To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [173]
She said, ‘I think you are right. Yes, I’ll go.’
She would have preferred him to look mildly pleased; but supposed that his lack of surprise was a compliment.
The snow came in an hour, and as soon as it closed white around them, the yole arrived, and Nicholas sent Kathi off with a man he could trust and could spare. Then he joined Crackbene and John and Lutkyn and Yuri and Moriz, and all the fun started.
It was unlike the Play. Everything was based on guesswork. It had been guesswork that Martin would linger, hoping that the Maiden would finish Nicholas off, and in fact allowing him leisure to load up his stockfish. It had been a guess that the Unicorn would come when it did, using the first of the tide, and allowing itself plenty of daylight. It was pure luck that the snow had come, too; and that Glímu-Sveinn had proved to have a sense of Ultima Thulery fun, and to be so very pleased with his dogger.
He wondered how humourless the Danziger Benecke was. Crackbene and Lutkyn called him a brilliant mariner; a man who became bored with the routine of the Hanse and now worked as a mercenary. A man so lucky and rich that crews begged to join him. A man who, within the last year, had captured and held to ransom both John of Salisbury and the Lord Mayor of London.
Now Paúel was working for Lübeck and, while fishing himself, was entitled to stop other nations from fishing or trading off Iceland. He might have noticed the yoles and dogger and drawn some conclusions. The Icelanders would not, Nicholas thought, mention stockfish, but Paúel might guess. All in all, it seemed he was unlikely to honour his promise, and let the Svipa slip scatheless away, keeping its reward of three days’ hurried fishing. The fact was that the Svipa was nothing. The capital prize was himself, patron of the Banco di Niccolò – a capture to make the Bank rock, if the concern for a baby had shaken it. And, of course, Benecke could expect gold for the Sersanders youngsters. For though they were no longer here, Martin thought they were.
He had said as much earlier to Moriz, who had stared at him with disbelief. ‘Martin’s ship belongs to Adorne! How could he wish to harm the young people!’
And he remembered his answer. ‘Martin won’t fire a gun against Adorne’s niece or his nephew. That’s Benecke’s privilege.’
Benecke had several options, when one gave it some thought. He could challenge the Svipa to surrender and use his own guns to beat down and board it. Or if unwilling to damage his ship, he might man and send in the Unicorn. Or he might land the crew from the Unicorn and attack the Svipa from both ships at once. Nicholas wished he knew more about Benecke.
Then had come Yuri’s prediction of snow. Ravens and Yuri knew when snow was coming. So did other men, advising the Maiden. ‘So think of Benecke,’ Nicholas had said. ‘We all know snow is coming, then darkness. Benecke doesn’t know me, but he knows Michael Crackbene. Mick, what does he know? That you wouldn’t give up. That you came up to Iceland last year and probably delivered that boat against stockfish. Would you go home without collecting the fish?’
‘You might,’ Mick Crackbene had said. ‘He doesn’t know you. Neither really does Martin. They might think you would reconsider the risk to your Bank and cut your losses.’
There had been a silence, indicating that a number of others thought the same. John had been grinning.
‘On the other hand,’ Crackbene added, ‘he used to know Ochoa de Marchena.’
Ochoa de Marchena, now invisible, had once been entrusted with a cargo of African gold belonging to Nicholas. Ten minutes alone with Ochoa would tell Paúel exactly what Nicholas was capable of. When that snow fell, Paúel would know the Svipa wasn’t going to flee, or abandon its fishing, or give up its feud with the Unicorn.