The Aviary Gate (18 page)

‘Does it really matter that much, whether the Sultan comes to inspect the boat or not?' John Sanderson, the eldest of the group, said to Paul.

‘Does it matter?' Paul levered himself on to the balustrade of the ship. ‘John, you think too much like a merchant. This isn't about currants, or cloth, or tin; or not for the moment anyway. The business of the embassy is all about theatre, about prestige. About being noticed. And the Sultan has noticed us all right. With the arrival of the
Hector
we've trumped them all. De Brèves and the rest may mock us for being a band of merchants, but the truth is, this is a simple enough game. And they hate us because we're better at it than they are.'

‘Paul's right,' Thomas Glover added. ‘All eyes are on the
Hector
, and that means on us. To my knowledge there hasn't been a ship yet to rival her in these waters.'

‘To rival a three-hundred-ton merchantman? I should think not,' William Aldridge said with pride.

‘And if we're to be their allies against Spain, what better symbol could there be of our Queen's strength, and the strength of England?' Glover said. ‘Now gentlemen, excuse us please. Paul, a word in your ear.'

Turning to Paul he drew him a little to one side, and the two men conferred together quickly.

‘Whatever happens, Paul, if the Sultan does comes to inspect the
Hector
today, we mustn't risk losing our advantage.'

‘My thoughts exactly. De Brèves and the Bailo will do anything they can to interfere with our cause, and prevent us trading freely.'

‘And that means the ambassador must present his credentials as soon as possible now – neither the Sultan nor the Grand Vizier will negotiate with us otherwise. What news of Dallam?'

‘His repairs to the Company's gift are nearly finished, or so he tells me.'

‘Then it must be impressed upon him that it is a matter of the utmost urgency to get it finished. Today, or failing that tomorrow if possible. Our Queen's gifts to the Sultan must be presented at the same time as the ambassador's credentials.'

‘Leave it to me, I'll talk to him again,' Paul said. ‘And here's another thought, Thomas. Until then we must make sure that Sir Henry lies as low as possible—'

‘You mean, the less mischief he is allowed to do between now and then, the better?' Glover said bluntly. ‘My thoughts exactly … oh, and speaking of which, I nearly forgot. He wants to see you right away. He's waiting down below in Captain Parson's cabin. It's about the Valide Sultan.'

‘The Valide?'

‘Yes,' Glover looked at Paul curiously, ‘it seems she has asked to see you again.'

‘Carew?' The ambassador, Sir Henry Lello, sounded as if he had just sucked on a lemon. ‘I don't think it will be necessary for him to accompany you, Pindar; most certainly not.'

‘No, sir, of course not. You are quite right.'

Paul and Sir Henry were talking together in the
Hector
's tiny captain's cabin at the rear of the ship. Sir Henry was pulling at his
beard, a trick he had adopted, Paul noticed, whenever he was nervous or upset.

‘Most irregular.'

‘Yes, sir. It'll be best to go quietly, I see that.'

‘Eh?'

‘Irregular. Sir. As you so rightly say.' Paul bowed respectfully. ‘And perhaps it is best to do these things quietly.'

He allowed a small pause whilst Lello digested this, then added carefully, ‘After all, the French ambassador's not going to be very happy about the fact that the Valide has asked for a private meeting with someone from your embassy.'

The seed took immediate root.

‘De Brèves?' Sir Henry Lello's eyes narrowed. ‘No, he certainly won't.' He brightened. ‘There's a thought, eh Pindar? Do things quietly you say, but I am not so sure. Perhaps we should make more of an … occasion … of it, what do you think?'

‘And risk annoying de Brèves?' Paul shook his head. ‘Let alone the Venetian Bailo. You know the Venetians think they've always had a special relationship with the Porte. Our informants tell us that they send gifts to the Valide and her women almost daily, thinking that it keeps up their influence with the Sultan. De Brèves might think we were trying something similar …'

‘But that's just it!' Lello said. ‘It's the very thing, don't you see, to make him think that!'

Paul gave a good impression of suddenly seeing the light.

‘But of course!' he said. ‘De Brèves will think this visit a deliberate strategy of yours. And that might distract them from our real strategy: to win over the Vizier, and renew the Capitulations.' He gave a small bow, whose tincture of irony was in no danger of being recognised by the ambassador. ‘A brilliant idea! Congratulations, sir.'

