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“The child again,” she snapped. “You act like no one has ever been with child before.”
“I won’t take any more chances. God has shown me, He has warned me of the dangers. I was almost caught once, and I would be a fool to ignore His mercy.”
“God did not save you,” A
Ha
“You know it’s true,” the maid said petulantly. “We’ll see how many nights you can endure, lying awake, knowing that if you are to die in your sleep, you are destined for hell’s torments. Then you will change your mind.”
“Perhaps,” Ha
“In any case,” A
“I promise.” As she said the words, she knew she lied and felt a strange new pleasure in how easily the lie came. She knew she would tell Miguel, though she could not say when or why or what would be the consequence of an act that could well mean her ruin.
A week after his conversation with Hendrick, Miguel sat with Geertruid in the Singing Carp. She had sent him a note a
Hendrick spoke in a rapid rural Dutch, and Miguel had a hard time following the circuitous narrative, which had something to do with a childhood friend and a stolen barrel of pickled beef. When he finished, he laughed in appreciation of himself. “That’s some story, eh, Jew Man?”
“I like it very much,” answered Miguel.
“He likes it very much,” Hendrick said to Geertruid. “He is kind to say so.”
Why did Geertruid not send away this clown? But Miguel could tell that she had been drinking a little too much. Hendrick had been drinking too. “Now it is your turn,” he said to Miguel. He gri
This was a test of some sort, but Miguel had no idea how to proceed. “I have no story to tell,” he answered, “or none that can compete with your pickled beef tale.” In truth, Miguel could not make himself calm. He had only a third of Geertruid’s money remaining, and when the time came, he would have no way of paying Nunes. He’d been able to put the lost money out of his mind, but here with Geertruid he could not bring himself to forget it.
“I have no story to tell,” Hendrick repeated, imitating Miguel’s accent. “Come now, Jew Man. Show yourself to be game for once. You enjoy my generous entertainment, and I would so like you to give something in return. Would you not like to hear a story, madam?”
“I’d love to hear a story,” Geertruid agreed. “The senhor is so witty.”
“I see I’m outnumbered,” he said, making a show of good nature. “What sort of story should I tell?”
“That’s for you to say. Something that tells of your mighty adventures. You can tell us a story of your amorous victories or the strangeness of your race or some incomprehensible plan to conquer the Exchange.”
Miguel had no time to respond, for a man had come behind Hendrick with a tankard in his hand and swung hard, aiming to hit Hendrick in the head. It was his good fortune that Hendrick had leaned in a few inches to make some comment to Geertruid, so the pewter tankard came down hard, but it struck the Dutchman in the shoulder and then flew from the assailant’s hand, spraying beer into Miguel’s face before it clattered upon the wooden floor.
“God’s fucking whore,” Hendrick said, with surprising calm. He leapt from his seat in an instant and turned to face his attacker, a man at least a head shorter than Hendrick and thin-almost shockingly so-but for an enormous belly. His face had turned red with the exertion of his blow and the failure to bring it home.
“You rotten bastard!” the man shouted. “I know who you are, and I’ll kill you!”
“Christ,” Hendrick said petulantly, as though he had been asked to perform an unpleasant chore. He let out a puff of breath and struck the man hard in the face. The blow came fast, and his assailant went down on the floor to the cheers of the patrons.
In an instant the barkeep came out and, with the help of a servant, dragged the attacker toward the kitchens. Miguel guessed he would be thrown into the alley out back.
Hendrick smiled sheepishly. “I’d wager that fellow doesn’t much like me.”
Miguel nodded as he wiped the beer from his face.
“I don’t think there will be any trouble,” Geertruid said, “but you may wish to get gone.”
Hendrick nodded. “I take your meaning. Good day to you, Jew Man. ”
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes once Hendrick had left, and Miguel pondered the unanswerable question of how Geertruid understood what had passed.
“Tell me once more why you associate with him,” Miguel said, after a moment.
“Anyone can make enemies,” Geertruid said unconvincingly. “He is a rough man with rough friends, and they sometimes settle their differences uncouthly.”
It was true enough. Miguel found himself secretly hoping that Joachim might someday confront him with Hendrick nearby.
“In any case,” Geertruid said, still sounding a little drunk, “I am sorry you had to witness such trouble.”
He shook his head. “Where have you been these past days?”
“I never stay in one place for long,” she told him. She set a hand on top of his. “I like to visit my relatives in the countryside. It is a sad bird who never leaves her nest.”
“I wish you would inform me of when you plan to go away and when you plan to return. If we are to do business together, I must be able to find you.”
She patted his hand and looked directly into his eyes. “Of course. I’ll be good to you.”
Miguel took his hand away. He was in no mood for her nonsense. “It is not a matter of being good to me, but of being good to our business. This is not some silly woman’s game.”
“And I am not some silly woman,” she answered, her voice now hard as steel. “I may be soft, but I am not a fool to be lectured.”
Miguel felt himself go pale. He could not recall her ever having spoken to him thus. Like a Dutch husband, he wanted nothing so much as to placate her. “Madam, I of all men would never call you a fool. I only wished to say that I must be able to speak with you.”
She turned to him, her head at an angle, her thin lips spread in a warm smile, her eyes wide and inviting. “Of course, senhor. I have been at fault.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Miguel muttered. “And we have more important business to discuss. I have received several letters from our agents, and I’m optimistic that we’ll receive more good news within the next few weeks.”
She took a drink from her tankard. “Have we all the agents we require?”
“Not quite. We still lack Madrid, Lisbon, and Oporto.” He made every effort to sound unconcerned, but the truth was that there could be no control of the market without Iberia. “It is a problem,” Miguel added.
Geertruid studied him. “How will you solve this problem?” Her voice sounded icy.
“If I could answer that question I would have already solved it.”
“I put forth the money. I’ve done my part. Your part is to make it work-otherwise I should hardly need you.”
Miguel shook his head. “If you have no faith in this project, you must tell me now. There is still time to cancel the sale, though we lose the premium.”
Geertruid shook her head. “I don’t want to cancel the sale. I want the problem solved, and if it ca
“Very well,” he said sullenly. He had hardly been prepared for her to take this posture. “If I have not resolved the question of the Iberian agents in two weeks, we’ll cancel.”