Best, in the interest of all parties, reported this later to Lymond. ‘He thinks you’re parcelling up Russia in English between you.’
Lymond was not in a tolerant mood. ‘Then if he can learn English in time, tell him that he is welcome to sit in on our discussions. But I am damned if I am going to conduct a major negotiation with an interpreter perched at my elbow. The terms of this treaty were made clear long ago by the merchants. All he has to do, for God’s sake, is let them rewrite it all in long words.’
The second treaty, they all knew, was a different matter. Long before this, Lymond had delivered to the Privy Council, with the greatest circumspection on both sides, his formal note indicating the Tsar’s wish to discuss with her Majesty’s Council the provision of certain skilled men and materials outwith the normal channels of commerce. Long before, he had placed the same note before the leading members of the Muscovy Company with a single question. If the Privy Council gave him licence to proceed, were the Company prepared to supply such items as he required and give them space on their ships, assuming a reasonable percentage of profit?
To this, the Company had agreed. Conditions had never been mentioned. A withdrawal of the Company’s privileges in Russia had never been threatened or even hinted at by Lymond. But the possibility was there, in the very fact that the Tsar had sent this man to negotiate. It was small wonder, the Company recognized wryly, that Osep Nepeja, merchant of Vologda, was uneasy.
So the official negotiators set out, most anxiously primed by the Company and bearing with them also, on the other side of the balance, all the concerted warnings of their fellows on the subject of the Crown’s present outlay and embarrassments, both fiscal and political; and the Crown’s commitments, apprehensions and expectations in all those areas which this inconvenient demand from the Tsar of Russia might affect.
Because of the secrecy of the matter, only Sir William Petre and the Bishop of Ely came to the house in Fenchurch Street for these talks, with a scrivener, who entered with them, and their servants, who waited below. And in the room where the Tsar’s envoy Mr Crawford greeted them was permitted only one other person: the owner of the house, Master John Dimmock. For although lion-hunter had been Ludovic d’Harcourt’s epithet for their host, he was much more than that. Now in his sixties, and older by ten years than the other two members of the commission, John Dimmock had spent the better part of the two previous reigns as royal agent on the Continent, with the care of buying provisions and levying soldiers. And the provisions he had been buying were the munitions of war. If the Queen’s Council were to decree that the Tsar should have what he asked for, Master John Dimmock was the man who would supply it. The house in Fenchurch Street had not been lightly chosen.
Nor were Petre of Oxford and Thirleby of Cambridge, both practised in civil and canon law; both experienced in negotiations at home and in embassies overseas also since the reign of King Henry. The French had complained of Sir William Petre during the haggling over Boulogne six years ago: We had gained the last two hundred thousand crowns without hostages, had it not been for that man who said nothing.
He said nothing now, listening to the man Crawford embark on his preamble. He had found him cordial, which was to be expected, and also a man of address, which he had been warned about. The exposition was brief and also lucid: it dealt with the geography of Russia and the nature of her government, with her income and her natural resources, and with the measures now being taken to lead the whole country forward to that prosperity which its states had once enjoyed before the incursion of the Tartars. It described explicitly the present threat to the nation’s security, and the steps the Voevoda Bolshoia had taken to counter them. It then proceeded to make the two obvious points on which the Russian case rested: that in order to trade successfully, Russia must have stability. And that in pushing the Tartars from her borders, she would be performing a service for the whole of Christendom, and particularly for those countries opposed to Turkey, who held the Tartars in vasselage.
Petre, who had a pain in his stomach, wished it was time to eat. However, so far, so good. Behind him he could hear the scrivener’s pen squeaking, and he hoped he had put down, and accurately, all the facts and figures Crawford had just given them. It was unusual, to say the least of it, to be quite so frank. Whether it was naiveté or the exact opposite, he was not yet quite sure. It was certainly an extremely large army, and well organized, so far as one could gather. Thirleby, beside him, said, ‘You are to be commended, Mr Crawford, on what you and the Tsar before you have achieved already. Two of your Tartar settlements have been disbanded, I gather, and you have already launched attacks on the third.’
