‘It was of course a hurried affair. And once we have had it checked, the figure in your hand could well be revised.’
‘Upwards,’ said Harry coldly.
‘As you so rightly point out, Signor Ludlow, gold, in times of trouble, tends to increase in value. And we do live in troubled times.’
Giacomo Guistiani smiled, and indicated that the Ludlow brothers should be seated. James declined, taking the opportunity to get a closer look at a large painting which dominated the wall above the mantelpiece. It was of Venice, Genoa’s great commercial rival. James peered closely, looking not just at the content, but at the brushwork and colouring.
‘Canaletto?’ he said, without turning round.
‘Security,’ said Alfredo dismissively. ‘For a loan to the Pope.’
Giacomo was looking at James’s back. ‘These funds, gentlemen. Am I to understand that they are for the purchase of works of art?’
James shot a glance at Harry before speaking, eyebrows raised. His brother nodded, smiling. ‘A proportion of the funds could be used for that purpose.’
‘Ah. Admiral Doria mentioned that you wish to purchase a ship.’
Giacomo’s brow creased, leaving no doubt that he regarded such an act as unwise. ‘The harbour is full of such vessels, and one wonders if there is really enough profit to sustain them all, let alone the hands to crew them. I believe the situation in Livorno is even worse. In terms of investments, we could offer ventures with a higher potential return. For instance, we have one gentleman waiting to see us who needs to dispose of a cargo of alum. Given that his need for funds is acute, and the shipment is due at any time, it would seem a better use for part of these funds than privateering.’
‘Or art?’ asked James, finally sitting down.
‘Who knows, Signor, with war in the offing, if works of art are a good investment,’ said Alfredo mournfully.
‘I don’t see them in financial terms,’ said James.
‘Alas, we are bankers. Aesthetic values are a luxury we can ill afford.’
‘Then all these works of art are pledges?’
Giacomo answered. ‘No, Signor. Some of them are, indeed ours.’
‘So you do collect?’
‘Of course. But some of those you see here have come by default. While they afford great pleasure, the method of their acquisition does not.’
James favoured them both with a slim smile. ‘I imagine that my brother has a similar attitude to investments in cargoes of alum. But if you feel that you’re unable to assist …’
‘Please, Signor Ludlow,’ said the older Guistiani, hand held high to stop James. ‘It is no part of our duties to direct our clients. If you wish to purchase a painting, or a sculpture, so be it. We will happily do all in our power to introduce you to those who have artefacts to sell. As for a ship, then there is also someone in the next room who has a ship available.’
Harry’s attention had wandered at all this talk of art. But the mention of a ship brought him back into the conversation. ‘It would have to be the right sort of craft.’
‘I think I can guarantee that. The price, however, will be high, since it has just come out of the dockyard after an extensive refit.’
‘And commissions?’ asked Harry, his caution doubled by the previous chicanery with the gold.
‘They fall upon the vendor,’ said Alfredo. ‘The ship would seem perfect for the task you have in mind, though I cannot say that encouraging someone to prey on cargo vessels is something I would normally engage in.’
‘Rest assured, Signor Guistiani, the ships of Genoa will be entirely safe.’
‘Would that all your fellow countrymen showed equal restraint,’ said Giacomo sourly.
Harry wondered if he was referring to Bartholomew. Was that how they made their money, preying on Genoese ships, like a parasite on a host body? He would ask, perhaps, when he knew this man better.
‘I know of fellow countrymen of mine who would rather you didn’t trade with their enemies.’
Giacomo smiled. ‘Enemies, Signor? The only enemies we have are usury and poverty.’
There was an unmistakable trace of eagerness in Harry’s tone as he spoke again. ‘I would like to meet this shipowner.’
‘Then please come this way,’ said Giacomo.
