A Turning Wind

By Jane Harlond

Book 2 in The Chosen Man Trilogy by award-winning historical crime writer J.G. Harlond
An ‘amazing story that simply blew me away’ – Readers’ Favorite 5* review
If you enjoy Wilbur Smith, you’ll love this tale.
Ludo da Portovenere, one time corsair, sometime merchant, secret agent of monarchs, servant of none.
From the trading colony of Goa to the royal courts of England and Spain, Ludo da Portovenere completes perilous secret commissions on his own terms and for his own reasons. But as these tasks bring him closer to personal success, Ludo is forced to confront secrets of his own.
While Ludo pursues a delicate mission for the English queen in the Spanish royal court, Alina, Baroness Metherall, faces new challenges, including what it means to be married to one person and love another.
Ultimately, Ludo and Alina must decide who they really are, and to what extent their shared past should influence their future.
“Ms. Harlond details a credible, intricate world of deals and alliances, threats and opportunities, uncertainty and trust, in which her hero, the wily Genoese merchant Ludo da Portovenere, must tread with extreme caution. Let's hear yet more of him!” Antoine Vanner, author of the Dawlish Chronicles series.
“Harlond's brilliantly realized portrait of the sea-trade in 17th century is a gem...Ludo is a great character with wit, intelligence and daring. Exploiting his position as an envoy between Charles I and the Spanish court results in a seafaring novel of danger and double-dealing. Highly recommended.” Deborah Swift, author of A Divided Inheritance

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penmore Press LLC
• Release date: Apr 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781946409416

Book preview

For Tim and Guy

The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.

—Ecclesiastes 1:6, King James Bible

Old Arab proverb

Do not tell all you know,

Do not do all you can,

Do not believe all you see,

Do not spend all you have.

Because

He who says too much,

He who does all he may,

He who believes all he sees,

He who spends all he has,

Very often

Says what is not wise,

Does what he ought not do,

Judges without thinking,

Spends more than his purse allows.

Characters—In Order of Appearance

Names marked with an * are recorded in history.

Ludo da Portovenere—Genoese rich-trade (silk and spice) merchant

Leonora Gasca Figaroa—widow and owner of spice business in Goa, India

Armando Cabrera Mendes—Leonora’s brother-in-law, Portuguese official of the Casa da Índia in Lisbon

Simón Gomes Solis—Portuguese official in Goa

Armando Duarte Solis y Solis—cousin to Simón Gomes

Toxo (Tosho)—Galician mariner, captain of the carrack La Magdalena

Javi—Galician mariner and brother-in-law of Toxo

Captain George Guthrie—captain of the galleon Tulip

José—cabin boy to Ludo on the Tulip

Marcos Alonso Almendro—Spanish owner of wine and spice business in Plymouth, England, one-time servant to Ludo

Joanna Almond—Marcos’s English wife

Edward Beale—Joanna’s father

Sophie Beale—Joanna’s mother

Queen Henrietta Maria*—Catholic wife of King Charles 1st of England

King Charles*—British king, currently in dispute with Parliament and the Scots

Rogelio—Roman cleric and Vatican agent belonging to the secret Black Order

Lord Dungetty—Lord Steward at the Palace of Whitehall

Alina—María de los Ángeles Santoña Gómez de Fulford, Baroness Metherall

Fanny—Alina’s English servant

Thomas Fulford, Baron of the County of Cornwall in England

Tomás—son of Alina and Thomas Fulford living at Crimphele, Cornwall

John Hawthorne—one-time English priest, now tutor to Tomás at Crimphele

Sir Arthur Hopton*—British Ambassador to the court of King Philip IV of Spain

Christopher (Kit) Windebank*—English secretary to Sir Arthur Hopton in Spain

King Philip IV of Spain*—Habsburg monarch and ruler of the Spanish Empire

Queen Isabel*—formerly Elisabeth Bourbon of France, daughter of Marie de Medici* and the late King Henry IV of France*, sister of Queen Henrietta Maria*

