There were ten of his own men inside, including his captain, and Julius with two of his servants. They all bore wounds of some sort or another, but they were all on their feet, and none looked mortally sick, or much worse than himself. The man with the shorn arm must have died. They had light, and bedding, and fresh clothes, and the remains of a generous meal. They had put out their own torch, hoping to fight their way out and escape. Julius was pummelling him on the back. It was agony. Then he held him at arm’s length and said, “We’re free?”
“Of course we are. We’re in Erzerum,” Nicholas said. He was looking at them all, one by one, and they responded, crowding round, with bright faces and eager questions. If they blamed him for what had happened, there was no sign of it. Someone said, “Trust young Nicholas!”
“Trust young Nicholas!” said Julius with the utmost good humour. “Who put the perishing archers on the wrong side of the road, and didn’t keep scouts at both ends, and didn’t see to it that we had enough light to tell one man from another? So what happened? And if we’re free, why are there guards outside that door?”
“Is that food?” Nicholas said.
“Yes. We’ve eaten. They feed you all right,” Julius said. “Listen. Why…?”
“Well, they forgot to feed me,” Nicholas said. “Go on. I can answer with my mouth full. Didn’t you recognise the citadel when they brought you in? Or even, my God, the smell of the goathair?”
“It was dark,” Julius said. “And we thought we were in Doria’s hands. And that’s something that—”
“I know. Later,” said Nicholas. He removed half a chicken for long enough to get the words out. They all sat round and watched him. Finally, he said, “Uzum Hasan’s men rescued us, but it would suit them to keep quiet about it. It would suit us as well. In fact, we could do each other quite a lot of good, and I want to talk to them about that while they’re willing. After that, we’ll be free to do what we came for. The caravans are in already. By the time they’re rested, we should be fit to go back.”
“And Doria?” said Julius.
Nicholas said, “They killed all his hired men, but I think we’ll find he’s escaped back to Trebizond with what’s left of the few he brought with him. Then it’s his word against ours.”
The captain said, “You mean, sir, that he’ll pretend he didn’t attack us?—There’s nothing to drink. Just some sickly stuff, and we finished it.”
“Well, damn you. In his shoes, I’d either say nothing, or else pretend I’d come across the signs of a bloody battle but no survivors. Come to think of it, that’s what he’ll think actually happened. Brigands attacked us, and the rest of us died.”
“Lord God Almighty, he’s going to get a shock,” Julius said. “When we all ride in with those camels.”
Without drink, it was impossible, unfortunately, to eat any more. Nicholas wiped his hands on some straw and got up. “When you ride in,” he said, “I’m not coming.”
“Why?” said Julius. His slanting brows jammed.
“They want me to weed out the harem,” Nicholas said. “They want to teach me some tricks on the farmuk. I promised to show them how to dye their handkerchiefs pink. Whatever we buy, I want to take it somewhere safer than Trebizond, and stay there.”
“Why?” said Julius.
“I’ll tell you, if you tell me how you knew Doria was following.”
“It was Paraskeuas,” Julius said. “He thought I knew. He thought of course you would have told me…You rode off on your own, you fool, knowing that Doria was following you?”
“You rode off on your own to warn me,” Nicholas said. Again and again, he owed his life to Julius, who understood him less than anyone he had ever met. But this time there was not just a tutor’s impatience in the way Julius was looking at him.
Julius said, “There was no time to do anything else if I was going to overtake Doria. I suppose we’d better send back a message to say we’re alive. What do you mean, somewhere safer than Trebizond?”
“To keep our cargo away from Doria, among other reasons. I’ll tell you more later, when I find out the Turcomans’ plans. I’d better go. They’re expecting me.”
Julius had risen also. He looked, for Julius, a little dazed. He said, “You trust the Turcomans? Turcomans send back Turkish spies with their chopped-off hands hung round their necks.”
“I know what you mean,” Nicholas said. “Can’t see to trim their fingernails without cutting their throats.” He watched, with pleasure, as Julius got annoyed.
