She had not, herself, expected that. In the political battles of Bruges she had studied the unattractive qualities that made for plebeian success; extreme ambition being the foremost. She had looked to find it in Nicholas, as well as the common attributes of the soldier: physical stamina, physical boldness, a convenient coarseness of feeling. These, she thought, were all there, but present also was something inborn that advised him in his dealings with people.
On the voyage, he had got his own way with guile. Now he gave orders. No one, placed as they were, could disobey him, but his objectives were not necessarily theirs, and the result could have been gloom and resentment. He had worked to make sure it was not. He endured the same hardships, and worse. He excelled Jorge in concise exposition, so that they knew what they were doing, and why. He taught Filipe the use of a crossbow and took lessons from Vito in butchering. He gave each man his due, and when rest was imperative, he contrived the best of comfort and food he could manage. He supported Bel and Godscalc in their doctoring, and talked them through and over each death. He did it all, as she knew, because he wanted to get to the gold.
Now he walked over to Godscalc and said, ‘We can spend the night here. Doria came, but passed over the river. Saloum has gone to see where.’ His white surtout was smeared with tree-climbing, and Bel had sewn him a brimmed goatskin hat with hanging strings on it. His beard and moustache had come in daffodil-yellow, and already the dimples were covered.
Godscalc said, ‘I was afraid they had escaped us by water. Was Lopez still with them?’
‘And Doria,’ Nicholas said. ‘And six bearers with all their spare clothes and food. Or so we gather. Saloum isn’t sure of the dialect.’ He paused and said, ‘I’m not sitting down, because I have to go and catch fish.’
Gelis said, ‘He’s done enough. I’ll come with you. Have you a net, or have you come for my hair?’ Under the headcloth it hung in long, plaited rats’ tails.
Nicholas picked up the end of the longest. ‘No, but come. We’ll put a slug on it and hold you head downwards. Or …’ He looked at Godscalc.
‘Do you want to?’ said Godscalc.
They knew, of course, about women. She felt her pallid cheeks flush, and then was angry, but chiefly with herself. She said, ‘Thank you. I want to.’
She had to wait, but briefly, while Nicholas marshalled the rest of his party and saw them into the hands of the headman to be allotted places to sleep and to eat. The people here were not afraid: the compound shook to the thud of the pestles as the women pounded the grain-vats and tittered; children ran among goats and poultry and girls paused to stare on their way to fetch water, languidly skeining cloth into a headpad and placing great yellow gourds on their crowns. They bore themselve like empresses.
Jorge was absent, no doubt for the usual reasons, so Vito and Diniz took charge. Nicholas supervised for a while. When he came back to Gelis, he carried two pails, slung on either end of a yoke over his shoulder. There was another for her. He said, ‘We don’t need equipment. We’ve been invited to help in the fishing. I throw out the fish and you catch them.’
She said, ‘How will you know what they are saying?’ The ground was soft. She had left her skin shoes with Bel and her toughened feet pressed down the grasses.
He said, ‘You shouldn’t do that; remember Manoli. We’ll manage. I could interpret St Augustine to a deaf and dumb Jalofo by now.’
Ahead she could hear the sound of the river, and splashing. She said, ‘What would you do if anything happened to Saloum?’
He said, ‘Follow the signs. But it would be difficult.’
She glanced round at him then. ‘We are only really safe, aren’t we, because he is a marabout?’
‘He commands respect,’ Nicholas said. ‘Although few of these people are orthodox in their beliefs. But yes, they don’t attack us because he is black, and a marabout, and may have greater magic than theirs, and we freed him.’ He was looking ahead through the trees. He said, without any change in his voice, ‘To no avail, it would seem.’
The unseen river ran still, overlaid with the hiss of the cicadas. In a bough overhead something hooted, to be distantly answered from the massive canopy of birdsong that twittered and chirruped and sang below a reddening sky. Drums pattered emptily in the distance, or throbbed closer at hand; and somewhere not too far ahead was a murmur of voices unevenly pulsing together, with a single voice filling the spaces. The fish were being apostrophised.
The man staggering towards Nicholas and Gelis contributed nothing to the general noise because his mouth was smashed in, and his nose broken, and his black skin glistening through a moving river of blood. It was Saloum, alone.