Conde de Pamanes—Alina’s father, an impoverished Spanish grandee

Diego Rodríguez da Silva Velázquez*—Spanish artist at the court of Philip IV

Luis Méndez de Haro y Guzmán, Marqués de Carpio*—nephew of Count-Duke de Olivares and future chief minister of Spain

Inés de Zúñiga y Velasco, Countess-Duchess de Olivares*—wife of Count-Duke de Olivares and governess to Spanish royal children

Paco—farrier and Kit Windebank’s father-in-law

María de los Milagros García González—a Spanish woman, bodyguard to Alina

Brother Caritas– a Spanish Franciscan Grey Friar living in voluntary exile on the isle of Ibiza

Doña Juana—Brother Caritas’s landlady

Paulo Pannini—childhood friend of Ludo in Portovenere—deceased

Rabbi Rafael—elderly Chueta rabbi living in Ibiza

Duke of Braganza*– pretender to the Portuguese throne

Luisa de Guzmán—Duchess of Braganza*

Murat Reis*—born Jan Janszoon, a Dutchman who ‘turned Turk’ and became a legendary pirate captain

Lysbeth*—daughter of Jan Janszoon (otherwise known as Murat Reis)

Padre Bernabé—Spanish missionary priest

Part One

Crossing Oceans

Ship

Chapter 1

Goa, India, September 1639

It was a ramshackle affair for such valuable goods. A makeshift marketplace created out of crimson and brightly striped awnings. Lengths of scarlet, orange, turquoise, purple and blue formed curtains between trees, sheltering the splendid commodities from the late summer sun. Vendors were still laying out their wares when Ludo arrived: gems and trinkets in copper and gold, ivory combs and bangles, shimmering sari silk and embroidered fringed shawls, all transported from one coast of India to the other on heads and shoulders. The costly cargo had passed through the famous alluvial diamond valleys of Golconda, the human caravan collecting ever more precious gems along the way—a cargo now watched over by guards with arm muscles that rippled ‘beware’ and vicious knives tucked in wide belts.

Curious, colourful, magnificent... everything Ludo had hoped for. He was delighted. Yet, wandering among the displays, he began to wonder why he had come—what, apart from uncut diamonds, he was actually seeking.

As he finished his first circuit, a white bullock ambled in pulling a cart laden with clay flagons. Happily over-paying an urchin for a drink of water then returning the cup, Ludo strolled back among the folding tables, trestles and floor mats, this time stopping to examine a miniature chest of drawers decorated with inlaid mother-of-pearl for women’s trinkets. It was pretty, but no, not special enough to add to his ship’s cargo. Moving on, he encountered an awkward Englishman dabbing at his forehead with a sodden handkerchief. The pink-faced sahib was struggling to keep up with an Indian agent’s heavily accented sales patter without losing his cherished dignity.

Let me tell you how they are found, the Goan agent was saying as he ran a hand seductively through a wide lacquered bowl of uncut diamonds. When it rains, water rushes down the mountains, taking these precious stones with it and leaving them trapped at the bottom of gorges and in caverns. When the dry season comes and there is not one drop of water to be had, when the heat is enough to kill an Englishman as he walks from his door, brave men risk their lives to collect the stones. But they must go where wild serpents thrive. Venomous serpents and vast—serpents that crush and swallow men whole...

Ludo shuddered along with the Englishman: snakes were another of the reasons he had made no attempt to travel inland during his stay in Goa.

". . .but these diamonds are precious not only for the means by which they are obtained, not only for their special rarity, but for their quality. Look, sahib, see how fine they are, how they bring light into our lives. Each one is perfect, flawless..."

The Englishman put a forefinger in the bowl and peered at a stone the size of a sparrow’s egg, then at another in the shape and form of a woman’s fingernail. The Goan agent took his hand and placed an uncut stone in the sweating palm then exchanged it for a cushion-cut diamond ring magicked from among his robes saying quietly, "This is not for everyone to know, sahib, but I should tell you, there may not be many more of these diamonds. Each year there are fewer. It is said the serpents now eat them to preserve their heritage."