‘It is the third which concerns us,’ Lymond said. ‘It is so placed, as I have said, that it is difficult for an army of any size to overwhelm it. On the other hand these Tartars can, and do, send raids up to and into Moscow itself. May I remind you also that they dwell on the borders of Turkey. Even if we exterminate the Crimean Tartars, Turkey is always a threat. More so now, when her attention is no longer occupied with the Persian wars. A Russia overrun by Turks, as Hungary was, is not something, I imagine, that England would favour, however great the distance between us.’
The Bishop said, ‘The Queen’s grace would indeed be desolate were such a thing to happen. Although, to be selfish, it would be pleasing to see Turkey occupied in something other than aiding our enemies the French.’
‘You must weigh that,’ Lymond said, ‘against the disadvantages should Turkey obtain a foothold in the Baltic.’ He did not pause, Petre noticed, to register the hit but proceeded in the same conversational tone. ‘I am under no illusions about your own difficulties here. Poland and Sweden have already lodged formal objections against any proposal to supply us with arms. The Tsar has made no secret in the past of his wish to win back the land on the west of his borders. There has already been fighting in Sweden. If Russia obtained a firmer hold on the Baltic through conquest, the Hanseatic towns would have cause to protest: Antwerp would be rightly disturbed.’
Sir William Petre removed his hand from the front of his doublet. ‘And so should we,’ he said dryly. ‘There would be no need for shipments from St Nicholas Bay if Russia were to begin trading directly through the Baltic.’
‘And this trade with Russia is important to you,’ Lymond said. ‘As, of course, it is to the Tsar. It is five years since the wool trade began to decline. We all know how the new discoveries have taken shipping away from the Baltic, and how your markets there are being affected also by war. Russia has given you a new outlet for trade and a new use for your ships since the fishing fleet dwindled. The Company will increase its fleet as it prospers, and hence the number of ships and trained seamen which the Queen may call on at need. The Navy, I am told, would not be displeased at the prospect. Already the Company is providing cheap cable and timber; it is patient in the matter of loans; it is financing exploration which may open Cathay before you, with promise of treasure far exceeding that of New Spain. And further, at this … confused station in the nation’s affairs, the success of the leading merchants in London would continue to support and uphold the Crown at a time when goodwill is perhaps as precious as money.’
‘I wonder,’ said Sir William Petre, ‘if I understand you aright. You desire the Queen’s grace, notwithstanding the protests of her neighbours, to provide you with the wherewithal to make war, or we forfeit our trade with you and have our explorations curtailed by the Tsar? It seems, whether he knows it or not, that your Tsar has the Golden Horde within his gates once again, throwing aside peace and prosperity for a mirage. If that is the case, sir, we have nothing more to say to one another.’ And he laid his hand on his papers.
Outside the door something clinked, as it might be a dish on a tray. Lymond said, ‘You must tell me, of course, if you wish to renounce your trading agreement, and we can at least avoid wasting your time or mine any longer. Mr Dimmock, is that your intention?’
The door opened and the smell o
f food entered the room. Mr Dimmock, remembering without surprise that he had informed Mr Crawford only yesterday of Sir William’s poor stomach and its need of constant replenishment, said, ‘It is not the Company’s intention, sir, but in these matters we must be ruled, as you know, by higher policy.’
‘Then,’ said Lymond, ‘perhaps, after a break for refreshment, we should consider what those matters of higher policy are.’
It was remarkable, Sir William thought, truly remarkable what a difference to the temper a morsel of food could bring about. He remembered the other day attending a long and devoted conference between the Queen and her Cardinal Pole, while still awaiting the Bull to confirm him in possession of all his monastery lands. The Queen had forgiven him, he now believed, the service he had performed for her father in suppressing the monasteries. It had left him with a good thirty-six thousand acres in Devonshire alone. But he still felt the knife in his stomach when he thought of the dangers.