Julius snapped, “So who’s expecting you? You haven’t met Uzum Hasan?”
“No. It’s his mother,” Nicholas said. “The Syrian. Remember? Her daughter-in-law is a princess from Trebizond. Her great-niece is the lady Violante. Violante of Naxos. That’s why I’m here. That’s why we were rescued. That is…I didn’t know we were going to be rescued, and I don’t know even yet what side the lady Violante is on.” He looked at the expression on Julius’s face and involuntarily gave a large sigh. “Julius—I’m sorry; but it simply isn’t practicable to tell everybody beforehand what I’m doing. It’s too damaging and it involves other people and I don’t know how it’s going to turn out anyway. Although,” said Nicholas thoughtfully, “I think this has a fair chance of success, if we live through it.”
She received him this time in a smaller tent and alone, except for Diadochos and the silent attendance of eunuchs. Instead of a throne, she sat at ease on a carpet; and after kneeling he took his place in front of her, opposite the monk with his black, shrouded hat. Someone laid a table before him, spread with platters of sugary things the size of his fingernail. Others poured him a cup of freezing fruit juice thickened with dust, which was presumably sherbet and was better than nothing, when it came to washing down chicken.
He saw that she was watching him, amused. Eventually she said, “Because you are among pagans, you need not observe pagan customs.” She made a sign, and a moment later he held a cup of red Cypriot wine in his hand. It was extremely strong: a Doria trick. He acknowledged it with infinite politeness and sipped it slowly. She said, “You have seen your notary?”
“And the rest. Thank you, Sara Khatun. They are being well cared for, but not in a lodging of honour.”
“Your soldiers are adequately housed. Your notary may join you. The escort is for your protection.” She got that out of the way, as unimportant. Her fingers moved a little, when she was impatient, and her rings glinted. She said, “We are, of course, discussing the destination of the camel trains. My son will make many purchases for his brothers, his household. There are other merchants, other emirs who will do the same. Then those who have come with the camels will take their goods where their best market is. Some will go to Trebizond. Some will elect to travel west to the great Turkish markets of Bursa. While they are here, the White Sheep are their hosts. It is our duty to escort them through our lands, and to see to their safety. It is possible that the road to Bursa is insecure, although we know that the Sultan will try not to hinder incoming trade. The fall of Amastris is not serious. But traders will hope, this year more than most years, to unburden themselves of much of their goods before going there. You have come to buy for the Emperor?”
An innocent question. He was good at those himself. She meant, “How big an investment are you making? Are you frightened, or are you and your army staying in Trebizond?”
He didn’t mind supplying the answers, provided she paid for them. Nicholas said, “Of course there will be no danger at all once the West sends its crusade. Fra Ludovico da Bologna is a persuasive man, and your son must rely on him. I hear the lord Uzum Hasan and the Emperor himself were pleased to tweak the Sultan’s beard over tributes quite recently.”
“Why not?” said the lady. “Is my son a weakling? He is the warlord even the Sultan Mehmet has learned to fear. These are men, and not vassals. Of course, God and this great Franciscan may have opened men’s hearts. Fleets may even now be crossing towards us. But what if not? Sinope and Tr
ebizond are impregnable. Georgia can flood the country with men. Trade will continue long after this small inconvenience is over. I had been told of strings of rubies, of turquoise of a quality these men seldom carry. The Emperor will covet them.”
“I have orders to buy,” Nicholas said, “from the Emperor and others in Trebizond. That alone would justify a caravan to the City. A hundred camels, perhaps. What the Venetians and the Genoese would take, I don’t of course know.” He could feel the eyes of Diadochos trained on him, but the man did not speak.
The Syrian said, “And what of purchases on your own account? What does Florence require, and the Medici, and the Charetty?”
“I had planned to buy a great deal,” Nicholas said. “I have the resources. But I have changed my mind about taking it to Trebizond. It is, of course, unassailable. But a siege would lose us a trading season.”
There was a short silence. She stirred. “It seems to me,” she said, “that you lack confidence. To a strong garrison, need a siege last so long? Trebizond has repulsed armies before.”
