The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [291]
“I don’t! I don’t owe you!” said Catherine.
“Don’t you? But Pagano Doria was my agent, and you are his heir.”
“But I don’t have any money!” Catherine said. “Nicholas has it all!”
She was sharp, but she never could see the way a conversation was going. Nicholas sighed.
“Well?” said Simon. He was smiling. He lifted a finger and flicked a button of the damp doublet, and then resumed his seat by the lamp. “Don’t you want to get home and change? I’ve had some papers drawn up. They’re here and ready for signing.”
“With my hands tied?” said Nicholas. Simon glanced at the door. “You could bring in another four men,” Nicholas said.
Simon’s lips tightened. He said, “Read it first.”
It had seemed a good idea to get his hands free, for he had a fair idea what was about to happen. Nicholas said, “My lord Simon, very few know about this. Leave it alone. It won’t do you any harm and, to be fair, the Charetty business is due a great deal of compensation for what you and your agent have done. I don’t mind describing it all before lawyers, but you won’t come out of it well. Or if you like, think about Catherine. Haven’t you made her suffer enough? Untie my hands and open the door and let us both go.”
“Try again,” Simon said.
Nicholas said, “All right. All the ships in the harbour at Trebizond were in enemy hands, including the round ship. Weeks before he died, Doria had lost it. I made up a Turkish-dressed crew and got it away, with a lot of women and children, if it matters. By right of salvage, it’s mine.”
“You killed Doria and took it,” Simon said.
“No,” said Nicholas. He glanced at the men by the door, but Simon paid no attention.
Simon said, “It is mine, and the alum in it is mine. A stolen ship, and the cargo therefore subject to forfeit. And stolen armour, and the price to be repaid.”
“Then repay it,” said Nicholas. “You stole both the ship and the armour from your father.”
“No!” said Catherine.
Nicholas turned to her. “Ask in Antwerp,” he said. “She was called the Ribérac before she was renamed the Doria. The arms were bought from Louis de Gruuthuse. He was probably quite pleased when they sailed off to the East instead of being used either against the Lancastrians or against the French in the fortress at Genoa. But Pagano didn’t know that.”
“You are calling me a thief?” said Simon slowly.
Nicholas said, “I did suggest we ended the discussion. There is no need to go on. Ask your men to let us pass. It isn’t your fault that some of the things you were told were wrong. Other things are your fault, but I don’t want to go on with it.”
“I think,” said Simon, “you called me a thief.”
“He didn’t,” Catherine said. “We’ll send Julius. He’ll look at your papers. I want to go now.”
It was still possible. Nicholas managed a smile. He said, “I think she’s saying what I’m saying. Enough. Ended. Honours even.” He was thinking, Honours! when the confrontation took its usual course. And suddenly Simon had his sword in his hand.
And suddenly, too, it was too much. Nicholas raised his two bound fists and slammed them, with a bang, on the nearest table he could reach. “What do you want?” he said. “To win every argument? To have someone swear every wrong is a right? To provoke me? Silence your conscience? Prove I’ll never be what you are?” He stopped. “If you’re going to murder me with your sword, then do it. If not, free my hands and turn your men out. Three against one, and you’ll kill me. But they’ll talk.”
Something of what he said made an impression. Perhaps because, for the first time, he had said it. Simon turned to the two men and nodded. One of them hesitated; then they both bowed and left. The door