Thirleby, on the other hand, had changed coat quite as often and appeared to feel nothing at all. His only great disappointment had been to miss the Lord Chancellorship when Gardiner died. The Queen had suggested it but King Philip, he knew, had objected. He wondered if the Tsar’s envoy knew that. He was extremely surprised to discover how much the fellow did know. It was usual for an envoy from one of the less worldly quarters of Europe to state his case and then reiterate it against all opposition, with whatever weight of threat or financial blandishment could be added, until one side or the other began to concede, and an adjusted agreement was somehow thrashed out. It always took a long time.
He did not think this was going to take a long time, because this fellow not only knew what he wanted: he had thought through the English objections. Disconcerting. Agreeable, even, since argument was one’s business. He thought of the patient hours with Nepeja and fully understood, even more than the Company, precisely why the Tsar of Russia had entrusted this errand to this man.
After the break, it was the English objections they began with. Petre let the Bishop take the lead, while he gazed around at the books. He thought he saw a De republica, but it couldn’t be. Pole had once spent two thousand gold pieces trying to trace that in Poland. He behaved, as he often did, as if he were not listening.
‘Since you speak of Sweden,’ said the Bishop of Ely, ‘you may well know the consequences of your fighting there last year. The harvest suffered. No Swedish corn has come to Brussels and bread has failed, so that no armies can be mustered. No men may gather anywhere until the new harvest is reaped, and wheat meal sold last winter, sir, at forty-six shillings the quarter, so that our women laid their newborn babes in the streets, unable to nurture them while you were sailing at your ease upon this embassy.’
‘I beg to say,’ said Lymond, ‘that I cannot recall standing in so many cornfields: perhaps some other conflicts took place in Holland and Brittany as well. Your point, however, is taken. And at this moment the Tsar should be receiving an ambassador from Sweden in his turn, suing for peace between our nations. Provided Russia is strong and firm, as she showed herself to be last summer, this peace will continue, and your corn will be safe. Meanwhile Sweden may upbraid you, but she cannot march upon you.’
‘She can, however, cancel her commercial treaties,’ Dimmock said.
‘It is unlikely, because they are to her advantage. But she may do so,’ agreed Lymond. ‘It is for you to decide how severe a blow this could be. It was a risk you also took, I imagine, when you launched your present trading agreement with Russia. It may reassure everyone to remember that Lithuania has no standing army and is unlikely to resort to force, particularly when it would mean depleting her Russian frontiers.’
It was time to interfere. ‘On the other hand,’ said Sir William Petre, ‘it may encourage an alliance between Poland and Lithuania and Livonia, and Livonia belongs to the Order of Teutonic Knights which have long been the special concern of the Emperor, and therefore of King Philip.’
‘Except,’ said Lymond, ‘that thirty years ago the Order’s Master repudiated the Pope and turned Lutheran. And I am told that both Poland and Lithuania are being pushed by the Czech Brethren towards Protestantism, while the Lithuanian lords have come to think Calvinism fashionable. It is not a fever which the Queen presumably would like to see spread. In fact, my Tsar extracted an undertaking three years ago from Livonia that they would make no alliance with Poland, and he is at present in a position to enforce it. He is not a friend, as you may know, to the Roman Church, but neither will he allow other faiths to spread within his borders.’
‘You have said that Russia is making a peace, on her own terms, with Sweden,’ Petre said. ‘You have said that, given arms, she can secure herself from attack from the Tartars and from the group of countries inclined to Protestantism on the west. You have not told us what the Tsar’s own ambitions are towards these last two groups. Do you expect us to believe that, given the chance, he will not force a way through Livonia into the Baltic? Or do you wish us to believe that, given the chance, he will send his armies, suitably fortified, into Turkey?’
One did not judge by question and answer. One judged by the tone of the voice and the speed of the breathing; by the unexpected move of a foot or the flick of an eyelid. Petre knew he was watched, and he watched in turn, and saw nothing but an excellent mind operating with perfect serenity. Lymond said, ‘Under no circumstances whatever, while I am Voevoda Bolshoia, will Russia send an army to Turkey. If you will think of what I have already told you, you will see that this is impossible, and if I were to promise it, I should be quite unworthy of my position, or else stupidly deceitful. We shall drive out the Tartars, and we shall destroy Turkish prestige and the supporting armies they send at the same time. But that is all I can promise. That, and the fact that we shall resist any invasion by Turkey to the last stone and the last man.
