The Coffee Trader

“Surely you must have some article of value you can pawn,” I suggested. “Some clothes you have failed to mention, old jewels perhaps. A cat? I know a pawnbroker who will give a fair price for a proven mouser.”

“I have nothing,” he told me.

“You are a thief,” I reminded him. “You can steal it. Or have I, in some way, misunderstood the nature of thievery?”

“I am not much of a thief anymore.” He held up his hands. “My fingers are no longer nimble, and my feet are no longer swift. I dare not make the attempt.”

“Hmm.” I scratched at my beard. “How long has this been going on-this clumsy-finger and leaden-foot difficulty? Awhile?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“A long while? Let us say, more than a year?”

“I would say so, yes.”

“So when you borrowed this money of me, you knew you would not be able to repay? Am I a charitable board to hand out alms? Do you come to me because you have heard of my generosity? You must tell me, because I am confused.”

I admit this harangue served no function but to buy myself time as I decided what course of action to follow. Rarely did I find someone who could pay me nothing and who had no skills I could put into service for myself.

“What,” I asked him, “do you think I should do with one such as you?”

He gave this some long consideration. “I think,” he said at last, “that you should cut off the little fingers from each of my hands. I haven’t the skill of a cutpurse any longer, so I won’t much miss them except as any man would miss parts of his body. And in doing this, you can let the world know that you are determined not to be cheated. I think that would be the merciful thing.”

Here was a handsome situation. How could I avoid cutting off his little fingers-fingers he volunteered for their severing-without revealing myself to be the sort of man who simply re-frained from those sorts of cruelties? I truly believed he had forced my hand and I had no choice but to cut off the man’s fingers-though, being merciful, I was prepared to cut off only one. How else could I save my fierce reputation? I know not what dark path I might have followed if I had not been rescued by the most unlikely of men.

As I stared at the old fellow and contemplated his fate, I heard the slap of metal on wood. I and my Dutchmen turned and saw a figure standing in the dim light, erect as a royal guard. It was none other than Solomon Parido.

“Here is the ten guilders he owes you,” he said coolly. “I won’t allow this thing to transpire.”

“I had no idea you possessed such charity in your heart,” I said.

“I ca

“Senhor, the air circulates poorly in this room, and I fear your sanctimoniousness will suffocate us all. Nevertheless, I’m sure our friend here is grateful for your intervention.”

The old thief, knowing an opportunity when he saw one, chimed in. “Ten guilders is but the principal. You have neglected the interest.”

Claes and Caspar looked at me, awaiting orders. I did not want this farce witnessed, so I sent them all out of the room. I told the Dutchmen to free the thief with a slap or two for good measure, and they were gone. I sat facing my old enemy in the thin light of a musky closet. I had not had private words with Parido since my exile. There had been a few barbs exchanged on the street or in taverns where we crossed paths, but nothing like this.

It occurred to me that here was a fine opportunity for revenge. Why could I not have Claes and Caspar remove his little fingers or give him a slap or two for good measure? But that was not the sort of revenge I craved.

“Have you come to apologize to me?” I asked. I gestured for him to sit on one of the old stools in the room and lit my pipe by dipping a large splinter into the oil lamp and then into the packed bowl.

Parido remained standing, too great a man to place his ass on a stool that one such as I might use. “You know I haven’t.”

“I know you haven’t,” I agreed. “Well, then. It must be something for you to come here. I believe it to have worked this way: you had your Ma’amad spies track me to this place and you thought it perfect, for surely no one would see you enter or leave. You were willing to tear open your purse for that old thief because you could not imagine a more private meeting than this, and you were willing to take the opportunity when it presented itself. So now that we know all that, let us move on.” I blew smoke at him. “What do you want, Parido?”

His dignity would not permit him to swat at the smoke, but I could see him struggling not to gag. “I have questions for you to answer,” he said.

“I suppose then we’ll see if I feel like answering, but I can promise you nothing. You see, Parido, I can’t think of any reason why I should want to help you or provide you with answers about anything. You treated me as no Jew should treat another. This is not the Ma’amad chamber of the Talmud Torah, this is the belly of Amsterdam, and if I decide you are never vomited out, no one will hear from you more.”

“Don’t threaten me,” he said evenly.

I admired his courage and laughed at his stupidity-perhaps I had not secured my villainous reputation as carefully as I ought. He had every reason to be frightened yet did not seem to know or care. I only shrugged in return. “I suppose we’ll see what’s a threat and what isn’t. In the meantime, I am nothing short of astonished at your pluck, showing up as you have, as though I might be happy to forgive your wrongs.”

“I won’t defend my actions. I have only come to ask you if you encouraged Miguel Lienzo to pursue a trade in whale oil, knowing that his trade would harm me while keeping that possibility hidden from Lienzo himself. In other words, did you use him as your pawn?”

Quite the contrary: I had gone so far as to warn Miguel Lienzo about just this sort of thing, but I was not about to tell Parido that much. “Why should you ask me that?”

“Because that is what Lienzo says.”

Ah, Lienzo, I thought. Using my name to his advantage. Well, why should he not? Surely Parido cornered him, and, rather than risking himself, he blamed the souring of Parido’s finances on Alferonda the way peasants blame the souring of milk on imps. The parnass could do me no more harm than he already had. I was in no danger. I therefore did not feel any anger toward Miguel, who had only been behaving prudently.

I shook my head. “I would have done so if I could have, but I will not commit the sin of lying to protect any man. I had nothing to do with any whale-oil futures of yours. I suspect Lienzo is protecting himself or protecting another man by suggesting that it was me.”

But, you may wonder, if I did not resent Miguel for taking liberties with my name, why did I not protect him? Why did I expose him to Parido’s anger when I might so easily have absorbed that anger myself?

I did so because I could not risk a rapprochement between the two. Far better that Miguel should face Parido’s wrath.