The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [48]
Tobie said, “Wasn’t it obvious? Don’t kill yourselves for Venice or Genoa, but keep the Emperor happy.”
Julius said, “You should have talked to captain Vettori of the Florentine galleys. Stout fellow. Went to Constantinople in May, and threw a feast on his ship for the Sultan. I’m glad,” volunteered Julius, “that we’re not to hold back the hordes single-handed. I’d rather offer them banquets.”
“You wouldn’t enjoy it,” said Tobie. “They’re forbidden strong drink, and they prefer handsome young lawyers to women. Holding off the hordes is what you’d be doing.” He paused. “Look. Get it straight, for God’s sake. The Sultan rules Constantinople, but Pera is still full of Florentine traders. And Venetians. And Genoese. Trade has to go on, even if the Pope doesn’t like it. The lord Cosimo makes a fortune in banking but builds altars and churches to redress the balance in Heaven. He gives feasts for the Sultan of Turkey, and sends us and our army to Trebizond. We’re the appendix; the special Redemption clause. Now where are you off to?”
“Into the church after Astorre,” Julius said. “To see if he’s lit enough candles. And what about the new consul for Genoa, may God crown him with fire? He’s on his way to Trebizond now.”
“What?” said Tobie. “How do you know?”
“The man watching his house. The servants behaved just as usual, but he found out just now that Doria’s whole party left for Porto Pisano last week. And the round ship was told to be ready to sail when they got there.”
Tobie engaged in a long, thoughtful curse. Then he said, “What’s the wind?”
“Perfect,” said Julius. “He’ll sail out on the tide. Constantinople and Pera by March. Trebizond maybe by April.”
Tobie walked. “He may never get there,” he said. He walked again, slower. “On the other hand, he may. If that’s the church, I’ll come with you.”
Chapter 8
THE ROUND SHIP Doria had indeed sailed, and in triumph. For the little gift of God for which Pagano Doria and his young fiancée were waiting so anxiously had made its appearance at last.
From Christmas onwards, the sea prince had been watching the weather. The Charetty galley would leave in February. Compared to his, its route would be coastal. Its crew, however, was bigger and in variable winds it was faster. To reach Trebizond first, or even neck and neck with the Florentine, he would have to sail soon. It would suit him to be first into Sicily, Modon and Pera, leaving what small inconveniences he could for his underprivileged friend. But especially, he did not wish to come last and find the boy and his galley already occupying prime berths and depôts and the Emperor’s favour. The Genoese colony had no idea they were about to acquire a new consul. He did not even know if they still kept their traditional suburb, their church and their castle. That was why he was supposed to be going: to confirm and, if necessary, restore the standing of Genoa in the Emperor’s eyes. He proposed to do so, with a flourish.
He believed he could set sail in January. The only problem was his little Catherine, who thought of nothing but marriage, and who might feel alarm at the prospect of fresh travels without it. That he was highly regarded by the Genoese signoria she did of course know: she expected it. Of Trebizond she knew nothing. That he meant to sail to the East, and remain there, was something he had hoped to break to her after their marriage.
He would have to do it now. Indeed, some diversion was needed. Secure in his arms, as he had thought she would be, the child would hardly have cared where they were. As it was, romantic love kept her happy enough, but he knew that she was growing tired of the little of Florence she knew, and the limited company that she moved in. She chafed at the veils, and wanted to display her new charms and possessions. When upsets occurred, because of an absence of his, or an overindulgence in sweetmeats, it required all his patience and arts to restore her to the loving child