His head hurt from Gomez's blow. Touching his skull gingerly, he felt a lump where the iron hand had struck him. But he was not confused or dizzy, and he thought he would recover.
When dawn broke they stopped where the river ran through a grove of trees. They pulled the raft out of the water and concealed it with branches. Then they each took a turn to watch while the other two slept. Ebrima dreamed that he woke up in chains.
On the morning of the third day they saw the tall tower of Antwerp's cathedral in the distance. They abandoned the raft, letting it float free, and walked the last few miles. They were not yet out of trouble, Ebrima reckoned. They might be seized immediately and thrown in jail, then handed over to the Spanish military, to be hastily tried and speedily executed for the murder of Ironhand Gomez. However, on the busy roads leading to the city no one seemed to have heard about three Spanish soldiers--one with a red beard, one African--who had killed a captain in Kortrijk, then fled.
News went from city to city mainly in merchants' bulletins, which contained mostly commercial information. Ebrima could not read, but he understood from Carlos that such newsletters included details of crimes only if they were politically significant: assassinations, riots, coups. A tavern brawl in which all involved were foreign soldiers would be of little interest.
Antwerp was surrounded by water, he realized as they explored the outskirts. To the west was the broad sweep of the river Scheldt. On the other three sides, the city was separated from the mainland by a walled channel. The waterway was crossed by bridges, each leading directly to a fortified gate. It was said to be the richest town on earth, so naturally it was well defended.
Even if the guards knew nothing of what had happened in Kortrijk, would they admit ragged, starving men with swords? The friends approached with trepidation.
However, the guards gave no sign that they were looking for three fugitives from justice, to Ebrima's relief. They did look askance at the appearance of the three--who were wearing the clothes in which they had boarded the Jose y Maria two years ago--but then Barney said they were relatives of Jan Wolman, and suspicion melted away. The guards even gave directions to his address, near the high cathedral they had seen from so far away.
The island was indented with long, narrow docks and latticed with winding canals. Walking through the busy streets, Ebrima wondered how Jan Wolman would receive two penniless second cousins and an African. They might not be the most welcome of surprise visitors.
They found his home, a fine tall house in a row. They knocked at the door with apprehension, and were regarded doubtfully by the servants. But then Jan appeared and welcomed them with open arms. He said to Barney: "You look exactly like my late father when he was young and I was a boy." Jan himself had the red hair and golden-brown eyes of the Willards.
They had decided not to burden Jan with the whole truth about their flight from Kortrijk. Instead they said they had deserted from the Spanish army because they had not been paid. Jan believed them, and even seemed to think that soldiers who had not been paid had a right to desert.
Jan gave them wine, bread, and cold beef, for they were starved. Then he made them wash and loaned them clean shirts because, he said with amiable candor, they stank.
Ebrima had never been in a house like Jan's. It was not big enough to be called a palace, though it had plenty of room, especially for a city dwelling. However, it was crammed with costly furniture and objects: large, framed wall mirrors; Turkish rugs; decorated glassware from Venice; musical instruments; and delicate ceramic jugs and bowls that seemed to be for show rather than use. The paintings were also unlike anything Ebrima had seen. Netherlanders seemed to enjoy pictures of people like themselves, relaxing with books and cards and music in comfortable rooms similar to the ones they lived in, as if they found their own lives more interesting than those of the biblical prophets and figures of legend more common in Spanish art.
Ebrima was given a room smaller than those of Barney and Carlos, but he was not asked to sleep with the servants, and he concluded from this that Jan was not certain of his status.
That evening they sat around the table with the family: Jan's wife, Hennie; his daughter, Imke; and his three small boys, Frits, Jef, and Daan.
They used a mixture of languages. French was the main medium in the south and west of the Netherlands, and various Dutch dialects were spoken elsewhere. Jan, like many merchants, could get by in several languages, including Spanish and English.