Gelis ran forward. Nicholas reached the marabout before her, and was already grasping his body as the Mandingua dropped to his knees. The blood from his face had spurted over his garments and the blotches were soaking together. He sank back on his heels and Nicholas, holding him, ran a hand lightly over the rest of him. He said, ‘Only his face. What happened, Saloum?’ Gelis pulled off her headcloth and knelt.
‘I hit him,’ said Jorge da Silves, and walked up to them all from the trees.
Cloth in hand, Gelis stayed where she was. Nicholas relinquished Saloum and stood up. ‘I was going to kill him,’ said Jorge. ‘Until I remembered we had nobody else.’ He had a club in one hand, and his nostrils above the black beard were blanched. He said, ‘I found him drawing the symbol.’
‘Where?’ Nicholas said.
‘At the river. He was going to cross to the opposite bank. He has drawn them all,’ Jorge said.
‘How do you know?’ Nicholas said. He had a knife at his waist but hadn’t touched it. His voice and eyes, resting on the Portuguese, were both quiet.
‘He has the carmine, there in his garments. The paint was wet.’
‘But all of them?’ Nicholas said. Beside Gelis, Saloum rose to his feet. He had wiped his face with her cloth and held it, smeared with blood, under the fringe of his beard. She rose too, and stood between him and Jorge.
‘All of them. I told him,’ said Saloum. His lips, swollen and fissured, would hardly move. He was swallowing blood. ‘I am sorry,’ he said.
‘You …?’ said Jorge, and took a step forward. His neck and face were suffused.
‘No,’ said Nicholas, and, catching the club, twisted it from the other man’s grasp. He flung it away. ‘Don’t. It’s bad, but he isn’t an enemy.’
‘He isn’t?’ Jorge said. ‘Where is Doria? Where is your so-called friend Lopez? We are not following in the footsteps of either. We are being sent to our deaths by their ally, this traitor.’
‘Perhaps,’ Nicholas said. ‘Although I don’t think so. I suggest we ask him. If he can speak.’
‘He needs water,’ said Gelis. ‘If you take him back, the others will kill him.’
‘They will do,’ Jorge said, ‘what I will do, when I have picked up my club again. Beat him until he tells us the way to the mines. And then force him to lead us in shackles.’
The sky flared with the last of the sunset; soon they would be in darkness and outside the compound. A swirl of smoke rose from the banks of the river where torches and fires would be lit. They could find no refuge from curiosity there. In the last of the light, she saw that Saloum’s whole attention, mind and soul, was on Nicholas. And in the eyes of Nicholas was an expression she had never seen: one of desolation that came close to anguish. He said, ‘I must speak apart to Saloum. There will be a hut where he could hide in the village. Gelis?’
She looked at Jorge.
‘Will you take him, Gelis?’ Nicholas said.
She understood, without words. He said, referring to Jorge, ‘I won’t harm him.’
He was lying, if one took it too literally. She had hardly started to move when Nicholas drew back a fist and struck the Portuguese such a blow that he fell senseless. Gelis didn’t wait to see more. She said, ‘Come!’ to Saloum, but could not make him hurry as, walking stoically beside her, he accompanied h
er back to her hut in the village.
An hour later Nicholas came, and Bel and Gelis admitted him. The single torch showed him Saloum, his clothes fresh, his face swollen and salved. Nicholas crossed and sat Turkish-style facing the three of them. Saloum bowed his head. Gelis said, ‘He has deceived us.’
‘I guessed,’ Nicholas said. ‘I gave Lopez the slaves, but I didn’t impose any promise. The mines are a secret. He kept it.’
‘He arranged with Saloum to lead you away. You were not to follow him. You were to be led to the caravan terminus, where you would find gold enough.’ It was Gelis.
‘That is so?’ Nicholas said. He was looking at Saloum.
‘That is so,’ Saloum answered, through stiff and whistling lips. His gaze, clear as Godscalc’s, rested on Nicholas. ‘He has taken Doria to his death, but he will not lure you on the same path. He said what you said. He made you no promises. He told you he would do as he chose when the time came.’
