Pip Vaughan-Hughes - The Vault of bones

‘Nicholas Querini owns an island’ said Letice. They were the first words she had spoken to anyone – save a few mutterings to me, ill-tempered with fatigue – for she had slept her way across the Sea of Marmara and down through the Hellespont, and now that she had made her way on deck to join us for luncheon, we were out in the Aegean, with Lemnos far away to starboard and Tenedos behind us.

‘I’m sorry?' said James, looking at her in some amazement, or possibly discomfort, for although his sensual complexion made this seem unlikely, he was the shyer of the two Dominicans.

‘It is called Stampalia’ she went on, and I realised she was speaking Paris French, and well at that. 'Rich Venetians tend to have their own islands’ she explained, cutting herself a slice of salted ham. 'Querini has Stampalia, which lies to the south, near Naxos.'

'How interesting’ said Andrew, distractedly. He was attempting to eat a piece of dry and crumbling bread on which perched a tough sliver of ham while reading some official-looking document. Crumbs were showering over the parchment.

'And I was wondering if, perhaps, he is there’ she said primly, dabbing at her lips with her sleeve. With the holy relic.' The Dominicans looked up as one. 'How far is this Stampalia?' asked Andrew. 'Three or four days’ sail’ said Letice.

'Why would he not have carried his prize back to Venice?' I asked. James nodded in agreement.

‘I do not know, but I wonder… these seas are dangerous at this time of year, and the news in Constantinople, again and again, was of the Greek Emperors navy and their raids on the ships of the Latins. Perhaps he is holding court in his castle until spring comes. Or perhaps he has left the holy relic there under guard. In either case…'

'My dear daughter, you are not suggesting…' began James, a frown ploughing across his pink forehead.

'No, no, I am sure Mistress Letitia was not implying that we should abscond with the relic’ I said hurriedly. 'But…' and I stared hard at Letice as I spoke, 'if Messer Nicholas is at home, we will perhaps be able to treat with him there, and thus save us the long and uncertain passage to Venice.'

'I do not think that Querini has the authority to treat with us’ said Andrew kindly, a little as if he were addressing a child or perhaps a horse. I waited for Letice to bridle at his tone, but she merely smiled impassively. 'I have assumed, from what Master Petroc has told us, that Querini is merely acting as an agent for the Serene Republic of Venice, and that it is in Venice that we will conclude our business.'

'I do not know if that is actually true’I put in. 'That is, I assumed the same thing at first, but now… if he were an agent of the Doge, he would not have made off with Monsieur de Sol, or tried to kill me. De Sol is a resident of the Republic. He is on friendly terms with the Doges' palace.'

Well, then, I… how far is this Stampalia? Perhaps I will at least mention it to the good captain’ said Andrew, and returned to his battle with bread and ham. 'Good Brother Andrew, perhaps you can tell me how this matter is to be settled?' I said. That question had been preying upon my mind since first I had set foot aboard the Seynt Victor, and this seemed as good a time as any to broach it. For it seemed that, if Captain de Montalhac's company was to reap any reward from this ghastly mess, I would have to do the reaping. And indeed I seemed to hear the Captain's voice in my ear: 'Pay attention, Patch! Pay attention.'

The friar looked up again, crumbs flying, jaws working furiously upon a piece of pig gristle. 'It is a simple transaction,' he said at last, after a mighty swallow. 'Possession of the Crown is transferred to His Majesty Louis, depending upon its exchange for a gift, a token of gratitude, from the king to the emperor or empire.'

'Exactly! And the size of this putative gift was, I hazard, known by my master?'

'No,' said Andrew, wiping his greasy mouth with the back of his hand.

'Oh?' I said, surprised. This was not going to be easy, then.

'It had not been decided,' said Andrew. 'Has not, even yet. We were to adjust the magnitude of the gift to the needs, the requirements, of Baldwin de Courtenay. These needs, we hoped, we could estimate without putting His Majesty the Emperor to any embarrassing questions. As, now, the Crown is being held in surety for a loan, the gift, to my thinking, will be in the amount of said loan – for how better to reward Baldwin but to discharge him from onerous and shameful obligation?'

'Indeed. So…' I paused, my mind scurrying ahead to commissions and percentages. 'The mortgage imposed by Querini is in the sum of…' There was a sharp burst of pain in my lower shinbone. I looked around to see that Letice was glaring at me with her piercing eyes, the same docile smile upon her lips. She had kicked me smartly under the table.

'Querini's mortgage is the crux of the matter’ agreed Andrew, not noticing a thing. As soon as we find out what it is, we can send back to Paris and make arrangements. But it is to be assumed that we are concerned with a considerable sum – a very considerable sum indeed, to necessitate such a holy, an indeed priceless security. I would place the Crown's worth far above that of the whole empire, from what I have heard and seen of that!

'Quite so, quite so’ I said smoothly, placing my chin upon steepled fingers, something I had seen Gilles do. I felt like a rank impostor, but nonetheless we seemed, incredibly, to have come to the nub of the matter. And what sum is in your remit to… to disburse?' I enquired casually.

'Oh, good heavens!' cried Andrew. The piece of bread burst asunder in his fist, blasting crumbs everywhere. One caught in my eyebrow, and I spied another upon the ivory skin of Letice's neck. I bit my lip in frustration: I had gone too far. But no: Andrew was brushing his hands together and gazing at the clouds overhead, as if performing some kinetic prayer. I could see his great teeth. He was smiling.

'My dear son’ he said at last, tugging abstractedly at his earlobe, 'I cannot quite believe it myself, but I have the authority – and I tell you this only because you are now, to my mind, the successor of Monsieur de Sol…' he broke off and glanced at Letice. She stood up and dashed the breadcrumbs from her tunic front. 'I believe we need a little more wine’ she said brightly, taking up the jug and wandering off towards the stern.

An extremely well-bred young lady’ I murmured, sanctimoniously. The friar nodded his agreement.

'Indeed, yes’ he said. 'Most discreet, most discreet. Now…' he leaned forward until his mouth was inches from my ear. It is King Louis' wish that James and I give whatever is necessary to secure the Crown.'

Whatever necessary being…?' I could barely get the words out.

When I said that the Crown was worth more than the empire, I was not indulging in rhetoric,' said Andrew, softly. 'Louis is willing to present Baldwin with… with half the royal treasury of France!' he finished in a rush and regarded me, panting a little, as if he had relieved himself of a physical burden. And indeed he had, I thought. What could the kingdom of France be worth? I thought of the barber of King Midas, rushing out to bellow his secret to the bullrushes. Well, I would press on.

'My… my merciful Lord!' I squeaked, blinking in unfeigned shock. 'That could be no less than… than…'

'One hundred and fifty thousand golden livres,' hissed Andrew, in a rapture of release. 'There. It is told. I would have told Monsieur de Sol ere now, and so I am telling you.' 'And I shall tell no one,' I assured him.

Andrew stood up and rubbed his cheeks briskly, as if to force the blood back into them. You see what a dilemma James and I have been in?' he asked. I nodded.