The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [93]
They ate with the Abbot, and drank a great deal; and it was probably the vodka which loosened Diccon Chancellor’s tongue; and exasperation because in three days he had never had more than a few hours of the man Crawford’s company, and then as interpreter, with the monks crowding about him; or here with the abbot, or exchanging words, briefly, with Nepeja or Makaroff or his friend. At first, it seemed to Chancellor that he and Crawford were being kept apart by the Russians. Latterly, he had begun to wonder if he had been induced to think exactly that.
This was not a roistering, war-addled soldier boy, who had made promises to one girl too many, and had to marry her. For the first time, he understood and believed what Philippa had told Sir Henry Sidney. There was no relationship between them; no affinity, and no possible meeting of interests, he was sure, between the innocence on that side, and the experience on this. If Crawford had married her, it was for his own purpose, and for no other reason. That said, it seemed to Diccon, widower, father and man of considerable vision, that the least Francis Crawford could do was assure himself of the wellbeing of his wife, communicate with her, and, at the earliest moment, keep his promise to release her.
The fellow had not inquired how Philippa was. He had not mentioned her. He had asked almost nothing of events back in England: a policy understandable enough, perhaps, if one considered the fanaticism of the Queen, and the Russian view of Catholicism. If Ivan believed that England still followed the tenets of Henry VIII (why did the Tsar admire him? did he have his eye on the Troitsa?) then there was no need to disillusion him.
Crawford had spoken readily enough about Ivan Vasilievich. He was a great merchant: most of the tithes of the north came to him as furs and walrus rusks: his storehouses were full of goods for selling or barter. It ran in the blood: the brother of Zoe Paleologus, said Crawford cheerfully, had bartered his right to the throne of Byzantium—three times, to three different people.
On trade matters he was informative. He was also disposed to be searching in his own inquiries. Chancellor found himself answering questions about the objectives and standing of the Muscovy Company, the nature of its financial arrangements and the names of some of its two hundred-odd members. He did not require to be told what a joint-stock company was. ‘I have a friend,’ said Mr Crawford gently, ‘who keeps me in a state of celestial enlightenment on legal matters. Seven peers then, and twenty knights, most of them members of the Privy Council or Household … it would suit such a panel, I imagine, to trade as a body, through paid employees such as Mr Grey and Mr Killingworth here, rather than individually, as your merchant members in the other, regulated companies must do. Seven aldermen … the Solicitor General … the Attorney General … ten customs officers … six holding office in the Mint … and Sebastian Cabot as your permanent Governor. Mr Chancellor, your company can hardly fail to be the most successful merchandising venture in London. And who owns your ships?’
‘The company do,’ said Diccon Chancellor. The rest of the table had fallen silent. He wondered, as he had wondered for three days, just how much English Grigorjeff knew. Or Nepeja, for that matter. ‘They were bought and refitted with the six thousand pounds’ initial raised capital. The bulk of our members, Mr Crawford, are merchants.’
‘But the Philip and Mary, which you are hoping to see in the spring, is a royal ship?’
‘Chartered,’ Chancellor said, ‘by the company.’
‘And the timber and hemp you are anxious to buy, Mr Chancellor, will be used in the royal dockyards instead of the masts and cable the Council used to purchase from Danzig?’
Beside him, Chancellor could feel the faint, rising uneasiness of his three merchanting colleagues. George Killingworth said, ‘This is a small part of our cargo. Our remit includes the purchase of large stores of wax——’
‘Used,