‘But how will he escape?’ Nicholas said. ‘It is death to show strangers the gold. If the miners don’t, Doria will kill him.’
Saloum’s gaze didn’t alter. He said, ‘I am to tell you that you must forgive him.’
‘You were to tell me?’ Nicholas said.
And Saloum said, ‘He thought you would find out, but hoped it would be too late, as it is. He wished you to know that the source of the gold is a secret that he would not betray, even to you, whom he loves. He has not taken the Genoese there, and would not take you. They have gone to the place of silent trading.’
‘Where they will be killed?’ Nicholas said. ‘But so will Lopez. Saloum, so will Lopez.’
‘You cannot help him,’ said Saloum. ‘He does not want to be helped. And you could not get there in time.’
The silence this time was a long one. Then Nicholas said, ‘So what does he want?’
Saloum rose and, stepping across, took the place of submission before Nicholas. He said, ‘Out of love, he would have you go to the terminus. I will take you. It is where the caravans come; it is on the way to your great Prester John; it will bring you, he says, what your heart and your soul both have need of. It is far, but we shall set out tomorrow. It is called Timbuktu.’
Gelis listened, and Bel beside her said nothing. Nicholas said, ‘Jorge will not go.’ A dimple appeared, out of his distraction. ‘I should have to gag him.’
He was gagged already, Gelis suspected, and bound as well, in some corner known to Nicholas. Saloum said, ‘Perhaps I could persuade him?’
Nicholas frowned. ‘Why not?’ Gelis asked. ‘Saloum persuaded me. Send him over to tell Jorge the truth. Saloum doesn’t know the source of the gold, but can take us to where we can buy it. Isn’t that so?’
‘That is true,’ Saloum said. ‘By all I hold sacred.’
‘Then send Saloum over,’ said Gelis. ‘Get them reconciled. You can’t keep Jorge tied up for ever. Let them talk on their own, if they want to. Then you can free Jorge and announce changed plans tomorrow. How long a journey is it to this depot?’
‘To Timbuktu?’ said Saloum painfully. ‘From here, senhorinha, three to four weeks at the most.’
‘Did you know that?’ Gelis said.
‘No,’ said Nicholas.
‘And if we had gone direct?’
Saloum answered. ‘Senhorinha, I have brought you the easiest way, if the slowest. It was what I was told.’
She said nothing. Nicholas left, taking Saloum, and no one returned. Diniz came, bringing gazelle meat and palm wine and maize cakes, but didn’t stay long; even his bright black eyes had deep circles beneath them. Gelis wondered where he would call next. Since no one appeared, they lay on their straw without speaking, and presently Bel’s gentle snore filled the air. Gelis lay for a while, and then slept.
They were awakened by movement and voices, then by shouting, and the clatter of loading. Someone rapped on a post of their cabin, and Gelis took Bel’s cloak and pushed back the matting. Nicholas stood there, the sky lightening behind him. He said, ‘Jorge has gone on without us, and so have five crewmen and Diniz. I have to follow. I’ll take Vito with me.’
‘Diniz has left you for Jorge!’ said Gelis. ‘Why? Where are they going?’
‘To the silent market,’ said Nicholas. ‘They know how to get there. Damn them, they’ve stolen the donkeys.’
‘Saloum went with them?’ she said.
‘No. I kept him with me to prevent it. But he had already given Jorge all the directions.’
‘He wanted Jorge dead,’ Gelis said.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘Do you want to beat him for it?’
Chapter 25
THE VILLAGE OWNED a single camel, which Nicholas bought for a sackload of cowrie shells. He mounted with unthinking ease, as if he had done it many times before, and had to lean to help Vito behind him. Godscalc watched, hastily dressed, with Gelis and Bel at his side. They were all that remained, but for Saloum. Gelis went to Saloum and said, ‘Are you satisfied?’
Yesterday, he had been in pain. Now he looked ill. He said, in his stumbling Portuguese, ‘Senhorinha, they were crazy for gold. They would have stopped at nothing to learn where the market was. Your lord also said he could not tie up the senhor for ever.’
Gelis said, ‘It is not the senhor who concerns us. It is the boy Diniz, and the lord Niccolò who has now gone to retrieve him. You have told him the way?’