Jan's daughter, Imke, was seventeen and attractive, with a wide happy smile and curly fair hair; a junior version of Hennie. She took an immediate shine to Barney, and Ebrima noticed that Carlos competed in vain for her attention. Barney had a roguish grin that girls loved. In Ebrima's opinion steady, reliable Carlos would make the better husband, but few teenage girls would be so wise as to see that. Ebrima himself had no interest in young girls, but he liked Hennie, who seemed intelligent and kind.
Hennie asked how they had come to join the Spanish army, and Ebrima began to tell the story, in mixed Spanish and French with a few dialect words when he knew them. He made the most of the drama, and soon the whole table was listening to him. He included the details of the new furnace, emphasizing that he had been an equal partner with Carlos in its invention. He explained how the blast of air made the fire burn so hot that the iron was produced in molten form and flowed out continuously, allowing the furnace to produce a ton of metal per day; and as he did so he observed Jan looking at him with new respect.
The Wolmans were Catholics, but they were horrified to learn how the church in Seville had treated Carlos. Jan said that kind of thing would never happen in Antwerp, but Ebrima wondered if he was right, given that the church in both countries was ruled by the same Pope.
Jan was excited by the blast furnace, and said that Ebrima and Carlos must meet his main supplier of metals, Albert Willemsen, as soon as possible, in fact tomorrow.
Next morning they all walked to a less affluent neighborhood near the docks. Albert lived in a modest house with his wife, Betje; a solemn little eight-year-old daughter, Drike; his attractive widowed sister, Evi; and Evi's son, Matthus, who was about ten. Albert's premises were strikingly like Carlos's old home in Seville, with a passage leading to a backyard workplace with a furnace and stocks of iron ore, limestone, and coal. He readily agreed that Carlos, Ebrima, and Barney could build a blast furnace in his yard, and Jan promised to lend them the money needed.
Over the following days and weeks, they got to know the city. Ebrima was struck by how hard the Netherlands people worked--not the poor, who worked hard everywhere, but the rich. Jan was one of the wealthiest men in town, but he worked six days a week. A Spaniard with that much money would have retired to the countryside, bought a hacienda, and paid a steward to collect rents from peasants so that his own lily-white fingers did not have to touch grubby money, while seeking an aristocratic match for his daughter in the hope that his grandchildren would have titles. Netherlanders did not seem to care much about titles, and they liked money. Jan bought iron and bronze and manufactured guns and ammunition; he bought fleeces from England and turned them into woolen cloth that he sold back to the English; he bought profitable shares in cargoes, workshops, farms, and taverns; and he loaned money to expanding businesses, to bishops who had overspent their incomes, and to princes. He always charged interest, of course. The church's prohibition against usury was ignored here.
Heresy was another thing that did not trouble the people of Antwerp. The city was thronged with Jews, Muslims, and Protestants, all cheerfully identifying themselves by their clothing, all doing business on an equal footing. There were folk of many complexions: red-beards like Barney, Africans like Ebrima, light brown Turks with wispy moustaches, and beige Chinamen with straight blue-black hair. The Antwerpers hated nobody, except those who did not pay their debts. Ebrima liked the place.
Nothing was said about Ebrima's freedom. Every day he went with Carlos and Barney to Albert's yard, and every ev
ening they all ate at Jan's house. On Sundays Ebrima went to church with the family, then slipped away in the afternoon--when the other men were sleeping off the wine they had drunk with the midday meal--and found a place out in the countryside where he could perform the water rite. No one called Ebrima a slave, but in other respects his life was worryingly similar to how it had been in Seville.
While they were working in the yard Albert's sister, Evi, often sat with them when they took a break. She was about forty, a little on the heavy side--as were many well-fed Netherlands women in their middle years--with a distinct twinkle in her blue-green eyes. She talked to them all, but especially to Ebrima, who was close to her own age. She had a lively curiosity, and questioned him about life in Africa, pressing him for details, some of which he had to strain to remember. As a widow with a child, she was probably looking for a husband; and since both Carlos and Barney were too young to be interested in her, Ebrima had to wonder whether she had a speculative eye on him. He had not been intimate with a woman since parting with Elisa, but he hoped that was a temporary state: he certainly did not intend to live the life of a monk.
