The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [12]
“But I should have told you the source of my interest,” the priest said. “The company which employs me belongs to Bruges. From a modest beginning, they have encompassed not only dyeing and broking, but the hiring of fighting soldiers. Such men need clerking, and spiritual comfort, and I have supplied both. I have this moment come from the company in its winter quarters near Rome. I am on my way to Florence where the seniors of my company are exploring a new opportunity to extend themselves. To proceed, they would require a great galley—this very ship, it may be; since she is free, and they are not easily come by. Hence, you understand, my anxiety over its condition.”
The sea consul’s interest was engaged. He said, “You spoke of a small company. But one which can raise capital to man and run a galley and can count on enough clients to fill it must be a large one. Who is its owner?”
“A widow, newly remarried,” said the priest. “She is in Bruges. Her husband is there in Florence ahead of me. He is to do business, I understand, with the Republic. With the Republic’s senior citizen, Cosimo de’ Medici.”
“Indeed,” said the sea consul. His gaze had become sharper. He said, “You know my name, Martelli? You know that we are galley conductors; that the Medici and the Martelli work together? Who is this man, the second husband of your employer, who proposes to requisition a galley?”
“That may not be his intention,” said the priest. “It may not be within his capabilities. I am not sure. His name is Niccolò. He is nineteen.”
“Nineteen!” said the sea consul, and smiled. “It sounds to me as if it will be of little moment whether the galley you mention will be seaworthy or not. You have not, I take it, been with the company long? The young man married the owner and no doubt her notary, her lawyer, her chaplain, her physician all found reasons to leave, and had to be replaced?”
The priest’s eyes, of unblinking brown, remained fixed on him. The priest said, “No, they chose to stay. I was appointed because under young master Niccolò the business has expanded. He has a flair, I am told. Time will tell.”
“You surprise me,” said the consul. “I trust that whatever time tells, it will make pleasant hearing. But, you understand, I cannot help your company with the House of Medici. No one but Messer Cosimo and his sons arrange offers or decide on new dealings.”
“Of course,” said Godscalc, rising. “I merely wished to excuse my earlier reticence. I would not have you think later that I had deceived you. But one does not talk overmuch about a young master who has yet to prove himself. Ah…There is your lady, coming to scold me for detaining you.”
The supper was good; the wine generous. Leaving late and together, the priest and the sea prince stood where their ways parted, in the yard of the sea prince’s tavern. The priest expressed his thanks, as was due, to the author of his convivial evening. Only then did Pagano Doria look up into the calm, massive face and allow his smile to broaden to mischief. He said, “You owe me nothing. On the contrary. Madonna our hostess has passed me a gift for you, but as it is scented and silken I hesitate in case I offend. Unless you have a sister, a mother?”
“How else,” said Godscalc, “could I properly interpret a kiss when I see it? I accept the kerchief, of course. I might advise you, as well, not to visit there often. Galleys are not, I notice, reliable time-keepers; nor are their officers.”
“What, no homilies?” said Pagano Doria. “What a good fellow you are, and what a fright you gave me just now. What were you talking of, there in the courtyard? God or Mammon?”
“Of my two masters,” said Godscalc. “We were discussing the merchant called Niccolò in the Italian tongue. Nicholas vander Poele, of the Charetty company, Bruges, now staying in Florence.”
“Never heard of him,” said Pagano Doria.
Upstairs, in his room, he found Catherine de Charetty.
The lord Pagano Doria had had a long, if entertaining, day. It had reached a formidable, if exhausting, conclusion. He felt a little worn, but pleasantly