The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [105]
“Tobie knows it. And Julius,” Gregorio said. “They will help him.”
He spoke firmly. He would not have her guess what in his mind was painfully certain. That Nicholas, despite every promise, would have said nothing to Julius or Tobie or anyone else about the man behind Pagano Doria.
She left, with her escort, in a week. Before that, Gregorio was much in her company. She was making a long journey and there were dispositions to make, and papers to put into his care. Now, too, she admitted him further into her personal affairs than ever before. Harmony had returned to their relationship and, indeed, the relationship itself had subtly altered. It was due, he was aware, to his assumption of a duty he had taken for granted: his resolve to question Simon of Scotland as soon as he could find him. Question and caution him. The Charetty company was not without men.
He knew now when to expect the encounter. Duke Philip did indeed plan to hold a Chapter of the Golden Fleece Order in Flanders, and among the knights to attend would be Franck and Henry van Borselen, kinsmen of Katelina, my lord Simon’s wife. It would be a historic occasion. The lady Katelina would come from Scotland. And Simon, her husband.
Even the limited amount he had told her about that had made the demoiselle uneasy. “Goro? You will be careful? And you will write and tell me what happens?”
“Lawyers are always careful,” he said. “I wish I could come with you to Dijon.”
“No. We talked of that. I shall write to you. You may do better, in the end, to travel to Venice and use the money there to take lodgings and see what word you can get from the East. If I need you in Florence, you could reach me from there in a week. And if I come home, you would be halfway between Bruges and Trebizond.”
It sounded sensible enough, but too casual. And she had suggested it twice. He said, “You want me in Venice?”
She was pale, again, for a high-coloured woman. The afternoon had been spent at the Hôtel Jerusalem, making arrangements for Tilde. Of all those who had offered to shelter her daughter, Adorne and his wife had been most pressing and, finally, the demoiselle had agreed. It was the arrangement, Gregorio thought, that probably Tilde would like best. He had not tried to change it.
But now, although she was tired, something in her mild insistence disturbed him. When she did not answer at once, he put his question again, worded differently, “Are there other reasons why you want me in Venice? To keep a balance against Doria and Genoa?”
“It would be sensible,” she said. Then she said, “No. I want you there, watching. I’m afraid of the Venetians.”
“Afraid?” Gregorio said. “But it was Venice who launched this whole scheme. Who suggested the alum contract. Who told you that Florence wanted an agency. Nicholas saw no danger in it. He lodged his money there.”
“I may be wrong,” said Marian de Charetty, “but they pushed us, it seems to me, from the beginning. The one-legged Greek. Zeno. The…others. Of course, they wanted Astorre and his soldiers. That would add to their safety in Trebizond. They wanted someone to share the shipping risks, and bring their raw silk, and consolidate trade with the Emperor, who was falling out with both Venice and Genoa. They might even have wanted to…seduce the Charetty company to the side of the Serenissima and away from our equal friendship with Genoa. The friendship we had before this business of Pagano Doria.”
“He is only one man,” Gregorio said. “We have no reason yet to distrust all of Genoa. Nor can I see Venice as a danger. She needs us.”
“That is why she is a danger,” said Marian de Charetty. “She needs us in Trebizond. She is pushing us there. She is pushing Nicholas all the time, the way the Greek has done ever