The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [200]
Godscalc said, “It is known in Bruges as well as here. The round ship Doria doesn’t belong to your husband, Catherine. Perhaps he didn’t tell you. Its name was the Ribérac, and it was taken from his father by the Scottish lord Simon, who then employed your husband to sail east in his name and set up a rival station in Trebizond. You will know, perhaps, of the feud between my lord Simon and Nicholas.”
She didn’t collapse, or burst into tears any more than she had that morning. She turned to Doria, her eyes burning and said, “You didn’t tell me.”
Doria got up and, moving awkwardly away from the two men, sat down on the low bed by Catherine. He said, “No. Or we could never have married. He hired me to go into business for him, and make that business so successful that it would ruin Nicholas. You know Simon? He seems a silly, short-tempered lord, easily offended by slights which, I gather, Nicholas has unwisely offered him. I have a low opinion of Simon, but he pays well. I knew nothing at all of young Nicholas. I agreed; and then you and I met.” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, what could I do? Nicholas represented the Charetty company, your company. I couldn’t ruin that. But I needed his boat to give me my own start in business, so that I could support you without running, cap in hand, to your mother.”
He smiled at her. “I was lucky. I’ve done that. The Genoese made me their consul. I have traded for Simon, and myself. In small ways, I hindered Nicholas so that I would seem to be fulfilling my obligations; but he was your mother’s husband. You know I never did anything really harmful. I expected to establish a flourishing business, return my lord Simon his boat and his profit, and choose, with you, the life we both wanted. We can still do that.”
She said, “I thought you were rich.”
He smiled at her again. “I expect you thought your mother was rich. Would you be content, now, to live in a burgher’s brick house in Bruges? I was hardly poor, Catherine. But I wanted to give you all the gold in the world. I still do. And you will have it.”
They sat looking at one another. The girl’s eyes softened. Tobie folded his arms and looked from one to the other. He said, “It seems to me that three masters are enough for any one man, however fond he is of his wife. What with working for my lord Simon, yourself, and the Republic, you’re going to tire yourself out without having to worry over the trials of the Charetty company. Suppose you leave it in the hands of the people who run it, whom the demoiselle knows and trusts, and we’ll see when we get back to Flanders who’s going to employ whom. Apart from anything else, Astorre’s a curious fellow. He fights for the demoiselle, no one else. And the Emperor, I’m sure, wants Astorre to feel at his best.”
Catherine said, “But I am the demoiselle. You forgot that.”
Tobie said, “You are the daughter of the woman who chose Nicholas and married him. Ask yourself what your mother would want. What Nicholas would have wanted.”
“Why?” said Catherine de Charetty. She stood up. “My mother is an old, silly woman running a dyeshop. We live in quite a different world. Pagano is right. He is head of the Charetty company here in Trebizond, and you will do as he says. Now you can go.”
Godscalc had risen. He stood without speaking, then turned at last to Doria. He said, “It is as well to be formal. We do not accept this, and will seek by all means to challenge its legality. Meanwhile, the doors of our fondaco will be barred to you, and you will interfere with us and our work at your peril. I take it upon myself to say this.”
Without rising, Doria leaned his weight on the wall. He said, “Poor souls, it is your livelihood, of course, that is threatened. And no doubt you would enjoy your few weeks of petty dominion. Threats mean nothing, of course. In this land, the ear of the Emperor is all that matters. Even Astorre may find that he is not quite so necessary. Meanwhile I agree, you should go. You will forgive my not rising. I suffer from the wounds received trying to