Building the blast furnace took a month.
When they were ready to test it, both Jan's family and Albert's came to watch.
At that point Ebrima recollected that they had done this only once before, and so they could not be sure it would work a second time. The three of them would look stupid if it failed. Worse, a fiasco would blight their future--which made Ebrima realize he had been half-consciously hoping to stay and make a living here. And he hated the thought of making a fool of himself in front of Evi.
Carlos lit the fire, Ebrima poured in the iron ore and lime, and Barney whipped on the two harnessed horses that drove the bellows mechanism.
As before, there was a long, nail-biting wait.
Barney and Carlos fidgeted nervously. Ebrima struggled to maintain his habitual impassivity. He felt as if he had staked everything on the turn of a single card.
The spectators became a bit bored. Evi started talking to Hennie about the problems of having adolescent children. Jan's three sons chased Albert's daughter around the yard. Albert's wife, Betje, offered oranges on a tray. Ebrima was too tense to eat.
Then the iron began to flow.
The molten metal inched slowly from the base of the furnace into the prepared stone channels. At first the motion was agonizingly slow, but soon the flow strengthened, and began to fill the ingot-shaped hollows in the ground. Ebrima poured more raw materials into the top of the furnace.
He heard Albert say wonderingly: "Look at that--it just keeps coming!"
"Exactly," Ebrima said. "As long as you keep feeding the furnace, it will keep giving you iron."
Carlos warned: "It's pig iron--it has to be purified before it can be used."
"I can see that," Albert said. "But it's still impressive."
Jan said incredulously: "Are you telling me that the king of Spain turned up his nose at this invention?"
Carlos replied: "I don't suppose King Felipe even heard of it. But the other ironmakers in Seville felt threatened. Spanish people don't like change. The people who run our industries are very conservative."
Jan nodded. "I suppose that's why the king buys so many cannons from foreigners like me--because Spanish industry doesn't produce enough."
"And then they complain that the silver from America arrives in Spain only to leave again right away."
Jan smiled. "Well, as we're Netherlands merchants rather than Spanish grandees, let's go into the house, have a drink, and talk business."
They went inside and sat around the table. Betje served them beer and cold sausage. Imke gave the children raisins to keep them quiet.
Jan said: "The profits from this new furnace will be used first to pay off my loan, with interest."
Carlos said: "Of course."
"Afterward, the money should be shared out between Albert and yourselves. Is that how you see it?"
Ebrima realized that the word yourselves was deliberately vague. Jan did not know whether Ebrima was to be included as an equal partner with Carlos and Barney.
This was no time for humility. Ebrima said: "The three of us built the furnace together: Carlos, Barney, and me."
Everyone looked at Carlos, and Ebrima held his breath. Carlos hesitated. This was the real test, Ebrima realized. When they had been on the raft, it had cost Carlos nothing to say You're a free man, Ebrima, but this was different. If Carlos acknowledged Ebrima as an equal, in front of Jan Wolman and Albert Willemsen, he would be committed.
And Ebrima would be free.
At last Carlos said: "A four-way split, then. Albert, Barney, Ebrima, and me."
Ebrima's heart bounded, but he kept his face expressionless. He caught Evi's eye, and saw that she was looking pleased.
That was when Barney dropped his bombshell. "Count me out," he said.
Carlos said: "What are you talking about?"
"You and Ebrima invented this furnace," Barney said. "I hardly did anything. Anyway, I'm not staying in Antwerp."
Ebrima heard Imke gasp. She would be disappointed: she had fallen in love with Barney.
Carlos said: "Where will you go, Barney?"
"Home," said Barney. "I've had no contact with my family for more than two years. Since we arrived in Antwerp, Jan has confirmed that my mother lost everything when Calais fell. My brother, Ned, no longer works in the family business--there is no business--and he's some kind of secretary in the court of Queen Elizabeth. I want to see them both. I want to make sure they're all right."
"How will you get to Kingsbridge?"
