express them. The sum was entrusted to me to bring to Bruges, and I have placed it in the good hands of Messer Tommaso here. From Bruges, I understand, it will be transmitted to the Medici branch at Milan, who in turn will transfer it to Venice. From Venice, after due negotiation with the Turk, it will be taken in appropriate form to Constantinople, and there exchanged for Messer Nicholai’s brother. Am I right, mynheere Tommaso?”
“It is so, my lord,” said Portinari. He wore melon sleeves and a low-crowned beaver hat and had rings on most of his fingers, which were white and fine. The rings were not very expensive: he was only under-manager. Tommaso Portinari had come to the bank as a twelve-year-old. Katelina had known him all her life, as had everyone else. Hence his need to impress.
He said, “The bank is much engaged in arranging Christian ransoms, as Monseigneur knows. Our Rome branch does little else.” He spoke Italian’s Flemish tinged with other accents, of which English was one. Only that morning, Katelina realised, she had heard someone imitate him. She frowned, remembering.
Tommaso, seizing his chance, was continuing. “Mynheere Losschaert is not, perhaps, aware of the trust the Curia place in my company. Naturally, for the remittance of money. My lord Bishop brings us fees accruing from new Church appointments, and we transmit these to Rome. But we are agents for other things also. I am at this moment sending three suits of tapestry overland to one of the Cardinals.”
“You trust the Alpine passes in winter?” said Doria. “With money?”
“Nowadays we send bills of credit,” said Portinari. His manner combined firmness and deference. “But yes, under proper guard, we would send silver if need be. You dispatch goods that way yourself, when the Flanders galleys come in with something that won’t wait till spring. They are late this year, my lord Bishop.”
“They are near,” said the Duchess of Burgundy’s secretary. He removed from his nose the flower he had been smelling and, bending, tucked it behind the collar of Simon’s seated dog, which thumped its tail and galvanised the folded half of its body a couple of times by way of encouragement.
Messer Vasquez straightened. “We shan’t have to wait long, I think. They say the auction was held up this year, and the galleys were lateleaving Venice. I am told the silk will be good, and they carry exceptional spices. The Duke has been informed.”
Tommaso turned quickly, so that Katelina could see his high cheekbones and long nose and the brightness of his eye under the fringe. He said, “Has monseigneur heard who is the commander?”
Messer Vasquez did not mind sharing his news. “One of the Duodo, I hear. I understand it may be Messer Alvise, who used to sail from Venice to Trebizond. If so, Bruges may look for good entertainment. When the Turks attacked Constantinople, Alvise Duodo broke the boom and led most of the trapped fleet to freedom. A wealthy tribe the Duodo, and not wanting in style.”
He smiled at Katelina. “Now is the city’s busiest time, demoiselle Katelina: when all the cellars are empty and waiting for the two precious cargoes. But as a child, you have seen the Flanders galleys arrive?”
She was silent. Come Lent, the ecstasy of the Carnival. Come late summer, the wonder of the great galleys sailing in with their treasures from Venice. The two marvels of a child’s year which she had most missed in Scotland. For which she had yearned even more than the wide skies and the water and the warm, speckled brick.
“Occasionally,” said Katelina. “Monseigneur, will you take a little more wine?”
Simon remained to take supper with them, and was amusing. It would have suited her father more, Katelina thought, if he had fallen into discussion of what had been said that afternoon, or asked questions, or given his opinion of those who had spoken, and hinted at a little gossip from Scotland.
But of course, Simon
“It is so, my lord,” said Portinari. He wore melon sleeves and a low-crowned beaver hat and had rings on most of his fingers, which were white and fine. The rings were not very expensive: he was only under-manager. Tommaso Portinari had come to the bank as a twelve-year-old. Katelina had known him all her life, as had everyone else. Hence his need to impress.
He said, “The bank is much engaged in arranging Christian ransoms, as Monseigneur knows. Our Rome branch does little else.” He spoke Italian’s Flemish tinged with other accents, of which English was one. Only that morning, Katelina realised, she had heard someone imitate him. She frowned, remembering.
Tommaso, seizing his chance, was continuing. “Mynheere Losschaert is not, perhaps, aware of the trust the Curia place in my company. Naturally, for the remittance of money. My lord Bishop brings us fees accruing from new Church appointments, and we transmit these to Rome. But we are agents for other things also. I am at this moment sending three suits of tapestry overland to one of the Cardinals.”
“You trust the Alpine passes in winter?” said Doria. “With money?”
“Nowadays we send bills of credit,” said Portinari. His manner combined firmness and deference. “But yes, under proper guard, we would send silver if need be. You dispatch goods that way yourself, when the Flanders galleys come in with something that won’t wait till spring. They are late this year, my lord Bishop.”
“They are near,” said the Duchess of Burgundy’s secretary. He removed from his nose the flower he had been smelling and, bending, tucked it behind the collar of Simon’s seated dog, which thumped its tail and galvanised the folded half of its body a couple of times by way of encouragement.
Messer Vasquez straightened. “We shan’t have to wait long, I think. They say the auction was held up this year, and the galleys were lateleaving Venice. I am told the silk will be good, and they carry exceptional spices. The Duke has been informed.”
Tommaso turned quickly, so that Katelina could see his high cheekbones and long nose and the brightness of his eye under the fringe. He said, “Has monseigneur heard who is the commander?”
Messer Vasquez did not mind sharing his news. “One of the Duodo, I hear. I understand it may be Messer Alvise, who used to sail from Venice to Trebizond. If so, Bruges may look for good entertainment. When the Turks attacked Constantinople, Alvise Duodo broke the boom and led most of the trapped fleet to freedom. A wealthy tribe the Duodo, and not wanting in style.”
He smiled at Katelina. “Now is the city’s busiest time, demoiselle Katelina: when all the cellars are empty and waiting for the two precious cargoes. But as a child, you have seen the Flanders galleys arrive?”
She was silent. Come Lent, the ecstasy of the Carnival. Come late summer, the wonder of the great galleys sailing in with their treasures from Venice. The two marvels of a child’s year which she had most missed in Scotland. For which she had yearned even more than the wide skies and the water and the warm, speckled brick.
“Occasionally,” said Katelina. “Monseigneur, will you take a little more wine?”
Simon remained to take supper with them, and was amusing. It would have suited her father more, Katelina thought, if he had fallen into discussion of what had been said that afternoon, or asked questions, or given his opinion of those who had spoken, and hinted at a little gossip from Scotland.
But of course, Simon
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