The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [53]
He did not dismiss what he heard, because, if nothing else, he was intelligent. He placed it in his memory, to be thought about.
Outside Naples, they armed. Later, they might expect roving pirates, although they were less common in winter. All the time, there were Genoese vessels lying in wait in these waters, to board and rob and kill as the French masters of Genoa directed.
The Ciaretti passed through them unscathed. Pagano Doria had been speaking the truth. Whatever he held against the Charetty company, it was personal. No orders had come from Genoa to hinder their voyage.
Many of the harbours they used had seen the Doria. In Sicily, they learned they were only ten days behind. The round ship had paused at Messina, picking up grain; unloading Catalonian sugar and all those strings of fat cheeses. They had done more, as Julius returned on board, flushed, to complain. There was no water to spare at the wharf. Nor were there any hens to be had, or beef—live or salted—or biscuit, or fish in the keg. Another purser, well provided with florins, had cleared out all they had.
It was raining. Nicholas, wearing his boat cloak over a fuzzy felt cap, said, “Where’s the list?”
Julius said, “They want three times the usual prices. And we have to wait.”
“What do you wager?” said Nicholas.
He came back in three hours, followed by a train of porters carrying everything. The prices were half what was normal. Julius was surprised and resentful.
“Well, you did it yourself,” Nicholas said. Sicily was full of the new season’s vintage, and he had deployed it like Bacchus.
“What?” said Julius.
“Fought for Ferrante in Naples. The viceroy in Palermo knows all about the Charetty company, and so does his agent in Messina. Water, cattle and chickens.”
Julius went red. He said, “How did they know?”
Nicholas grinned. “Letters from Monna Alessandra. Don’t you remember? Lorenzo’s brother trained in Palermo.”
“She wrote letters of recommendation for you?” Tobie sounded disbelieving.
“Well, she wouldn’t write them for you,” Nicholas said. “And we’ve got all Doria’s cheeses.”
“Cheeses?” said Julius.
“Yes. He sold them to his agent in Messina, and the agent’s had to sell them to us. By the viceroy’s special order. At half-price. They’re good cheeses, too,” said Nicholas. “I think Messina’s been bad luck for Doria. Did you hear that he married while he was here?”
“That was sudden,” said Tobie.
“No; a girl with a dog. She was on the galley already.”
“The veiled midget?” said Julius.
“She isn’t veiled now. And she isn’t a midget. She’s a child: twelve or thirteen years old, says the agent.”
Godscalc said, “I don’t like the sound of that very much.”
“At least they’re married,” said Julius.
“Even so,” said the priest. He looked at Julius and then at Nicholas who shook his head, and then smiled, and then heaved up the wine flask.
“And what about the rest of the journey?” Julius said. “Have you got letters for every provision merchant? They may not know Lorenzo Strozzi’s brother, whereas the Doria have served them for centuries. No water; no food. We’ll be living on biscuits.”
“Well, biscuits and cheese,” Nicholas said.
At times during the sail from Messina across the flat Ionian Sea, Julius returned to the question, but with lessening conviction. The crew had settled into a team. The cook had learned how to create dishes for Astorre’s satisfaction. The soldiers, natural athletes, had succeeded with small trouble in mastering their work at the oars, and more besides. They knew, too, enough jargon to converse with the seamen, and were learning more every day. At meals, the leaders of the Charetty company spoke Greek together while, at odd times and in odd corners, Nicholas made the African Loppe repeat al! he had ever learned of Arabic. With the aid of Loppe, also, he taught himself the art of swimming with credit. When, over supper, his officers raised, again, the question of the Doria, he answered calmly, “I doubt if the Doria can spare the time to stop where we’re stopping. We’ll only cross tracks at the big ports.