staggered and began to fall down the steps.
Gregorio made some effort to catch him, but Nicholas stood and watched him crash between the wall and the balustrade and finally slither full length to a landing. For a moment he lay, and for a moment Nicholas looked down at him. Then Gregorio brushed past and ran to drop on his knees by the fellow, while Nicholas returned to the salon.
The doorway was crowded, and there was a good deal of laughter. Someone slapped Nicholas on the back. He said, ‘He’s broken them. I regard that as an insult. I shall deduct the price from the twenty-five thousand ducats.’
The gentle laughter increased, and a passage opened to allow him to re-enter and move about, as before. There had been no point in concealing the crux of the encounter. They all knew what had happened by now, although no one there would be so ill-bred as to mention it.
The Cyprus income had gone. The Signory had swept out half his reserves with a loan. And now he was being brought to law on some charge which, if proved, would convict him of fraud and cost the Bank the equal of a year of its profit.
No one showed impoliteness, but at the same time, no one stayed long after that. As, group by group, the gathering thinned,