Ludo swallowed a grin and gestured with a hand to attract the agent’s attention. Half-convinced, half-enthralled, and knowingly walking into an enticement worthy of his own invention, Ludo stepped forward and cocked his head to one side enquiringly. The agent retrieved the ring from the Englishman and put it in Ludo’s open palm then whisked a heart-shaped ruby from thin air and put it next to the ring.

Ludo’s hand was broad but there was barely room for the two wonderful gemstones. The agent picked the ring from Ludo’s hand, leaving only the ruby to burn through his palm in the warm light of the coloured awnings.

"A gem worthy of a queen, sahib," the agent murmured.

Worthy of a queen... it is indeed, Ludo murmured. This was what he wanted: this ruby. But it is too much for a humble merchant such as me.

"No, sahib, this ruby is for you. This is what you seek."

Ludo shot him a surprised glance. The agent’s expression was open, generous, but two black-bead eyes under a startlingly white turban bore into Ludo, hypnotising him, holding his gaze.

"You must know, sahib, a ruby of this quality has such virtues from the sun that a man living in ignorance or consumed by sin, or pursued by mortal enemies, is saved by its wearing. When stones such as this are found they are named: this is ‘Rani Saahasi’. There is no perfect translation that I know in Portuguese. In English you could call it ‘Queen of Courage’."

Ludo forced himself to look away, shook his head to clear his vision and pulled himself back to the multi-coloured market place. But his fingers clenched the ruby of their own accord: the stone, as red as pomegranate seeds, as cool as the waters of Kashmir, sang in his palm. He had to have it.

No, he said. No, I cannot risk my small income on a bauble such as this.

The Englishman’s jaw dropped. Ludo willed him to move away, not wanting to risk haggling against the flushed-faced mister as well. The Englishman stayed exactly where he was.

Reluctantly, Ludo held out the ruby saying, I seek smaller, uncut gems... As he spoke a set of long-nailed, hairy fingers plucked the stone from his palm and the thief escaped round the trunk of the nearest tree.

A troop of other practised thieves appeared above, peering with the faces of buffoons between the different coloured awnings, then scrambling helter-skelter from branches or shimmying like circus performers down supporting wooden props. The Goan agent screeched, not unlike the unwanted visitors, and grabbed the corners of his open cloth on the low table behind him, hugging the rapid sack to his bony chest so no more of his valuable goods could be taken. Suddenly there was a commotion around the bullock cart carrying water; a thief had upturned the clay cups and made off with a jug, carrying it awkwardly on three legs for she had a baby on her back. Her sister, meanwhile, discovered a display of brass incense holders and bells. Seizing as many as she could, she began to juggle, the bells ringing into the air then clanging to the soft mud beneath her feet. Then up went a candlestick, and then another and another, caught by one cousin and tossed to an uncle who, brandishing it as trophy, bared his teeth at the buyers and headed for home.

But as he went, more of his clan arrived, targeting push-carts, floor mats and head-rolls, some stealing arm bangles and pushing them up their thin, hairy arms before running back up the tree trunks into the branches and awnings, or jumping on tables, scattering wares that had crossed perilous oceans and scorching plains to be brought undamaged across mountains and marshes down to Goa.

Ludo started to laugh at the shock and surprise of the invasion, then stopped as if the scene were frozen in time when the ruby he so coveted dropped to his feet from above.

Choke on it, choke on it! the monkey cursed, for it was inedible and he did not want it.

Slowly, slowly, hardly believing his luck, Ludo bent to pick up the gem. His right hand closed over it and it was his.

But it was not.

He started to walk out of the covered square, but his legs would not move. The ruby held him to the spot, telling him perhaps that a man living in ignorance or consumed by sin, or worse—pursued by a mortal enemy—is saved by its wearing. Ludo did not believe he was consumed by sin or that he lived in a state of ignorance. He was pursued by enemies—one, possibly two, or even three if you counted the ridiculous Count Hawk—but he was no thief. No common thief, anyway.

Stretching out an arm like a conductor bringing a concerto to a close, Ludo patted the Goan agent on the shoulder. Your ruby, master, he said.