‘Hmm, hmm!' Lello gave vent to a little neigh which Paul recognised as the ambassador's infrequently aired laugh. ‘And what's more, Pindar, it won't cost us a penny! No bribes to the Vizier for this!'

‘A most statesmanlike thought,' Paul laughed in turn. ‘You were not made Her Majesty's ambassador for nothing, Excellency.'

‘Take care, Mr Pindar,' Sir Henry frowned at the mention of the Queen. ‘Her Majesty is munificence itself. She's only asked the
Company to pay for our gifts to the new Sultan – quite right too, in my opinion.'

And the cost of this entire embassy, my old friend Fog, Paul thought to himself, the very considerable expense of which must somehow now be dunned out of a company of London merchants even more parsimonious than the Queen herself. And who, if we don't succeed in this mission, are quite capable of making us pay for the whole enterprise ourselves.

‘What's this? Well, Henry, my love, what won't cost a penny?'

Without ceremony Lady Lello, the ambassador's wife, inserted herself into the tiny cabin. A stout woman, she wore an enormous goffered ruff, on which her small and apparently neckless visage rested uncertainly, for all the world (as Carew was fond of remarking) like a pig's head on a platter. When she saw Paul her small eyes widened, and her face crinkled into a benevolent smile. ‘And Secretary Pindar, too! Good morning to you.'

‘My Lady.' Paul made room for her as best he could in that tiny space.

‘Well, what news, Sir Henry?' Any physical movement more rapid than that of the stateliest pavane deprived Lady Lello of oxygen, and now she sat herself down, breathing heavily, and nestling the wheel of her farthingale more comfortably against her hips. ‘What will not cost us a penny?'

‘Pindar has been summoned to see the Valide again.'

‘Well!' Lady Lello's eyes widened again.

‘The Valide herself has sent for him,' Sir Henry added.

‘Well!' Lady Lello took out a piece of cambric which she kept tucked inside her sleeve and dabbed at her forehead. ‘Well!'

‘The news makes my wife quite speechless, Pindar,' the ambassador pointed out.

‘Shame, my Lady. Am I such a poor choice of emissary?' Pindar turned to her with a smile.

‘Indeed no, Mr Pindar!' The fleshy folds gathered on the top of Lady Lello's ruff quivered a little, like a pink syllabub. ‘But twice in as many days! Well, I say, isn't that very unusual? Mr Glover tells me that the Frankish envoys to the Porte must often wait many weeks before they are received by the Great Turk, and that the Vally Sultana is scarcely ever seen.'

‘That's just the point! It's a sign of great favour,' the ambassador said, rubbing his hands together. Tall, thin and unprepossessing, he did indeed merit his nickname ‘Fog'. His fingers were long and etiolated, like strange-looking tubers deprived of sunlight. ‘Pindar and I were just saying,' Lello leant towards his wife confidingly, ‘the French ambassador won't like this at all.'

‘Well, I say …' Lady Lello looked from one to the other.

‘It seems that the gift our Queen sent the Valide—'

‘—You mean the coach that Mr Pindar presented to her?'

‘The coach, yes,' Lello rubbed his hands again, and the skin of his fingers made a faint rasping noise, ‘well, quite simply, she is delighted with it. I'm told that she has already been seen riding in it. They say that the Sultan himself accompanied her. And the upshot of it all is she wants to see Secretary Pindar again. To send her thanks to the Queen, I shouldn't wonder.'

‘And she has asked for him in person – to thank him, I suppose. Well, Paul,' Lady Lello beamed at him, her little eyes all but disappearing into the soft fleshy folds of her face, ‘this is great news. We must hope the company's great box of whistles – when Dallam has mended it –' she gave a sceptical sniff, ‘will find similar favour. Now, Sir Henry, you must think of a suitable escort for Mr Pindar, you know. We cannot have them, de Brèves and the Bailly, I mean, making remarks.' She lowered her voice and leant towards Paul. ‘They speak slightingly of Sir Henry, I'm told, and of his being but a merchant, you know.'

‘The Bail-o, my love. The Venetian ambassador is called the Bail-o …'

But Lady Lello was not listening. ‘Perhaps Mr Consul Aldridge and Mr Secretary Glover should go with you, what do you think?'

‘Not so fast, my love,' Sir Henry interposed, glancing round at Paul who took up the ambassador's cue.

