The Coffee Trader

She had been enjoying these dainties along with the scent of her civet perfume and her new linens and ribbons, when the pinch-faced widow informed her that there was a man-a merchant, it seemed-there to see her. The widow did not like that the girl said to send him up, for she did not enjoy being a woman who allowed young women to receive men in their rooms, but she could hardly prevent that sort of thing, and since some folks will be Christian and some will not, there was not much to be done for it. She sent the man up.

A knock on the door, and the girl answered, wearing a new blue gown, cut just so. Most enticing, I promise you, showing off her shape to full advantage. What man could resist this beauty in that dress? She smiled at her visitor. “Hello, senhor,” she said. “Have you missed me?”

I doubt he smiled back, and he had most likely not missed her. “I want a moment of your time, A

He stepped in and closed the door behind him, but he kept his distance from her. Here was a man who knew the dangers of a blue dress.

“What?” she asked. “No kiss for your old friend?”

“I have something to inquire of you.”

“Of course. You may ask me anything you wish.”

“I wish to know if, while you were in my brother’s employ, you were paid by anyone to observe the doings of our household.”

The girl let out a loud titter. “You want to know if I was a spy?”

“If you like, yes.”

“Why should I tell you?” she asked saucily, as she swished her skirts around the room like a little girl at play. Perhaps she enjoyed teasing her visitor. Perhaps she wished him to see what she thought of as her finery: her furniture; her ribbons, scattered about the room as though she had a hundred such things; her ample fruit. She could eat an apple or a pear anytime she liked. She could eat another one. There seemed to be no end to the supply. She lived in these two rooms-two of them!-in the newest part of town, while some folks lived in wet basements on a soggy island in the midst of a foul canal.

“You should tell me,” he answered, his voice hardening, “because I asked it of you, and for no other reason. But if you like, I can pay you for your answers since they seem to require considerable effort.”

“If you pay me,” she observed, “then I might give any answer I think would please you so you will think your coin well spent. I do like to please those who give me money.” She certainly spoke the truth there.

“Then tell me what I ask because I have always been kind to you in the past.”

“Such kindness.” She laughed again. “Such kindness as that may be found in the breeches of any man in this city, but that’s all one, I suppose. You want to know if anyone paid me to spy on you. I will tell you that someone did. It is no betrayal for me to say so-at least I don’t think it is, for I have not been paid as I was promised, and if I am not to have my money then at least I will have my revenge.”

“Who was it that paid you?”

“Why, it was your widow friend,” she said, “the lovely Madam Damhuis. She promised me ten guilders if I but kept an eye on you and that willful bitch, the senhora. Have you been kind to her too?”

The visitor would not be baited. “What did she pay you to do?”

“Only to see how she was discussed in the house. I was to discourage the senhora from speaking of her encounters with madam. She said you were not to suspect anything, but that you would not-so long as I showed you my favors. Then, she said, you would be as stupid as a cow being led to its slaughter.”

“What are her ends?” he asked. “Why did she want you to do these things?”

A

A

The merchant declined. He only thanked the girl and took his leave.

Thus went the final conversation between Miguel Lienzo and his brother’s former servant. It is sad how badly these matters can end. He and the girl knew a fond intimacy for many months, but there was never any real tenderness there. He wanted only her flesh, and she his coin. A poor foundation for any congress between man and woman.

And how does Alferonda know all of this? How can he write of the private words spoken in an obscure boardinghouse in the Jordaan? Alferonda knows because he heard it all-he was in the next room, lying on the girl’s rough mattress.

Not so long ago I had been enjoying some of the dainties she had offered to Miguel. She had told her visitor exactly what I had instructed her to say, in case he came calling. Madam Damhuis, of course, had never paid the girl a stuiver, nor had she ever promised to do so. She had never spoken a word to the girl but once, when she had stopped the senhora on the Hoogstraat.

A

30

Miguel had been ignoring notes from Isaiah Nunes for weeks, and had been doing so self-righteously since he learned that Nunes was in league with Parido. But then Nunes’s notes began to talk of the Ma’amad, and Miguel wondered if he ought not take these threats more seriously. In all likelihood, Nunes only meant to add verisimilitude to his ruse, but it was also possible that Parido might want to see Miguel brought before the board. It would be difficult to prove the trickery Miguel suspected, and he could not begin to do so without revealing his co

Miguel had come to believe there was only one way to obtain the money he needed. He therefore dashed off a quick note and three hours later found himself in the coffee tavern meeting with Alonzo Alferonda.

“I’ll be direct with you,” Miguel said. “I would like to borrow some money.”

His companion’s eyes narrowed. “Borrowing from Alferonda is a dangerous business.”

“I’m prepared to take the risk.”

Alferonda laughed. “Very bold of you. How much did you have in mind?”

Miguel swallowed a gulp of Turkish coffee. “Fifteen hundred guilders.”

“I am a kind man with a generous heart, but you must think me a fool. With all the difficulties you face, why would I give you such a sum?”

“Because,” Miguel said, “by doing so you will help me ruin Solomon Parido’s plans.”

Alferonda ran a hand across his beard. “I don’t know that there could have been another answer quite so effective.”

Miguel smiled. “Then you’ll do it?”

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

Miguel, who had not bothered to formulate a plan fully, began to talk, but what came out was greatly to Alferonda’s liking.

Miguel sat in the Three Dirty Dogs awaiting Geertruid. Like all the Dutch, she thrived on punctuality, but not this time. Perhaps she had found out that Miguel knew of her deception. Miguel tried to think of the ways that might possibly happen. It seemed unlikely that Joachim and Geertruid would have any contact, and he felt fairly certain that Alferonda could not have betrayed him. Had Hendrick seen Miguel observing him in the tavern that night? What if he had, and then he had held off telling Geertruid for some reason of his own? Or perhaps Geertruid had waited to see how Miguel would respond to that knowledge.

When she showed up she appeared disordered and out of breath. He had never seen her so shaken. Lowering herself down, she explained what had happened. A man had fallen and broken his leg in front of her on the Rozengracht, she said, and she and a gentleman who happened to be there had helped to take him to a surgeon. It was shocking stuff, she said. The man had screamed with agony the whole time. She called at once for a beer.