The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [267]
He waited. The island of Chios, source of much of Genoa’s wealth, had been the world distribution centre for the precious rock-powder alum until the mainland mines fell to the Turk. Alum had always been one of the Bank’s special interests.
‘So?’ said Nicholas. He had closed his eyes. He had taken something, then.
‘So go to sleep,’ John said shortly. ‘I’ll deal with it. You wouldn’t like to go home, would you? It would make running this business a lot easier.’
Too late, the word ‘home’ struck him as poignant. He felt remorse and resentment together. Resentment won. He said, ‘I thought you would have known all that already. What do you talk about, squatting under trees in the Meidan with dogs sniffing about?’
A dimple made a shallow appearance, and went. ‘The availability of girls. Whether the Arab term madina jamaiyya is a correct interpretation of Plato’s politeia and if not, what is. The cheapest place to buy lupins.’ He opened both eyes and shifted his shoulders, without removing his weight from the lattice. He then closed his eyes again, but went on speaking. ‘All right. We do not, we really do not think that Anselm Adorne is solely a pilgrim. His sponsors may be Scotland and Burgundy, but he has serious investments in the Genoese colonies. So he is here to promote Genoa, now that Venice has lost Negroponte. To all his plans, I am his principal obstacle. And the river is rising. The spice ships will be coming next month.’
‘The emirs know I am here,’ John said.
‘Then you must assume that Adorne will be told, and hence David de Salmeton. If I haven’t been wholly energetic in hunting the Vatachino,’ Nicholas said, ‘it is because it seemed very likely that David de Salmeton would discover me first. Now he’ll find both of us. Perhaps we should both leave?’
‘Give up Cairo?’ said John. ‘Alexandria? The whole Levant project?’
‘Why not?’ Nicholas said. ‘There’s always Sinai. Let’s go and find gold in Sinai.’
‘You don’t mean it,’ said John. He was so vexed that it took a moment to perceive that Nicholas had closed his eyes once again and seemed to have fallen asleep.
It meant, at least, that he wouldn’t disappear into the souks during the night. John spent an hour at his desk with his ledgers, had himself brought something to eat, confirmed that Nicholas was still asleep on the cushions and, turning out all the lamps, went to bed.
Rising at six hours next morning, he found himself alone. The servants were obedient and helpful, as always. A man he knew had come with a message. His generous guest, the interpreter Nicomack ibn Abdallah, had received it and departed, leaving a note. They presented the note.
Nicholas had written it in clear, but in Flemish. It summarised the news brought by John’s spy, detailing Anselm Adorne’s movements the previous day. Adorne, it seemed, had seen several emirs and a number of resident merchants and dealers, some of them Moorish, some of them Christian. He and his party had spent the afternoon barefoot visiting holy places – St Sergius, St Barbara – in the dress of Copts. He had laid plans to cross the river and climb Pharaoh’s granaries the following day. He had hired camels and sent to buy provisions for that, and for what seemed to be a much longer journey.
He had been seen in the house of the Patriarch of the Greek Orthodox Church of Alexandria to whom, it was said, he had confided a great sum of money in return for the services of Lorenzo, a Cretan, a monk who was familiar with deserts, and would guide the Baron to his own monastery.
There was no need, really, to read all the rest. John knew the name. Brother Lorenzo from Crete, whose help Adorne had won at such cost, was no ordinary monk. Brother