“Trebizond reaches accommodation with her enemies in many ways,” Nicholas said. “I have heard about them. I have met the Emperor.”
There was another pause. “It is a rarefied world, that of Byzantium,” the Lady said.
“Perhaps it was once,” Nicholas said. “It is half-Turkish now.”
He caught, swift as it was, the glance between the woman and the monk. It was the monk who said, “Was it Muslim, the Easter service you heard in the Chrysokephalos?”
It was Sara Khatun who said, “No. Give him the credit for what he has deduced. Yes, young Messer Niccolò. Eleven Trapezuntine princesses have married Muslims. Sultans have been known to marry Christian wives. My great-niece Violante and her sisters married Venetian merchants. Thus are alliances made, and children born with a hope of surviving.”
Nicholas said, “In any language, loyalty is a difficult word.”
She laughed. The sound took him by surprise. She said, “If you understand its meaning in any language, you must explain it to me one day. Yes, the City was once under the suzerainty of the Mongols; is under the suzerainty of the Ottomans, and shows the effect of it. The guard is turbanned. The market is held in a Meidan; the princes ride Turkish-style; shoot Turkish-style. The Empress is called Khatun, the title you gave me, as often as they name her Despoina. The Comneni nieces and nephews of my daughter-in-law are tutored by a Tatas, the soldiery are commanded by the Emir Candar; the Emperor’s chief falconer is his Emir Dogan. The bow-carrying page is called the horchi more often than he is called the Akocouthos, and your lover’s name is Iskender more often than it is Alexios.”
“He is not my lover,” said Nicholas furiously.
“Then someone’s plans have miscarried,” she said calmly. “Let me resume. It is true that the native Greek families have always despised the Comneni. It is true that, unlike Constantinople, Trebizond is bound to the East. To Georgia, to Armenia, to the tribes that flow across Asia. The costume they wear comes from Persia, and many of their old courtly practices. The Roman highways have gone. What remains is a king of Georgia descended from King David the Psalmist and an Ottoman sultan descended from Alexander the Great.”
“So it hardly matters who rules in Trebizond now?” Nicholas said.
She looked at him for a long time. Then she smiled. “You ask me that, in the presence of a Christian confessor?”
Nicholas said, “Your son allows Christian worship. So does the Sultan. There is a Greek patriarch in Constantinople and a Latin bishop in Caffa. Ludovico da Bologna was sent here, surely, to care for the Latin communities in Persia as well as in Georgia.”
Diadochos said, “It is true. He calls himself elected patriarch to all the nations of the Orient. An exaggeration, but only a slight one. But he was sent, too, as apostolic nuncio to encourage my lord Uzum Hasan to ally with the Empire of Trebizond against the Ottoman forces. Also, as I remember, to encourage my lord Uzum Hasan to ally with the Emperor of Ethiopia against both the Ottomans and the Mamelukes. It is clear, therefore, that Rome thinks that Christian congregations ought to have Christian rulers.”
“But you disagree?” Nicholas said.
The monk said, “What is best for the people? There are some who say that, under the Sultan, the Greek Church has found itself at last firmly united under one patriarch, instead of thrown to the winds in so many scattered communities under disparate rulers.”
“So much for their souls,” Nicholas said. “Or at least, I suppose, the souls of those who were not taken as children and turned into Muslims. So what of the rest? Would Muslim rule be more just, more efficient, more beneficent if an Ottoman governor sat in the Palace at Trebizond? Or a Turcoman?”
The monk looked at the princess, but did not speak. She said, “You see the tents, Niccolò?”
He said, “I see a city as well.”
“There are cities,” she said. “We worship in them. Its forts hold our troops, and our treasure. We visit its baths. But as yet we are a pastoral people. We live in tents, and move from place to place as policy, and war, and the grazing dictates. So did all tribes until recently. So did the Ottomans. It is only now that the Sultan is building markets and palaces; and even yet, he likes his freedom at Adrianople rather than the city at Constantinople. We have just rule, and a council; and in time we, too, will live in cities, no doubt, and collect Greek books and Western philosophers. But not just yet.”
