Scales of Gold by Dorothy Dunnett Page B

buy from the West. Could you copy this?’
    She took it from him. Briefly, Gregorio saw it: an oblong, enamelled and gilded. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But Venice is at war with Constantinople.’
    ‘I have an agent in Alexandria,’ he said. ‘There is a good potential market, even in war. I have brought carpets to copy, and other things. But I knew you could make the glass if you had an example. Accept it, please. It comes with no obligations. If you decide to make them, you can use other merchants.’
    She sat with the lamp in her hands, and looked at him. She said, ‘Perhaps, after all, you are the head of a Bank. I shall look at this. I shall tell you something. I have been impressed by the quality of the goods you have sent me. I learn that you have brought another bargeload today. The yard is full of broken glass. I have no more warehouse space to keep it.’
    ‘You have enough, then?’ Nicholas said. He was almost smiling.
    She opened her lips in a genuine smile, showing blackened teeth, and a sweetness beneath all the weariness. ‘You must know, one never has enough. I have considered what Signor Gregorio has proposed. I am satisfied with the bargain and so, I take it, are the Council.’
    ‘We spoke of it this morning,’ Nicholas said. ‘Madonna?’
    She raised her brows.
    Nicholas sat, muscular knees planted apart, wide brow wrinkled. He reached up and scratched under his cap which tilted back, allowing a frenzy of hair to escape. One dimple appeared. He said, ‘I shouldn’t have done that. The trouble is, when you’re new, people don’t take you seriously. Your father must have been a good padrone di fornace. ’
    ‘He was,’ she said.
    ‘Because they follow you, all those men out there. They know you, and in any case, you are a maestra. It is harder for me.’
    ‘Signor Gregorio spoke well of you,’ she said.
    Nicholas said, ‘My friend Lopez would have been harsher. Madonna, if we agree, there are papers to sign. After that, if I may, we should like to visit our friend the Florentine. He is no trouble? You are not unhappy to have him so close?’
    ‘The booth was too small for any purpose of ours,’ she said. ‘He sleeps there and buys his food from us. He passes for a worker in gold, and the dogs protect him as well as our stock.’
    ‘During the day?’ Nicholas asked.
    ‘During the day, of course, they are tied up.’ She followed his gaze to the window. ‘Why? You saw one of the dogs? They are fierce.’
    ‘No,’ Nicholas said. He rose and crossed the room. Beneath the sleeveless pourpoint, his shirt was soaked and his hose might have been dye on the skin: Gregorio saw the woman’s eyes follow him. Nicholas said, ‘I thought I saw someone. Could he have heard us?’
    ‘There was nothing to hear,’ said Marietta Barovier.
    ‘Only that there was something to hide,’ Nicholas said. He opened the door to the yard, looking first about, and then down, where the rough ground was sprinkled with ash. Already, Gregorio could see, the house-shadow had lengthened: the long storeroom outside lay half in darkness. Then Nicholas said, ‘Yes. This way!’ and flung himself outside. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Fetch the soldiers!’
    Lopez was already beside him, and Marietta Barovier, following quickly, stood in the doorway looking after them. In the yard, men turned and looked up. Gregorio wheeled and raced through the house, heedless of rattling shelves. The soldiers were in the front where they had left them, and came running as he threw them explanations. Then he was back in the yard, which was crowded.
    The main gathering seemed to be round the storehouse. Lopez, appearing, said, ‘It was a man. Meester Nicholas cut off his escape, and he was forced to run back. They think he is hiding in there.’
    ‘A spy?’ Gregorio said. ‘Or another marksman?’
    ‘He doesn’t seem to be armed,’ said the Negro. Gregorio looked at him, and ran on.
    Approaching the barn, he could hear