The Unicorn Hunt - Dorothy Dunnett [289]
‘God is great,’ the merchant Niccolò said. ‘And displeasing to God is man’s vengeance. I would pardon him.’
‘Thou art merciful,’ said the Emir Dawadar. He approved of what he saw. Thus were Mameluke leaders selected. Discounting weakness, one looked instead for the spirit which kept the back straight, the eyes level, the language and etiquette properly observed and deployed. He said, ‘It is nevertheless a rash man who comes unrecommended. I am told thou holdest no mandate from the beys of Spain or of France or of Burgundy, and bring no charge from the Splendour of the Sect of the Cross, the exalted ruler of Venice?’
Seated, his hands light on crossed knees, the merchant Niccolò bent his head. ‘I am humble. Yet is not my empty wallet worth more than that of some ambassador dispatched before Negroponte, whose remit has fallen to ashes, and who speaks with the tongue of dead men? I have a Bank. I offer its resources and wisdom against the Ottoman Turk. Its resources, as thou knowest, are founded on gold. Its wisdom consists in belonging to no prince, but knowing the hearts and intentions of many.’
‘Thou? A merchant?’ Yachbak mentioned. He leaned back.
The other remained, his hands lax, his broad shoulders still. ‘Where will the spices go, that travel from Tor this coming month, and what will they bring in return? Who will handle the silks of Uzum Hasan? Who will provide the copper cauldrons for sugar; the round ships full of wood for fine artefacts? Who can supply gold, from which dinars (or ducats) are minted? Who can sometimes say, to this country or that, “Thy desires are indeed great but these are thy debts, and where is the remedy?” ’
There was a silence. ‘One spoke of timber,’ said the Grand Emir at length.
Two hours later, at the seventh hour after midday, the Emir Dawadar used his judgement to call the interview to a halt. The scribes wrote on, scratching the paper in their desperation. So much. So much had been discussed, hinted, touched upon.
Cyprus. How had this man guessed so much of Cyprus? This time Qayt Bey had hesitated to increase the tribute again: this man had shown how it should be done.
He knew the bey Ferrante of Naples, and was already engaged in the fine cross-negotiation concerning the marriage of his daughter. He could not know – could he? – that a son of Ferrante’s was here, in the Citadel, freely serving as a Christian Mameluke?
This man, this merchant Niccolò, exchanged messages with Uzum Hasan, the greatest opponent in Asia of the Ottoman Turk. He knew the inner workings of the Knights of Rhodes, and the subtle strife over alum. He knew where timber was to be had, while of course observing the laws which forbade – pronouncements of infidels and idolators! – the release of ship-timber to Egypt. The man had leased two ships to Venice for Negroponte, and when the merchant Niccolò spoke, the bey of Venice often listened. This Frank owned an army. And he – pleasing to Allah – was a man who had wished to save Sankore, and all in the city, and whom the Qadi Musa esteemed not as a son, for such would have been foolish, but as a man of singular strength, for whom a master had yet to be found.
Towards the end, when the tray of cold carob drinks had arrived, the Dawadar had drawn attention to the importance of the matters raised, and lamented the lack of opportunity to continue their discussion next day. He had been informed, of course, of the lord Niccolò’s plans. He held them in reverence. Nevertheless, despite the apparent delay, he would swear that the lord Niccolò’s journey to Sinai would prove even more swift since, given time, it was in his own power to provide mounts, provisions, guides, protection and permits, as a result of which the flight of a bird would seem slow.
He did not say, for it was not his place to mention it, that a rival party of Franks had already set out for Mount Sinai, and were presently