The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [218]
The Duke’s hand tapped on his knee. He said, ‘Wine, man!’ without turning his head. Cavalli got up. The Duke said, ‘How, free? You have a business in Bruges. Whoever finances me will offend Charles of Burgundy. I should instantly redeem my pawned land. I should be strong enough to make war on the Switzers, who in turn will blame him. You didn’t think of that?’ Cavalli brought him a great cup of wine which he seized and drank off. Then he tossed the cup on the floor, where it cracked a tile. ‘You didn’t think of that?’ he repeated. ‘Or you plan to make so much profit from me that you don’t care?’ Cavalli picked up the cup and retreated with it. He cast a glance at Nicholas as he passed.
Nicholas said, ‘My lord, none could have put the problem better. May I speak?’
‘That is what you are here for,’ said the Duke. He was still angry.
Nicholas shifted, but only a little, on his damaged leg. He said, ‘In my opinion, my lord, Burgundy will never permit you to redeem the land you have lost, no matter what money you raise. On the other hand, she would appreciate a rich neighbour, able to recruit its own armies against the Switzers, provided only that the cantons did not turn their anger, in turn, against Burgundy.’
‘You are repeating my point. They will, if I license a Fleming.’ He had another cup in his hand. He said, ‘You tire me. Sit down.’
‘I am sorry, your grace.’
Nicholas sat, without looking at Cavalli. Cavalli said, ‘Perhaps Ser Niccolò would take some wine?’
He clearly knew the Duke well. A wave of one hand indicated permission. Nicholas said, ‘Water, for preference. But thank you.’
‘We don’t keep water,’ said the Duke. ‘You don’t answer.’
‘I feared to tire your grace,’ Nicholas said. ‘There are ways to prevent the cantons from blaming Burgundy, and even ways of preventing Burgundy from blaming me. Just as there are ways of selling alum without depriving Bartolomeo Zorzi of his papal profit. And if such ways met with your grace’s approval, I can offer you, at the end of it all, a contract markedly better than any the Vatachino put forward.’
‘You don’t know what that was,’ the Duke said.
‘I know Martin,’ said Nicholas. He took the wine Cavalli had brought him and looked at it regretfully. He said, ‘But, of course, you said the contract was sealed.’
Cavalli looked at the Duke, who was frowning. There was a beading of wine on his fur. ‘Recent events have unsealed it,’ said the Duke.
*
‘You’re drunk,’ said John le Grant enviously.
‘I’m not,’ Nicholas said. ‘You’ll be telling me the Duke is drunk, next.’
‘So?’ said Father Moriz. They had been pacing the floor, waiting for him. They looked nervous. It surprised him that they thought anything could go wrong.
‘So we’ve got it,’ Nicholas said. He sat down, and did his best to enunciate clearly. ‘He gets his loan: six thousand pounds in French money and two thousand in Scots. We have a licence to mine the Inn alum for three years, and the new silver seams as soon as we can get a man through to Lyons. I knew Sessetti and Nori when they were with the Medici at Geneva. The Duke wants us to send him Astorre. I have to see the Duchess in private, but Innsbruck will manufacture the cannon: Father Moriz will set up the smelting and then go on to Venice.’
‘And you?’ the priest said. He sat down, looking breathless. ‘Wait. What about the deal with the Vatachino?’
‘Cancelled,’ Nicholas said. ‘Smacks for ungentlemanly conduct. Martin bribed a couple of men to be nasty, and they were a little too nasty for the Duke’s political comfort. And personal comfort: he might have been killed. So no contract. And only three chamberlains.’
‘So you’re staying,’ said the priest.
‘John and I will set it up and stay over the summer. No Alexandria. I’ll send somebody later.’
‘Will you?’
‘Egypt can wait,’ Nicholas said. ‘So can the gold. This is bigger.’ He realised too late that neither Moriz nor John had put the question. A third man had come into the room.
Father Ludovico de Severi da Bologna, Patriarch of Antioch, wore the unorthodox habit, heavily