Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [74]
‘Perhaps, if she anchors far enough out,’ Nicholas said. ‘In any case, she’s got a good spread of sail and few to chase her. We need her. In Prince Henry’s time, the San Niccolò would have been sailing in convoy.’
Godscalc sat as still as a monk in a psalter, a large hand on each knee of his gown. He said, ‘The old Doria. She’s a big ship for an escort. With a big cargo space. Fifty times as large as the Niccolò. What have you loaded her with?’
‘Horses,’ Nicholas said. ‘And a few things intended for Ceuta. She also has a new master: Ochoa de Marchena.’ Nicholas picked up the thick scroll and pinched it judiciously. It produced an ample sound, like a pea pod many times magnified. Inside was a chart of the Canary Islands. He sat down and looked at it. He needed Godscalc, that was the trouble.
‘Ochoa de Marchena is a pirate,’ Godscalc said.
Nicholas said, ‘Do you think I’d risk an honest man’s skin in an ownerless ship? Although he is honest, I’m told, in his way.’
‘As Mick Crackbene?’ Godscalc said. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t ask him.’
‘Are you indeed,’ Nicholas said. ‘So is that all?’
‘Yes,’ said Godscalc. ‘Provided you agree to leave the girl and Diniz in Lagos, and pick up the Ghost in Madeira without going on shore. And provided that you tell me what you’re going to bring back in her hold, seeing that you can’t sail a roundship across Africa.’
Nicholas inflated his lungs. He unhooked his arms and, assembling his feet under his knees, leaned forward and clasped his hands gently. He looked up. ‘You’re telling me that you’ve heard the Pope’s dead.’
‘You must be glad,’ Godscalc said. ‘Your vows are void. You don’t need to locate any Christians.’
‘I don’t need to,’ Nicholas said. ‘But I’m told that if I go upriver from the Sahel, I may come across them. I’m also told I’ll find baptisable heathens. I thought that was why you were here.’
‘Oh, yes. To baptise them for what?’ Godscalc said.
He had waited so long for the question that, now it came, he let his exasperation show. ‘As you mentioned,’ Nicholas said, ‘the roundship has plenty of cargo space. They wouldn’t be crowded.’
Loppe jerked up his head, and then said nothing. Nicholas outstared the priest. Godscalc said, ‘Nicholas, I am sorry, but I can’t follow your mind any longer. I hope I’m mistaken. But for Loppe’s sake, the question has to be asked. Are you trading in slaves?’
Nicholas said, ‘Prince Henry engaged in it. The Vatachino will, if they can buy their way in.’
‘What are you saying?’ said Godscalc. His hands, sliding upwards, gripped his powerful thighs till his fingers were barred pink and white. ‘That it will continue, so why not take part in it? That there are degrees, within which some sort of purchase might be palatable? That there are savages who, out of despair and starvation, would already be willing to come, and others, gifted like Loppe, who would come gladly, but that they have no idea what good fortune awaits them? What are you saying?’
I am saying, go away and don’t meddle. Except that he couldn’t, aloud. Nicholas said, ‘That neither Loppe nor I can give you an answer. Either the consoling answer you’d like, or the other you don’t want to think about. Why do you think Loppe wants to go back?’
‘To join his family,’ Godscalc said. His gaze, painfully fierce, moved between Nicholas and the African, where it rested.
Loppe returned the look with composure, his eyes the colour of egg-white and ink; his skin smooth and black within his Venetian clothes. He said, ‘I have no family, Father. I was taken at Taghaza, and batch-sold in Tangier for Lagos. I have no one to support. If I went back, all I could bring of value is what I have learned, and I don’t know what I have learned, for I only know half of it. I have to see the rest for myself. There is slavery and there is service. I have worked beside men far from home, who are nevertheless contented.’
Godscalc didn’t at once respond. The silence was one of compassion. Then he turned to Nicholas. ‘Go on with this, if you want him to hate