Alfredo Guistiani returned to his desk, content to leave his brother to carry out the task while he got on with the business of running the various family interests. Again all the heads turned as the doors opened, but this time, instead of patent uninterest, the crowd of people looked towards the Ludlows eagerly, their status obviously enhanced by the presence of one of the banking brothers. Giacomo led them through the crowd, ignoring the keen and occasionally desperate looks of most of those he passed. He paused quite deliberately by the tall Frenchman, forcing Harry and James to stop.
‘Mr Ludlow,’ said Giacomo. ‘Allow me to name Monsieur Tilly, the French chargé d’affaires to the Republic of Genoa.’
The man bowed slightly as Guistiani introduced them. Harry was struck by the lack of expression, even in the man’s eyes. He had the feeling he was looking at someone who harboured a great deal of passion, but took great care to keep it in check. The fat cardinal was close by, yet it was this black-clad figure who looked more like a priest. Harry bowed in return and they passed on.
‘A neat way to underscore the utter neutrality of a man of commerce,’ said James quietly.
‘No wonder Hood is worried about this place,’ replied Harry, earning a frown from his brother.
A knot of gaudily dressed men, gathered round a chaise, parted to let them through, and Harry was startled to see a very beautiful girl, who could not have yet reached full maturity, sitting on the couch. Surprised, for this was definitely a salon for gentlemen only. A place of business, not society. And surely no place for such an innocent-looking creature.
Giacomo stopped before her, and she smiled engagingly as he bowed over her raised hand. But it was the man sitting next to her that he addressed. A small man, somewhat wizened, though not by age. His skin seemed translucent, stretched tight over prominent cheekbones and a small sharp nose, and he leant forward, both bony hands on his cane, staring straight ahead, as Giacomo Guistiani introduced them.
‘Gentlemen, allow me to name the Conte Alfonso di Toraglia and his wife,’ he said, turning back to Harry and James, who were both staring with open admiration at the young girl. Of medium height, she was slim and graceful. Her jet-black hair was piled high on top of her head in a mass of curls, fixed by a flashing jewelled clasp in the manner that had become fashionable in Paris, after the wildest excesses of the puritan revolution had been succeeded by the more corrupt and worldly regime of the Directory. Likewise her gown, cut low and loosely worn, yet made of a material designed to enhance the appearance of a woman’s natural figure.
Her skin was pale and utterly unblemished, and she had used only the lightest dusting of powder. Full lips, with a slight, ingenuous smile showing even teeth, and huge black eyes. She was returning their fixed look with one of deep curiosity. They started guiltily, in unison, at such a breach of manners, which would have been rude if the girl was this man’s daughter, but unforgivable to his wife. But the count seemed oblivious of the attention being paid to her. It was only when he failed to look at them as they mumbled their greetings that both brothers realised he was blind.
‘Forgive me if I don’t stand up,’ he said. His voice was deep and rasping, yet warm and friendly. ‘But I cannot do so without assistance, and it would be too much to put my friends to such trouble.’
‘If you gentlemen would forgive us,’ said Giacomo to those friends, ‘we have some business to discuss.’
With murmured agreement the men who had been crowded round the couple drifted away. Servants appeared with three chairs, and they placed a small table bearing refreshments between them and the chaise. With the chairs on one side of the circle, and that chaise on the other, they had created an island in the middle of the
room, an island the others present were careful to respect. No one came within ten feet of them.
‘Now, Alfonso. These two gentlemen wish to discuss with you the purchase of that useless hulk of a barque you have sitting idly in the harbour.’
The count smiled. It was a warm expression for all that it was thin and weak. The countess laughed, flashing her teeth and her eyes, with the candlelight from the overhead chandeliers catching the sparkle from the jewellery in her hair. Underneath the fine blue silk of the dress her breasts moved, and Harry looked quickly at his brother to avoid staring, only to find himself looking right into his eyes. James made a slight tutting sound to convey his disapproval, before turning to examine the countess himself.
‘Permit me to say, Countess, that I will find it impossible to conduct any business,’ he said. ‘Why, I am quite dazzled by your beauty.’