The merchant smiled a black-toothed grin. "You see, sahib, it is for you, for has it not returned to your hand already? Grasping his precious sack with one hand, he folded Ludo’s fingers around the stone with the other, saying, It is my belief that though you may give this gem as a gift or sell it to another, it will come back to you again and again—and one day stay forever."

Again, Ludo felt himself drawn into the Goan trader’s words, and again he pulled himself away. If that is so, I would own it first by honest means. Tell me your price.

And so the haggling began, fortunately without the Englishman, who had hastened away in fear of the mischievous monkeys—who themselves had disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

Less than an hour after he had entered the annual marketplace, Ludo had been relieved of what remained of his carefully accrued Dutch gold and Spanish silver. Leaving in something of a daze, he returned to Dona Leonora’s house carrying two special bizalho boxes designed for the carriage of jewels from Goa and various chamois pouches rattling gently with all manner of uncut stones. A cushion-cut diamond ring was tucked deep into one of his breeches pockets—perhaps for the lovely, very wealthy Portuguese widow, Leonora. In another he had a heart-shaped ruby named ‘Rani Saahasi’: Queen of Courage.

Chapter 2

Gently dropping a cotton sack of mixed feathers, mostly peacock, on the floor of the godown, Ludo cast around the open space. Various men and women were sifting and sorting dried ginger, peppercorns, and a dozen other spices to be shovelled into sacks and transported by his ships across the oceans to Lisbon. The air was full and heavy with aromas; it was also stiflingly hot. Keeping a watchful eye open for the twelve-foot python Leonora encouraged as a rat-catcher, he moved a tall ladder under a ventilation window then climbed up carefully, for the ladder was none too new. As the shutter swung open hot, damp air rolled in. Ludo took a deep breath, studying the crowded view of verdant treetops, then remembered what the treetops were likely harbouring and descended hastily to the floor.

Picking up his featherweight sack he wandered through the warehouse, stopping at different open barrels, wicker baskets and crates to enjoy the sharp tang of cloves, the unmistakable combination of mace and nutmeg, to run his hands through a sack of red and green peppercorns, enjoying how single hard grains could form liquid silk as they ran through fingers. Somewhat lost in the moment, he became aware of voices, Portuguese voices, and moved back to the wall to stand in the shadow, still mindful of the dreaded python.

Two men, overdressed for the oppressive humidity, were conversing in low voices as they moved at their ease between the spices. One pushed his hand into an open sack of peppercorns as Ludo had done and made a comment. The other man, shorter, younger perhaps, consulted a list, laughed and pointed at a pyramid of cinnamon bales. The two men stopped speaking and bent over the mound of stitched sacks, each containing roll upon roll of delicate cinnamon bark. Ludo tried to identify what they were saying, Portuguese being a language he had not fully mastered despite spending an entire year sailing in and out of Goa.

The owner of the Gasca Figaroa spice business, the lovely widow Leonora who had hired him to transport her cargo, appeared at the entrance to the godown, hands clasped before her in an unmistakable gesture of distress. The smaller of the two men, the one holding the list, looked at her and said something. His tone was disrespectful. His compatriot took a folding knife from a pocket and slit open a bale of cinnamon. Sniffing the contents, he then pulled a short, tightly tied bundle from the bale.

This isn’t cassia, he said. How did you get it?

It is from our plantation in Ceylon. It is dried there and packed ready for sailing. It all belongs to us—that is, to my late father’s business.

"My question remains: how did you get it? Portuguese ships have been turned away from Colombo for months by the Dutch, how did you get in?" He added something else that Ludo didn’t catch and stared accusingly at the young widow.

Setting down the sack of feathers again then removing the straw coolie hat he’d taken to wearing, Ludo stepped forward and said in Spanish, for Spain held dominium over Portugal, "Buenos días, caballeros, may I be of assistance?"

The two men stared at him in surprise then exchanged glances. The one with the list said, We are officials of the Casa da Índia in Lisbon.

