The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [267]
“Noah has gone to call him,” said Doria. There was a chest by the door, and he sat on it. He said, “I never enjoyed a game more. I wanted to tell you so. I never dreamed you would get those soldiers to Trebizond. The plague scare: it was genius. You seduced Violante—you! How? Peasant crudities she had never enjoyed? You stole my silver. You pre-empted all my purchases at Erzerum and had them sent through to Bursa, leaving me bankrupt. Catherine didn’t like that. I blame you for the change in Catherine. Oh, yes: I feel I owe you something for that. And you were so active! Transporting the Empress to Georgia! It might have got you the thanks of a nation, but of course it resulted in nothing. Like the trick with the mule-train which took your silk into the Citadel. I shall get it now,” said Pagano Doria. “And the galley, wherever she is. You made a lot of mistakes.”
“Did I?” said Nicholas. He sat, a hand on each foot. He looked puzzled.
“Well, your man Julius,” Doria said. “You lost him at Vavuk. You failed to do anything for the Venetians. They’ll lose all their stock, and the Signory will have no good opinion of the merchant adventurers of the Charetty company, not to mention the lady Violante and her husband. I shall have to make the company’s peace with them.”
“Once you’ve found Catherine,” Nicholas said. “You can’t get the Charetty without her.”
“That is true,” said Doria cheerfully. “But your colleagues will help. I feel sure of it. They’re only human, after all, and Turks excel in obtaining answers to questions. I shall have to go to Bruges, and Louvain. Your wife ought to retire. Twice a widow, what is there left but a convent where she can take up embroidery, and watch men’s affairs from her window? Catherine will take care of her sister, and I shall keep Catherine content with many children. Heirs to the Charetty business. You should be pleased. An infusion of superior blood.”
“And Simon?” said Nicholas.
Pagano Doria smiled. “There are rich pickings for others round the fringe of a feud. You didn’t realise that? Two men who dislike each other never notice the third on their backs. Simon will be no trouble to me. With the fortune I shall have made. I shall pay him some small profit and be done with him. Money was never his motive: just to rid himself of you. As yours was to rid yourself of him, and continue to stand well with your wife. You complained over your poor little stepdaughter, but you did nothing, did you, until you were forced to? I’ve enjoyed watching you,” said Pagano Doria. “But really, you were in want of experience.”
“You did your best,” Nicholas said. He spoke in pure Tuscan now, and very clearly. “All those bath boys, of assorted sizes and colours. Violante. I forget what else. Do you remember their faces? Does one ever mean more to you than another? Can you simulate well enough to attach them to you? I should have found it hard.”
“Their faces?” said Doria, and laughed. “What do you want me to say: that lovers don’t change, or grow tedious? Women cling. Bath boys grow into shaved men with thick voices. I take my pleasure. I leave it, and go to pick other flowers. Where there is money, I can exercise patience. I shall keep Catherine. Unless she becomes insupportable, I shall keep her. But even money,” said Pagano Doria, “is not everything. A calf is one thing; a cow is another. From that point of view, I have saved you some trouble. You won’t die from disgust in your bed, or killed because of your infidelities. Although I fear they are hard on spies here. It’s a pity.”
“I must point out,” Nicholas said, “that you are here as well.”
“As a merchant,” Doria said. “That is the difference. The marketplace changes hands: the wise man transfers his business to the new owner. Bringing, if he is lucky, some goodwill; an offer of friendship.”
“Tobie cured his camel,” Nicholas said.
Doria stared, and then laughed. “You’re not a coward. But of course, you’re here as a spy. You’re in disguise, and the White Sheep have sponsored you. Violante’s doing, I suppose.