The girl dropped her head, an attractive blush colouring her checks. Everyone else’s expression became fixed. The count’s smile, now devoid of warmth, looked ghoulish. Harry did not know what to say. James could not be unaware that he had exceeded the bounds of good manners. But his brother lost none of his urbanity as he continued.
‘I say that, madam, as an artist, a modest painter of the human form, and I would welcome the opportunity to become well enough acquainted with you, and your husband, to seek permission to execute a portrait. I hope that my expression of such admiration, which is nothing but the plain truth, causes no offence. It is in the nature of an artist to enthuse openly when he encounters perfection.’
Harry spoke quickly. ‘My brother would be too modest to say that, in England, he is quite highly regarded.’
The fixed expressions had already relaxed, and the countess was laughing. Harry’s attempt to help was superfluous. James had deftly turned his apparent gaffe into an acceptable compliment. Harry felt a slight pang of jealousy. Was it because his brother could so easily manage such a verbal trick, something he could never achieve? Or was it because he realised that James would by exploiting his artistic talents get close to this girl?
The count reached out at the sound of her laughter, waving his hand uncertainly until his young wife took it. He squeezed affectionately, a gesture that the girl readily responded to.
Her low voice, warm and enchanting when she spoke, did nothing to diminish her. ‘What am I to say to such a raft of compliments, Signor?’
‘Only that they are inadequate, madam,’ said James.
The count squeezed his wife’s hand again, and sought to bring the conversation back onto the original subject. ‘Giacomo thinks you know nothing of ships, my love, but he’s very wrong.’
Guistiani bowed his head, smiling. The countess looked first at him, then at Harry. She laughed again, and Harry realised that he had a sort of inane grin on his face.
The fan in her hand shot open and she held it up, as if to share a secret with the count, but her words were clearly audible. ‘No he doesn’t, Alfonso. He’s just teasing.’
James spoke, not seeking to disguise the tone of heightened amazement in his voice. ‘You combine naval architecture with such beauty, madam. Truly, this is marvellous, and surely most uncommon.’
‘She is my eyes, gentlemen,’ said the count. He was looking at a point between the Ludlows. ‘Were it not for my dear Leila, I should be a pauper.’ He lifted his stick and pointed it into thin air. ‘People like Giacomo here would fleece me …’
‘Nonsense, Alfonso,’ said the banker.
The count wasn’t really smiling as he continued, though the words had a humorous ring. ‘Never trust a banker, gentlemen, for they never fail as regularly as their clients.’
‘That, Alfonso, is because they rarely gamble. Would that all our customers showed such probity.’
The countess addressed James directly, referring to his earlier question. ‘I know the value of ships, Signor. I have no need of anything else.’
The count had not finished his attack on the banking fraternity. ‘You need to have a care when dealing with the house of Guistiani.’
‘Come, Alfonso. Giacomo is very patient with me. He goes to no end of trouble to explain things.’
‘Madam,’ said James gallantly. ‘The patience of Job would be as nothing to the attention you deserve.’
James’s sally, and the enthusiasm of his delivery, was perhaps a shade too gallant on such short acquaintance. It took the smile off the count’s face again, but it had his wife hurriedly putting the fan over her mouth to hide a smile. Because of that, or merely because they were now talking business, there was none of the jovial, joking tone of earlier when the count spoke. ‘Am I to understand that you wish to purchase the Principessa?’
Harry sat forward, glad to get back into the conversation.
‘We have yet to see the ship, Count. It’s too early to say that we wish to purchase her.’
‘Oh, she is a fine ship, sir,’ said the countess. ‘Dry and weatherly is the expression I have heard my husband use. And she is newly out of the dock with her bottom recoppered. She will show a clean pair of heels to any other barque in the Ligurian Sea.’
The girl spoke with conviction, but her words had the air of a rehearsed recitation.
‘If what you say is true, Countess, then the only obstacle to a bargain would be the price.’
