Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [87]
‘They say the transaction can’t be reversed. Jaime was forced to supply all the figures and documents, and although my father’s notary went to Funchal and objected, it seemed my uncle was free to dispose of his share. The notary said there were more lawyers for the Lomellini than he knew ever existed. He begged St Pol to wait, but he wouldn’t.’
‘Did he give a reason?’ Nicholas said.
Tonight, stunned by the enormity of his idol’s conduct, Diniz had lost all constraint. He said, ‘My uncle told them I was weak, and under your influence, and would give you anything that you wanted once you got here. That was why it had to be drawn up so quickly.’
The factor had entered the room and was standing quietly by the door. Something about the way he stood reminded Nicholas of Jorge da Silves. Diniz said, ‘You have to let me come with you.’
The factor spoke, his voice lighter than might have been expected. ‘That would not be wise.’
Nicholas said, ‘It might be very wise, if you were an impediment to your family. Since you’re not, stay and fight.’
‘What with?’ Diniz said. ‘You have no money, you told me. Otherwise you could take my share now.’
‘Thank you,’ Nicholas said. ‘All I need is a loss-making venture. Senhor Jaime, I have ridden a long way, but not to rob you or Diniz. Might we sit? I have a proposal to make.’
They hesitated, but they sat. He took the cushioned box that remained and, setting his hands on either side, looked from one to the other. The factor’s face, broad and parched as a fig, returned the look with a steady attention. Nicholas said, ‘I have no money to offer, but I have a man of exceptional skills, who has managed my Bank in Venice for almost three years and who could tell you, in a matter of weeks, whether this estate could be made to support you. He is in Funchal at the moment. If you and your lawyer approved, I could lend him to you, at no cost at all to yourselves.’
‘But he would expect a share in the business?’ said the factor.
‘No,’ said Nicholas. ‘If I bring back Guinea gold, we may talk. Even then, there is no obligation. And as well as Gregorio, you would have Gelis van Borselen to help you. There might be more hope than you think.’
The factor pondered. Protruding from his rolled sleeves were arms scarred and knotted with labour, and his face at this moment worked to produce a deeply ruminative sniff. Then he said, ‘I will get my wife. Senhor Diniz should eat. I must think of this.’
‘Of course,’ Nicholas said. ‘Now is not the time. But I shall leave you the name of the man, and a note for him. And I am sorry – I have already eaten. I didn’t mean to delay your own supper.’
The boy fell asleep before the food came, comforted by the promise of help and by the sound of earnest voices in congress. The factor’s wife, arriving with soup, curtseyed to Nicholas and poured him a bowl, but laid another by the boy’s side without waking him. She murmured, ‘Fatherless child!’ She had been in bed, and wore a rough mantle bundled about her and her hair thrust somehow into a cloth. Nicholas reflected, without envy, that he was only five or six years older than Diniz but was more used to suspicion than compassion. And was not fatherless. That was the trouble.
He sighed, and ate the soup, and some bread, and continued his low conversation with Senhor Jaime. A good man, he suspected, doing the work of two people out of the fondness he had had for Senhor Tristão.
What he learned was not encouraging, although he didn’t say so. The little estate, shorn of its other half, could provide a living perhaps for a year. Until he came back. If he didn’t, it would be Gregorio’s problem.