David Liss - The Coffee Trader

“Merciful Christ,” Alferonda shouted. “You’re in love.”

“Alonzo, you’re no more than a gossipy grandmother with a beard. Now, if you’re done inventing tales, I’ve business to tend to.”

“Ah, his other love, the Dutch widow,” Alferonda said. “I understand your haste, Lienzo. I would surely rebuff myself for her sake.”

Geertruid made her way through the crowd and smiled at Miguel as though she were hosting him at her own table. Miguel winced. Somehow he did not like the idea of introducing Geertruid to Alferonda; one illicit presence ought not to consort with another. “Good day, senhor,” he said, and started to pull away.

“Ho, ho!” Alferonda shouted after them. “Are you not going to introduce me to this lady?” He pranced forward to stand by Geertruid’s side. In a sweeping move, he lifted his wide hat from his head and bowed deeply. “Alonzo Alferonda at your service, madam. Should you find yourself in need of any assistance a gentleman can provide, I hope you will do no more than to summon your humble servant.”

“I thank you.” She smiled warmly.

“I’m sure the lady will sleep better tonight for having had the offer,” Miguel said, pulling her away.

“I should love to know more of her sleeping,” Alferonda shouted, but he didn’t follow.

“What charming friends you have,” she said as they took a seat. If she felt any embarrassment about her revelation of the previous night at the Brewers’ Guild feast, she did not show it.

“None more so than you.” He looked across the tavern and saw that Alferonda had left.

Geertruid took a small pipe from a leather sack and began to stuff it with tobacco. “Now,” she said, “on to business. Have you looked into getting our money returned?”

Miguel could hardly believe her. “I have hardly had time to tend to that matter. Have you no questions of how I fared before the council?”

She lit her pipe with the flame of the oil lamp. “I am sure you prevailed. I have faith in you. And you would not be in such good spirits had you not won the day. Now, on to the matter of my investments.”

Miguel sighed, angry that she was souring his victory with this peevishness about money. Why had he ever involved himself with this Dutchwoman with her secrets and stolen capital?

“I know we agreed to wait two weeks,” she told him, “but if you have no solution to our Iberian problems, we must get the money returned.”

Miguel refused to show his concern. “Madam, where is your adventurous spirit? I begin to suspect that you would rather see your money returned than you would the fortune it will bring you. You must have faith that I will sort out these small difficulties.”

“I don’t believe you will sort them out.” She shook her head slowly. With her face turned downward and her hair dangling just over her eyes, she looked like a mournful Madonna in a painting. Then she lifted her gaze and grinned. “I don’t believe you will sort them out,” she explained, “because I, silly woman that I am, have found our solution.”

Too much had happened in one day, and Miguel’s head had begun to ache. He put one hand to his brow. “I don’t understand you,” he moaned.

“Did I not love you so well, I would demand another five percent for doing your work, but I do love you, and we’ll let the matter pass. As they say, the good farmer makes his own rain. So while you were playing cat and bird with your foolish council, I found an agent of my own to work for our cause in Iberia.”

“You? You have sent an agent into the most pernicious nation on earth? Where did you find this person? How can we be certain he won’t betray us?”

“You needn’t fear.” She puffed on her pipe with obvious satisfaction. “I found him through my lawyer in Antwerp, a city, you know, that retains many ties to Spain. I’m assured he can be trusted with my very life.”

“Your life is in no danger, but you had better hope he can be entrusted with your wealth. If the Inquisition suspects he is a Jew’s agent, he’ll be tortured until he reveals all.”

“That’s the very beauty of it. He has no knowledge that he works for a Jew, only that he works for a delightful Amsterdam widow. He can’t betray what he doesn’t know, and his motions shall attract no suspicion, for even in his own mind he does nothing worthy of notice.”

She had been reckless to embark upon this plan without consulting him, but he could find no fault with her actions. Only a moment ago he had lamented his connection with her, but now he recalled well why he so loved this remarkable woman.

“You trust this man?”

“I’ve never seen him, but I trust my lawyer, and he says we may depend on him.”

“And what are his instructions?”

“The same as you have given the others.” She licked her lips slowly, as though paused in thought. “To secure agents in Lisbon, Oporto, and Madrid -men who will do our bidding to the letter, though in this case it will only be my bidding. These agents are to await my instructions and then purchase as directed at a particular time and place.” She studied Miguel’s face, attempting to register his mood. “You cannot object.”

He could not object. And yet, somehow, he did. “Of course not. I am only surprised. We had discussed that these plans were to be mine.”

Geertruid placed a hand on top of his. “Don’t feel unmanned,” she said softly. “I promise I think you as great as ever, but an opportunity arose that I had to seize.”

He nodded. “You were right to do it.” He continued to nod. “Yes, this is all very good.” Perhaps he had reacted too strongly. What did it matter whence the agent came? Geertruid, for all her faults, was no fool. Miguel sighed, tasting the cheap tobacco in the air and savoring it as though it were perfume. A thought suddenly flashed before him, and he stood up very straight. “Do you realize what has happened to us this moment?”

“What has happened?” Geertruid asked. She lounged lazily upon the bench like a satisfied whore waiting to be paid.

“We faced one obstacle, the one thing that stood between us and our riches, and we have just removed that obstacle.”

Geertruid blinked. “We must still set our agents in place and count upon them to do our bidding,” she said, as though she understood not the first thing of his own scheme.

“A mere formality,” Miguel assured her. “The Exchange Bank may as well give us unlimited credit, for we are already wealthy. We now only wait for the rest of the world to recognize what we now know.” He leaned over to her and placed his lips as close to hers as he had dared since the night she had rejected his kiss. He didn’t care about the cherem or Joachim or even that he had lost her money. Those were only details, and details can be managed. “We are already wealthy, madam. We have already won.”

Though he had been avoiding the East Indies corner of the bourse all week, Miguel had only finished a small trade in pepper when he felt a hard tap on the shoulder. More like a jab. There stood an impatient and sheepish Isaiah Nunes.

“Nunes,” Miguel shouted cheerfully and grabbed his arm. “You are looking well, my friend. I trust all is on schedule with our little business and we may expect the shipment as planned?”

Nunes could never resist the blunt force of Miguel’s cheer. “Yes, all is on schedule. You know, the price of coffee has been going up, but I secured our price before the price rose. You will still pay shipment at thirty-three guilders per barrel.” He swallowed. “Some of us honor our words.”

Miguel ignored the jibe. “And the contents remain a secret.”

“Just as I promised. My agents have assured me that the crates will be marked as you have instructed. No one will know their true contents.” He looked away for an instant. “Now I must raise another matter.”