‘Yes, senhorinha,’ said Saloum.
‘Then take us the same way,’ said Gelis. ‘We have weapons. However slow we may be, we can surely help somehow. Then take us on to your caravanserai, where the camel-trains come from the desert. You must be useful for something.’
They didn’t speak on that morning’s journey. Tied like puddings, their worldly goods paraded before them, borne on the heads of six men from the village. Saloum chose the way, and Godscalc and Bel walked behind Gelis.
At mid-morning, with the land shimmering yellow before them, they made a halt on a patch of harsh grass below the dusty leaves of a group of acacias. Godscalc said, ‘Spare them all a thought. The boy Filipe is with them.’
‘He needn’t have been,’ Gelis said.
‘That is harsh,’ Godscalc said. ‘But Diniz need not have gone, either.’
‘It was for his mother,’ said Bel.
‘And perhaps he was encouraged,’ said Gelis. ‘It would suit many people if Diniz didn’t return.’
‘You think,’ said Godscalc, ‘that Nicholas has gone to kill him? With Vito as witness?’
‘I didn’t say so,’ said Gelis. Saloum was praying, his brow touching the ground, his torn and swollen face darkened with pressure. She was not sorry for what he was suffering. Unrefreshed, they got up and went on.
They saw the camel first, and then the red hair of Vito, and only later that there was someone lying prone in the shade, with Nicholas on one knee beside him. Vito greeted them with joy and relief. ‘It’s the padre! The lot of them!’
‘Be quiet,’ Nicholas said. The man lying beneath him looked round.
It was Diniz, his face hollow with pain. ‘You shouldn’t,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’
‘But how useful that they have,’ Nicholas said. ‘Forward the doctors. We are not making too much noise at present, because Jorge’s men think that they’ve left Diniz to die, and we’d like them to go on thinking it.’
‘Where, my hinny?’ said Bel. She knelt, her own face paler than usual.
‘A crossbow bolt in the shoulder, and a lot of good blood leaked away. A falling-out among thieves.’
‘Thieves!’ croaked Diniz. ‘They’re madmen! They’ve gone crazy for gold!’
‘They talked,’ said Nicholas, ‘Of going back and torturing Saloum, it appears. They thought he’d misled them, and they believed he really did know the way to the mines.’
‘I did mislead them,’ said Saloum. ‘The silent market is not where I told them.’
Diniz wriggled in Godscalc’s arms. He was breathless. ‘Well,
’ he said, ‘they know where it is now. They caught a man and began to force him to tell them. That’s when I told them to stop, and the little bastard – and Filipe shot me.’
‘You’ll get your reward,’ Godscalc said. ‘Although it may not feel like it at the moment. Nicholas, will Jorge be in danger?’
Nicholas was looking at Saloum. ‘You misled me, too,’ he said. ‘You knew …’
‘I knew you were not only concerned for the boy. But I chose to give you the boy,’ said Saloum. ‘Had I not, you would have missed him.’
‘And now?’ Nicholas said.
‘Oh, now, if you wish,’ said Saloum, ‘I shall take you to the silent market. I have kept my promise. You are too late for Doria and Lopez. If you wish to rescue these Portuguese murderers, I leave the matter to Allah.’
The silent trade known to the Carthaginians had many places of concourse, but all of them depended, as did this one, on rivers. The salt came by boat, grey-white slabs scribbled over with charms, and still corded in packs as when it crossed the Sahara. The gold came from Wangara, brought on foot over many days’ travelling. The salt was left, and the signal fires lit, and in time the gold would be found placed beside it. Then the invisible bartering would begin.
Jorge da Silves never reached it. The hunched, naked clusters of vultures caused Saloum to stop, a glance of warning at Nicholas, and the trudging procession came to a halt, the porters dropping their loads, the camel resting, that carried Bel and Diniz. The object, when they found it, might have been some half-eaten kill of the wild, but was not. The death had been merciful. Jorge, the acolyte of the Order of Christ, had been killed by the soft leaden ball of a hackbut.
‘His own men,’ Diniz remarked, having forced the information from Godscalc, returning.