The Spring of the Ram - Dorothy Dunnett [99]
“It doesn’t sound very likely,” said Tobie. “On the other hand, now I look at you, perhaps it does. What about it? Zorzi said a ship was just leaving for Flanders. I remember, because I worked out the profit would buy a few buttons.”
The profit, if the ship left and if it arrived safely, would pay for the Ciaretti. He was trying not to count on it. Nicholas said, “That was Phocoean alum, and the last of it meantime until they quarry some more. But the lady says there are still stocks at Sebinkarahisar.”
“Where?” said Captain Astorre angrily. Business was no concern of his, but topography was.
“Koloneia is its old name. To the south-west of Trebizond, and just outside the Empire, but worked by Greek miners. Then it’s brought up by packhorse to Giresun, pays its tolls and gets shipped off to Europe.”
John le Grant said, “Giresun is its Muslim name, Nicholas. The Greeks of classical times called the port Cerasus. Kerasous. Cérasonte. Cherries and Amazons.”
“What?” said Astorre.
“Lucullus the Epicure, that’s what,” Tobie said. “All the cherries you’ve ever eaten take their name and stock, my friend, from Kerasous. Lucullus found them here in Roman times and sent them to Italy. Eighteen hundred years ago, Xenophon’s Ten Thousand passed through Kerasous, bickering. Pits and gallows. And now Nicholas’s alum miners and us. It’s next door to Trebizond.”
Julius said, “Well, go on. Amazons?”
Tobie’s formless pink face with its neat curling nostrils and hairless scalp shone in the lamplight. He said, “Call yourself Argonauts? This is the original home of the Amazons. Female warriors, like the lady Violante and Alessandra Termagant Strozzi. Tits and gallows. Two of them built a temple to Mars at Kerasous and there are still funny ceremonies on Kerasous island.”
“There’s a monastery there,” Nicholas said. The lady Violante had told him that. She had talked also of cherries and Europe, her eyes fixed on his face. He remembered something else. He said, “John. How did Constantinople finally fall?”
“John stopped talking,” said Julius.
Le Grant said, “Lots of reasons. The Turks dragged their fleet over the hill and got into the Horn. That was the ultimate one. Why? They couldn’t even get guns over the mountains round here.”
“Couldn’t they?” said Nicholas. “So anyone using cannon on Trebizond would have to do it from the sea?”
Astorre’s sewn eye glittered. “How often do you need to be told? Anyone can land and burn the suburbs, but the fortress’s impregnable. Same in Kerasous. Same in Sinope. And none of them can be surrounded, unless someone can persuade an army to cross Anatolia and climb the mountain range at its back. So are we landing at Kerasous?”
“Not on this trip,” Nicholas said.
“He’s planning a private expedition,” Tobie said.
Sometimes, like this, they forgot he was married. He didn’t remind them.
“All right,” Julius said. “You take the Amazons and leave us Violante. What’s she like, Nicholas?”
“He doesna know,” John le Grant said. “Too busy talking of alum.”
Nicholas said, “Think of your favourite woman, then double it. I have to tell you something about her.” He had flattened his voice, and saw them sober, responding. John le Grant said, “What?” Under the red brows his eyes were sharp as needles.
Nicholas said, “She is a friend of Pagano Doria’s. She had an interview with him in Florence. I knew, because I had the house watched, but she doesn’t know that. So be careful.”
Julius said, “You didn’t tell us. You mean she knows about Catherine?”
“She may. But Catherine, I’m sure, doesn’t know about Pagano and the lady. The idyll is unmarred.”
“But you still didn’t tell us,” said Julius.
“I didn’t expect to meet her again. I’m telling you now,” Nicholas said.
Tobie said, “Well, never mind that. What’s behind it? An affair on the side? It would have to be limited, with Catherine there every moment. So what? He’s Genoese consul, and she’s the wife of a Venetian merchant. It could be a league against us.