‘On the West, my answer is as plain as I can make it. These lands belonged to the Tsar. Their loss has meant the loss of an outlet which we sorely need. I cannot pretend that the Tsar has forgotten this, but he sees daily, with the return of your ships, how this loss may be repaired, or partly compensated for, by this new link by the north with your country. I am therefore empowered to give you, and therefore the three nations of Poland, Lithuania and Livonia, a guarantee. My tenure of office in Russia is to last for five years: I hope longer. But I shall promise you, here and now, that for these five years I shall not send an army or permit an army to be sent against any one of these three countries, provided that in their turn they make no move to attack me or the Tsar.’
There was a brief silence. Then Petre said, ‘Can you make such a promise? I have Master Chancellor’s report on this man. He is a fickle ruler, Mr Crawford. Were he to change his mind, I would not give a fig for your contract, for five years or indeed for five minutes.’
‘But,’ said Lymond, ‘I have the army.’
‘So long as you live,’ the Bishop said bluntly.
Lymond smiled. ‘It is another risk you must weigh in the balance. I can only say that, fully trained and appointed, this army under its junta will be capable, with or without me, of keeping its undertaking. And that you must consider that the life of the Tsar, in that country, is exposed to quite as much danger as mine.’
‘And after five years?’ John Dimmock said heavily.
‘After five years,’ Lymond said, ‘we should offend no one, because we should be self-supporting, and need no country’s help. You find it profitable to trade with us now, when we are undeveloped and backward. You will find it ten times as profitable, whatever other outlets we have, when we are thriving. You fear, perhaps, the rise of a new power in the east, where you already have troubles enough with the competing claims of the Empire and France, of the Pope and the German states and Turkey. I can only say that these will change: that the Emperor has abdicated and that the fate of the Empire is not at the moment secure: that Suleiman is old and Turkey may not always remain the power that she has been. The sec
ular power of the Pope is also in question. Affairs change; power shifts. You cannot stop it happening. And I should like you to believe that if you exercise your veto, and keep Muscovy in the backwater where she has fallen, it will not serve your immediate ends, and it may bring about an explosion out of her ignorance and poverty and resentment which your descendants will have cause to regret.’
The Bishop of Ely was unmoved by the thought of his descendants. ‘Should we send hackbuts and teachers to the Gold Coast, so that the natives may greet us in Latin when we go to buy pepper?’
It was a mistake. Lymond looked at Sir William Petre and Sir William heaved a brief sigh and said, ‘As I am sure Mr Crawford is aware, we sent shiploads of pikes and armour to the Gold Coast with Wyndham, only five years ago. It was less a matter of education, it must be said, than of securing our trade there against other competition.’
‘In spite of the complaints of Portugal,’ Lymond said. ‘Perhaps, Sir William, we have covered sufficient ground for one day. There is the list of men and materials which my Tsar would wish you to send him. The profit to the Muscovy Company will be comparable to the profit they would be prepared to accept on the highest grade of their cloth. I propose that a thousand pounds of corn powder should yield the same profit as one piece of double-grain velvet; and that the same amount of serpentine powder should equate to one piece of a pile and a half, the rates for the rest to be settled between us. I am at your disposal at any time: perhaps your secretary would advise me when you wish to continue the discussion.’
It was the kind of list Petre had expected, if a little more specific than he had hoped: 3,500 hackbuts; 1,000 pistolets; 500 lb matches; 100,000 lb saltpetre; 3,000 corselets; 2,000 morions; 3,000 iron caps; 8,000 lances; 9,000 lb corn powder; 60 cwt sulphur; 52 fodders of lead. And the trained men one would also expect: ironfounders and engineers and gunners, physicians and apothecaries, printers, mathematicians; shipwrights.
The Ringed Castle Page 57