“And the Sultan?” said Nicholas.
“He is a very young man,” said Sara Khatun. “And a clever one, trained in youth by the best brains his father could gather. He has learned central rule, a new trick, very quickly, and, like my son, he has courage, and some genius for strategy. In the end, my son will overcome him. But meanwhile, you, my young Frankish merchant, are afraid. You will take no goods to Trebizond. You will gather your promissory notes and your army and flee?”
Absorbed in listening and looking, he almost forgot to reply. He felt love for her, and pride, and even a sort of anxiety. As always, his face and manner were displaying something quite different. He said, “I don’t think so. I did come here to buy. Only, on reflection, I’d prefer to take my goods to Kerasous, not to Trebizond.”
She remained perfectly composed. “Kerasous is still in the Empire; equally on the sea; equally vulnerable to the Ottoman fleet. Why should it be safer than Trebizond?”
“Because the enemy who attacks the Empire will begin with Trebizond,” Nicholas said. “And Kerasous is a hundred miles away, and very strong.”
“So I have heard,” said the lady. “Indeed, you may be right. The Venetians, the Genoese, might well come to wish they had thought of it. And those merchants who carry such precious goods may well prefer that journey to the other to Trebizond. The road to Kerasous belongs to the White Sheep, and is well guarded.”
“There are, I believe, Venetian merchants here in the city,” said Nicholas. “If they wished it, they could choose their goods here and consign them to Kerasous. I would take them with mine. My people would care for them there; or they might have their own agents.”
The lady turned to the monk. “Would this be helpful?” she said.
“A happy suggestion,” said Diadochos. “There are Venetians at Kerasous. I know them, and the Imperial minister, and can supply what introductions are needed. It would be necessary to explain to the Bailie and the Genoese consul at Trebizond.”
“Would it?” said Nicholas. “I should greatly prefer to say nothing of Kerasous.”
“I see,” said the monk. “Then it might be put about that the Venetian merchandise has gone straight through to Bursa, as the merchants were unwilling to travel to Trebizond. It has happened before. There are both Venetians and Genoese merchants at Bursa.”
“Genoese?” Nicholas said. “So a Genoese agent here might be encouraged to bypass Trebizond also?”
“You wish the Genoese merchandise safe in Kerasous also?” Diadochos said. The princess wa
s smiling.
Nicholas answered her smile. “Not really,” he said. “It would lie on my conscience, two falsehoods. If we proclaim that the whole Genoese consignment has gone through to Bursa, then we ought to make sure it goes through to Bursa. The agents will send it from there to Pera for shipping, and everyone will be pleased. Or almost everyone.”
“And your own goods?” said the princess. “You cannot claim to have sent these to Bursa, where you have no connections. And you wish to conceal, you say, that your destination is Kerasous.”
“I shall think of something,” said Nicholas. “Khatun, these are great changes in the customary route for these traders. You say it is safer, but will they agree?”
She smiled faintly. “Silver helps.”
“Sara Khatun, I carry no silver,” said Nicholas.
“Few people do,” said the lady. “It is something of a miracle, then, that the pass from Vavuk proved to be paved with it. Those who brought it back have had their reward. I can spare enough from the remainder to encourage all who wish to make the trip to Kerasous, and give them good guides and protection. The rest I am willing to lend, on the assumption that there are couriers in Trebizond by whom the loan might be repaid in kind. It seems only just that trade, on which we all depend, should receive our encouragement.”
He was stunned with delight, and let it show. He gave her the broadest of smiles, regardless of what she thought of him. He said, “Lady, I bow to you, and to all of your family.”
Her eyebrows rose with the greatest delicacy; but she was not displeased: he could feel it. “And my great-niece?” she said. “You were, it appears, far from trusting my great-niece.”
Nicholas said, “Khatun, I trust you, and your son, and the lady Violante.”
The monk turned his head. “You have shown otherwise,” he said placidly.
“I was mistaken,” said Nicholas. “Tell her so.”