The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [262]
‘Ah. Yes,’ said Sir William. ‘The Muscovy Company has been much in our minds.’ There was a short pause, which no one filled. Then Sir William said, ‘In Master Dimmock, as you may know, the Company has an energetic and able member who has already proved in the past his ability to conjure men and munitions from the air. It may be that he could do so again. If it were possible for such a thing to be done, without depleting the Queen’s stocks in the Tower and without, of course, distressing her royal spouse and his advisers by bringing the matter unnecessarily to their attention, the Council, I must tell you, would feel they had no cause to complain.’
‘I see,’ Lymond said. He looked to his left. ‘Master Dimmock. Is it possible to supply the items on the Tsar’s list on those terms?’
Nothing of this, clearly, was novel to Master Dimmock, but he preserved the fiction nobly. ‘I see no reason why not,’ he said.
‘And in reasonable secrecy?’ the Bishop of Ely inquired. ‘You understand; none of this arrangement is directly the Council’s concern, and none of it, therefore, may be set out by the Council in writing. You supply these goods, if you supply them, from your own sources and at your own risk. If King Philip’s advisers discover it, we shall not be able to contravene any veto he will impose.’
‘I think,’ said Master Dimmock, ‘that we can promise to take all reasonable precautions. Mr Crawford, if you wish to proceed, then the Muscovy Company will help you.’
‘I was sure you would,’ said Lymond gravely.
It was over. Master Dimmock served them all with his very best wine, to celebrate the occasion, and Sir William went off with the De republica packed in his box, and the prospect of a thousand gold pieces’ profit to be made from the Cardinal. After they had gone, Lymond stood for a while, looking at the empty place where the Cicero had rested on his book-laden shelves, and then locked his papers away and, banging the door, ran downstairs to call on Nepeja.
There, rejoicing had already broken out: the room seemed to contain half the two hundred members of the Muscovy Company and the wine had been round three times already. Master Nepeja’s business had also prospered at last, and on the desk by the window lay the last draft of the league and articles of amity concluded between the kingdoms of England and Russia, ready to be copied and confirmed under the Great Seal of England. He was free to see to his merchanting and to sail.
He was just sober enough to rise to his feet when Lymond came into the room, and then, after the first frowning moments, to realize what Lymond was saying. The second part of the treaty was in operation also. The Privy Council had acceded, in secret, to the Tsar’s other demands.
The implications of that were beyond Osep Nepeja’s interest or understanding. The talks were over, and without prejudicing his or anyone’s trade. He flung his arms round the unexcited person of the Voevoda Bolshoia and scavenged him like a bass broom with his beard. The Voevoda surprisingly did not give way more than a steel fence before him, although he did exchange the greeting, smiling, in the Russian fashion. The sound of his round Russian speech, after two hoarse weeks of Rob Best, made tears spring to the Ambassador’s eyes and he blew his nose, belching. Lymond left as soon as he could.
‘Well?’ said Danny at supper. There was no news of Peter Vannes and his casket from Venice. There had been no further threats from the Lennoxes: no communication from the Queen. No word from Philippa, who was preparing with the rest to leave London for a week on the 15th. King Philip’s married sister the Duchess of Parma and his widowed cousin the Duchess of Lorraine had arrived at Westminster and were to stay at Greenwich for Easter as well: in order, it was said, to persuade the lady Elizabeth to marry the Duke of Savoy. Since everyone knew that the pretty Duchess of Lorraine was not one of Queen Mary’s favourites, a gloomy Easter was anticipated.