I’m pleased to hear it. And you are inspecting our next cargo because...?

The ‘our’ threw his interlocutor, as Ludo hoped it might. The taller man came to his assistance. Simón Gomes Solis, he said, removing his elegant hat. My colleague, Armando Duarte Solis y Solis, he waggled the plumed headgear at his companion. We are authorised to assess and control all cargo destined for Lisbon in order that it may be accounted for accurately on arrival.

That is not what you told me! Leonora’s face flushed. You said you were confiscating it.

"And why might they do that, cariño?" Ludo asked, turning to Leonora, whose face now flared red with embarrassment. Ludo looked her in the eye, willing her to play along.

She lowered her lashes and said, My brother-in-law, my late husband’s brother, that is, sent them.

Asked us to visit, Gomes corrected her. Which we would have done anyway.

To assess what is here, added Solis y Solis, this being such a... He searched for words.

Large—successful—competent business? Ludo suggested.

The man made a moue with his black-moustachioed mouth then turned to Gomes for help. None came.

May I ask what authority you have sirs, to… er… ‘assess’ the commodities here? Ludo asked, his face open, ingenuous.

Gomes’ eyes narrowed like a theatre villain, making Ludo bite his inner lip.

"We are factors for the carreira da Índia trade, Gomes stated self-importantly. A correct list of the entire cargo must be drawn up before the goods are loaded for Lisbon. It is normal practice."

It is what I always do, have never failed to do, Leonora said quietly.

Gomes ignored her. All cargoes out of Goa belong to Portugal.

And Portugal belongs to Spain, Ludo added. "Meaning there is no reason to confiscate Doña Leonora’s goods for they will eventually reach Lisbon, God willing, and be taxed there accordingly—to the benefit of the Spanish crown, am I not right?" Ludo cocked his head to one side.

"Meaning we can and will requisition the lady’s goods because she is a subject of the Spanish crown, as you so rightly say, added to which, this firm no longer has a licensed owner, Gomes replied. By precedent established in the reign of the late Philip the Second we are entitled to requisition the entire business, the owner being deceased."

The firm of Gasca Figaroa is mine now. I inherited the company from my father, Leonora said. The two men gave her pitying smiles. She turned to Ludo. It is a matter of religion. My father was a New-Christian.

And that means...? Ludo asked, although he knew very well what it meant, for Leonora had told him how she was harassed for her religion, obliged to worship at the Catholic church as often and as openly as she was able to dispel the persistent rumours about her family being "Judiasers", Christian converts who still practised their Jewish faith. From what he had seen in the past year, he believed Leonora was no Judiaser, but truth carried little weight in gossip about a wealthy, good looking, young widow, who also ran a business with numerous male employees—and hired him to fetch and carry her goods.

It was Leonora who answered his question. "It means they can take what they wish or I will be denounced to the Inquisition—simply because I am a New-Christian—in their eyes.

"And how can that apply if you are wed to a Genoese merchant, who has been licensed, indeed contracted by the King of Spain’s Chief Minister, the Count-Duke of Olivares, to bring the royal cargo safely into a home port, cariño? I do not follow."

Leonora’s dark eyes opened in a combination of surprise and something else Ludo didn’t want to acknowledge. He glared at her, willing her to continue with his ruse, then turned to the men and said, "The lady here is, as she says, of a New-Christian family—three generations, was it not, cariño? But who bothers with this anymore? Of course, confiscating a successful business can provide funds needed to pay for wars and also, let us not forget, finance the Inquisition. As I mentioned, I am Genoese and a member of a banking family operating in Madrid and Seville, so naturally I have insight into these matters. Perhaps being Portuguese and living so very far from Spain you were not aware of how your taxes and confiscations are employed, gentlemen."

Gomes stared at Ludo, challenging him with his eyes, but Ludo won the game and he was obliged to say, Of course we know it.

