The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [97]
“So they hope,” Nicholas said.
“So do we all,” said Violante of Naxos. “Let us assume, then, that Trebizond is in no danger of war. You will arrive with your cargo. You will commend yourself to the Emperor with the greatest gift he could conceive: the presence of a hundred trained soldiers to add to his consequence and his sense of security.”
“Ninety-eight,” Nicholas said. “We lost two. But yes?”
She waited until he had finished, and longer. Then she resumed. “Your company has much to commend it. It has, however, disadvantages also. You yourself are the greatest of these.”
In the game they appeared to be playing, that had always been one of her possible lines of attack. Nicholas said, “It’s a pity. But unavoidable, I’m afraid. My wife owns the company.”
“But you need not appear to lead it,” she said.
“No,” he said. “But I shall.”
She said, “Your wife wishes it? She is loyal, I am sure, and you are happily married, I can see. But others might think that the emissary to an Emperor should be a notary, or a clerk perhaps in orders…?”
“Master Beventini is very able as well,” Nicholas said. “It is their choice that I should lead. They’ll make more money.” She looked her question, and he found himself suddenly smiling. He said, “I have few gifts, highness, but those I do have, I put to good use. I mean to make the Charetty company one of the wealthiest in the Levant.”
The monk moved, but the lady did not. She said, “I have heard of you.”
“Then you knew that,” he said.
“Yes.” She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers without turning. “If it is unpacked, we can offer you a new sort of wine. You don’t take offence?”
“Frequently,” Nicholas said. “I seldom show it. My company works as a team, and my men trust me. Is that what you wanted to know?”
“And you are ambitious. And you are prepared to fight to protect your trade. But pleasant, of course, though your natural attributes are, you will negate all these things unless you learn how to retain the Emperor’s interest.”
Her Italian had a heavy Greek accent which was not the Greek he had heard in the voice of Acciajuoli, for example. He wondered if Trebizond had its own vernacular. He had forgotten to ask. If so, he ought to learn it. He said, since this was where, clearly, she was leading, “But where, highness, could I learn such a thing? Unless you yourself were prepared to waste time teaching me?” He remembered three things he had forgotten to tell le Grant, and wondered what speed they were making, and what the others were doing. He realised he knew what the others were doing. He wished they were right.
“I?” she was saying. Her eyebrows, thin as the thread of a spider, were pencilled together. They rose, blown by the faintest impatience. She said, “I can hardly imagine who else could teach you. Take your wine. You can learn much by observing, of course. But we are not talking of dress or of etiquette, although these, too, are important. The Emperor’s is a high-bred court which values erudite pleasures. What have I said?”
What does a rustic know of Aristotle, of Plato? He stopped smiling and said, “Forgive me. But my want of erudition seems to have struck a number of people of late.”
“But you can read?” she said. “If you are shown something, you can guess at its contents. As for the rest, I do not pretend that Diadochos or I can turn you into a Ficino in three weeks of, no doubt, squally weather. But we can teach you to recognise names, and the themes of current works that might engage the Emperor’s attention. It is unfortunately true that learning is not hard, in some circles, to simulate. When we reach Trebizond, we can offer you perhaps one or two manuscripts with which to familiarise