"There's a Combe Harbour ship docked here in Antwerp at the moment--the Hawk, owned by Dan Cobley, captained by Jonas Bacon."
"You can't afford passage--you haven't got any money."
"Yesterday I spoke to the first mate, Jonathan Greenland, who I've known since I was a boy. One of the crew died on the voyage here, the ship's blacksmith and carpenter, and I've taken his job, just for the journey home."
"But how will you make a living back in England, if your family business is gone?"
Barney gave the devil-may-care grin that broke the hearts of girls like Imke. "I don't know," he said. "I'll think of something."
Barney questioned Jonathan Greenland as soon as the Hawk was out at sea and the crew were able to think about something other than steering the ship.
Jonathan had spent last winter in Kingsbridge, and had left to rejoin the ship only a few weeks ago, so he had all the latest news. He had called on Barney's mother, expecting Alice to be as eager as ever for reports from overseas. He had found her sitting in the front parlor of the big house, looking out at the west front of the cathedral, doing nothing; surrounded by old ledgers but never opening them. Apparently she attended meetings of the borough council, but did not speak. Barney found it hard to imagine his mother not doing business. For as long as he could remember, Alice had lived for deals, percentages, and profits; the challenge of making money by trading absorbed her completely. This transformation was ominous.
Sir Reginald Fitzgerald, who had plotted Alice's ruin, was still mayor of Kingsbridge, and living in Priory Gate, his vast new palace, Jonathan said. However, Bishop Julius had been brought down. Queen Elizabeth had broken all her promises and returned England to Protestantism. She required all priests to take the Oath of Supremacy, swearing allegiance to her as the supreme governor of the Church of England: refusal was treason. Almost all the lower clergy had agreed, but most of the old Catholic bishops had not. They could have been executed, but Elizabeth had vowed not to kill people for their faith, and she was keeping to that--so far. Most of the bishops were merely dismissed from their posts. Julius was living with two or three former monks in a house attached to St. Mark's Church in northern Kingsbridge. Jonathan had seen him drunk in the Bell Inn on a Saturday night, telling anyone who would listen that the true Catholic faith would return soon. He made a sad figure, Jonathan said, but Barney
thought the malevolent old priest deserved a worse fate.
Jonathan also explained to Barney the attractions of life at sea. Jonathan was at home on board ship: he was sunburned and wiry, with hard hands and feet, as nimble as a squirrel in the rigging. Toward the end of the war against France, the Hawk had captured a French vessel. The crew had shared the profits with Captain Bacon and Dan Cobley, and Jonathan got a bonus of sixty pounds on top of his wages. He had bought a house in Kingsbridge for his widowed mother, and had rejoined the crew in the hope of more of the same.
"But we're no longer at war," Barney said. "If you capture a French ship now, you're guilty of piracy."
Jonathan shrugged. "We'll be at war with someone, before too long." He tugged at a rope, checking the security of a knot that was evidently as tight as it could be, and Barney guessed that he did not want to be questioned too closely about piracy.
Barney changed the subject and asked about his brother.
Ned had come to Kingsbridge for Christmas, wearing an expensive new black coat and looking older than twenty. Jonathan knew that Ned worked with Sir William Cecil, who was secretary of state, and people in Kingsbridge said Ned was an increasingly powerful figure at court, despite his youth. Jonathan had talked to him in the cathedral on Christmas Day, but had not learned much: Ned had been vague about exactly what he did for the queen, and Jonathan guessed he was involved in the secretive world of international diplomacy.
"I can't wait to see them," Barney said.
"I can imagine."
"It should be only a couple of days, now."
Jonathan checked another rope, then looked away.
No one expected to get into a fight on the journey along the Channel from Antwerp to Combe Harbour, but Barney felt he ought to work his passage by making sure the Hawk's armaments were ready for action.
Merchant ships needed guns as much as any other vessel. Seafaring was a dangerous business. In wartime, ships of one combatant nation could legitimately attack ships of the enemy; and all the major countries were at war as often as they were at peace. In peacetime the same activity was called piracy, but it went on almost as much. Every ship had to be able to defend itself.