‘But as you know, my Lady, Secretary Glover and Consul Aldridge are needed here; there's much important business to attend to,' Paul said.

‘Then we must send you with someone who is not needed here, someone who is not important. Let's see: Ned Hall the coachman? No, too much of a yokel. Or our parson, the Reverend May? No, too timid.' Lady Lello widened her eyes suddenly, a small fleshy tree
stump struck by the lightning of inspiration. ‘Good Lord … Carew, of course! Your cook, John Carew. Mr Pindar, he must go with you. Isn't that right, Sir Henry?' Dimpling, she put up one small hand to pat her coiffed head, only to be impeded by the enormous ruff. ‘He does not have to say anything, only look the part,' his wife went on serenely. ‘He has a set of livery, I take it? And he's a good enough leg, I'll say that, even if he is more new-fangled than an ape in those Venetian fashions of his. What's wrong with good honest English cloth, that's what I always say, don't I, Sir Henry? Sir Henry—?'

She tried, despite her ruff, to look round at her husband, but he had already left the cabin.

‘He's gone to have a word with the men, I dare say,' she said comfortably. ‘They've sent word that the Great Man himself is coming to inspect the
Hector
. We must go up there ourselves, to pay our respects.'

She began to heave herself up, and Paul took her arm to help her. ‘Well,' she said, panting a little from the exertion, ‘it's a great day, it is indeed. And so pleasant to be back on board a ship. We were always quite comfortable aboard ships, you know.' She shook out her skirts, which gave off a strong odour of the camphor they had been wrapped in to preserve their stuff during long sea voyages. ‘Between ourselves, I prefer it here to that draughty great house, with all those plaguey janissaries cluttering up the place.'

Looking round the tiny cabin, Lady Lello gave a small nostalgic sigh. ‘A place for everything, and everything in its place, is what we always used to say. I sailed a great deal with Sir Henry when we were first married – and then later, too, you know, after my babes were taken.' She gazed out of the cabin window for a moment. ‘Well, well,' she patted Paul softly on the arm, ‘no good dwelling on the past. I know that you, of all people, understand that.'

‘Let me help you up the steps, Lady Lello,' Paul put his hand out to her gently. ‘The ambassador is waiting for us.'

‘Thank you.' She took his proffered arm. ‘That's a pretty bit of cloth, Mr Pindar, for all it is so very black.' She fingered the stuff of his cloak. ‘You look quite the Venetian noble, if I may say so,' she dimpled at him kindly, ‘but I can forgive that in you, Paul. I won't have them plague you about wearing sad colours. Sir Henry was to speak to you about it – the Turks don't like it, he says – but I said to
him, you leave that young man alone. He lost his lady love, drowned, they say.' She looked up at him, her old eyes as pale and blue as a distant horizon. ‘I told him, you leave that young man alone.'

‘Shall we go up, my lady?'

‘With your kind help, Mr Pindar, I think I shall manage these steps very well.' She took his arm. ‘I wanted to show you my new gown. What colour would you call it?'

‘We're calling this one “Drake's colour”, I believe.' Paul steered her up the wooden steps towards the poop deck. ‘Or sometimes “dragon's blood”.'

‘The names they think of these days: “lady blush” and “lion-tawny” and “popinjay-blue”. The Lord knows I've been around cloth long enough, but even I can't keep up.' Lady Lello struggled briefly to get her ruff through the narrow opening. ‘And how about “pimpillo”, I like that one, don't you? Pim-pillo …' Her voice faded a little, borne away on the snapping sea breeze, as she popped out finally on to the deck. ‘A kind of reddish-yellow, I'm told. I asked your Carew what colour his new cloak was,' she turned, puffing a little from her climb, to call back down the steps to Paul, ‘and you know how he answered me?'

‘No.'

‘Goose-turd-green! What next, Mr Pindar?'

‘What next indeed,' Paul echoed her faintly.

‘Apparently it is similar to “Dead Spaniard”. Was he jossing me, d'you think?'

‘He'll be a Dead Spaniard if he was doing anything of the sort,' Paul replied in his most jovial voice. ‘I'll make sure of that myself.'

On deck there was a sudden commotion.

‘The Grand Signor!'

‘Look sharp, the Great Man!'

‘Here comes the Grand Signor!'

Excusing himself from Lady Lello, Paul made his way to the side of the merchantman where Thomas Glover and the other Company merchants were standing together.