Her husband cut in. ‘We mustn’t discuss that till you’ve looked it over.’ He turned his head half towards his wife. ‘Well, my dear. What do you think? Are these Inglese people we could do business with?’
She looked from Harry to James and back again, her beautiful face carrying an expression of mock doubt. Then, in a rather theatrical way, her face cleared, and she smiled. ‘I would say so, Alfonso. Most assuredly.’
‘Then Signor Ludlow, you have my permission to look over the ship.’
‘I would, of course, wish to take her to sea, sir.’
‘Very wise,’ said the count with a thin smile. ‘Though I cannot furnish you with a crew.’
‘I can muster a crew for a day’s sailing.’
‘You have a crew available?’
Harry spoke with some hesitation. ‘Not yet.’
Toraglia’s nose rose slightly and his expression seemed to show that he’d misread the reasons for Harry’s delayed response. ‘Never fear, Signor Ludlow. The words my wife used to describe the Principessa are nothing less than the truth. Once you’ve examined her you will be impatient to take her to sea. Send to me when you do and I’ll arrange for someone to go out with you. Guistiani here will direct you to my house, which is outside the old city walls.’
‘And if we decide to proceed with the purchase?’ said Harry, glancing at the banker sitting beside him.
It was now Toraglia’s turn to hesitate. When he did answer his voice was listless. ‘Then you may come back to my house to discuss the terms. And now, Giacomo, be so kind as to call my chair. I grow weary.’
They all stood and exchanged farewells. Then the countess led her husband out of the room.
James addressed Guistiani. ‘Did my brother say something to upset him?’
There was a slight crack in the banker’s voice as he replied. ‘There was a time when Count Toraglia owned a fleet. But this one was special. It was his first ship, the one he started with as a young man. To look at him now, you would not credit the man he was two years ago.’
The Ludlow brothers spent half an hour discussing the methods by which they could deposit and withdraw their funds. Giacomo Guistiani walked beside James as he escorted them out of the building, explaining the provenance of the frescos in the outer apartment.
‘The artist was Perin del Vaga.’
‘It is the first work of his I’ve ever seen,’ said James, peering closely and touching the colourful surface lightly with his fingertips. ‘Painted in the sixteenth century, was it not?’
Guistiani nodded as James continued. ‘I am not overly familiar with Genoese artists.’
‘Del Vaga was a Florentine.’
&nb
sp; James smiled knowingly. ‘A contemporary of Michelangelo.’
‘There are further examples of his art at the Doria Palace at Fassalo. Indeed, many fine painters and sculptors have helped to decorate our palazzos. If you are in the market to buy, and you’re interested in local artists, they also have some interesting sculptures by the Schiaffinos, father and son, which I believe are for sale. If you wish I can arrange a visit.’
‘I long to see some works by Magnasco. He was a native of Genoa, was he not?’
‘Indeed. But there are no great collections. His works tend to be scattered. But I’m sure we can arrange some examples for you to view.’
‘I’m always happy to view.’
Guistiani laughed. ‘Then you are in for a busy time, Signor Ludlow. Genoa does not bow the knee to any other state where art is concerned.’
Harry had listened to these exchanges, all the while consumed with impatience at all this talk of art and artists, while his whole being was taken up with his own cares. ‘Let us look at ships first, for all love.’
James turned and favoured his brother with a wicked grin.
‘Don’t feel excluded, Harry. The Hollander Cornelius de Wael lived here for fifty years. He was contemporary to Rubens and much praised for his seascapes. There must be some fine examples of his marine works about. You, especially, will esteem him. He was excellent at painting battles.’
Harry refused to respond to this teasing remark. It was Giacomo Guistiani who spoke. ‘That furnishes me with a thought. It would perhaps be an idea to commission a painting of the Principessa for Count Toraglia before it is sold. Who knows, with God’s help, he may recover his sight.’
‘You’ve stated more than once that he’s particularly attached to it,’ said James, fixing the banker with a quizzical look.
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