Then perhaps you should also know that this business is soon to be mine in accordance with a marriage contract, and, as I said and must repeat, being a citizen of the State of Genoa, and your good king beholden to bankers of that very state for his finance, I am also working towards the same goal: we do need the King of Spain to repay his loans, after all. Ludo took a quick glance at the two men, calculating how far they were falling behind his quick reasoning. Satisfied that they were getting lost, he continued a little more hastily, "After all, and as I said earlier, the tax on these goods will help provide for the Catholic armies fighting heretics in the Low Countries. Naturally I can see that you, being Portuguese, may not approve of the arrangement, indeed, you may not like the King of Spain or his chief minister, not an easy man to deal with I know from personal experience, although, speaking such thoughts aloud is tantamount to treason and I’d hate to put you in that situation... Gomes opened his mouth to speak and Ludo raised an eyebrow, saying, Better we change the subject, hmm?"

The shorter one holding the list stepped forward. This is outrageous! How dare you accuse us of... But he was unable to finish, having not comprehended what Ludo was suggesting.

Ludo gave a warm smile. Shall we proceed with your inspection, then? So you can finish your report and we can load our cargo. By the way, how long do these reports, lists, manifests—hah, a tripling!—take no notice, I have a friend, who happens to be an English priest, would you believe, who likes to speak in trinities—where was I? Oh yes, how long do your missives normally take to reach Lisbon?

Neither of the men wished to reply, but Gomes said reluctantly, By ship, five or six months.

Obviously by ship—how else?—although one could cross overland to Aleppo, I believe. But that is in the hands of the infidel, so best we say little about Aleppo, or Constantinople. Ever been there? Fascinating place. And there is always the risk the ship will not reach port, is there not? It is a perilous voyage. I trust you have completed a round voyage yourselves. Oh, the horrors of the Cape—pirates off Zanzibar, pirates off Pemba—confronted them myself—and then if you even get to the Canaries there are the Salé Rovers to contend with. Less of a voyage, it is more a game of chance, is it not?

Ludo’s rapid patter left the two men reeling but they managed to nod their heads. Before they could think of anything to say, however, Ludo was off again. Six months each way, of course your report only has to go one way, but then will it even be delivered to—who is it you’re reporting to?

Ah... erm... Gomes and Solis responded in unison.

Ludo gave his lopsided grin. "Six months, eh? Dona Leonora and I will be married well before that—is that not so, cariño? Leonora glared at him again, eyes glowing with controlled anger. Yes, well, Ludo added rapidly, I digress. What do you gentlemen have left to review, by the way? The spices? Indigo? Lacquers? There are fabrics in the other godown ready for loading, pronto, pronto, in my ships once the rain ceases. I do hate having to worry about damp cargoes before one even sets sail."

Leonora moved to Ludo’s side to say something, but he flashed her a warning glance.

Gomes, choking back a spluttering rage, placed his hat on his head. We shall say good day to you then, sir. Forgive me, you said you were?

I said I was and I am—Ludovico da Portovenere, silk and spice merchant to Spain, Genoa, Tuscany, England and parts of the Levant, and very soon to be the lucky recipient of this delightful lady’s hand in marriage. He took Leonora’s hand—for the very first time—and brushed his lips above her knuckles.

The two men stared at him with undisguised loathing. Gomes said, Ah, da Portovenere... yes.

They had evidently heard his name from somewhere and not in a positive light. Ludo sighed: he should have sailed on to Manila and Cathay as he had planned two years before, but the widow Leonora had needed him, and she was so lovely... He looked at her, then at the thin-faced, mean-spirited Portuguese standing before them. Lifting Leonora’s cool hand, he said, "Are you happier now, cariño? Then he turned equably to the Portuguese cousins. Was there anything else? Feel free to look—I can accompany you myself, if you wish."

Finally catching up with what was really going on, Armando Duarte Solis said, We must have your assurance that this cargo will go to Lisbon, not to Genoa or anywhere else. As officials of the Casa da Índia here in Goa, we require you to present us with your ship’s manifest prior to sailing.

Yes, so you say, Ludo replied.

Gomes gave him a withering look. It would not do, sir, to cross us, he said. We are not without powerful connections ourselves.

"Religious connections," Solis y Solis added.

Ludo bowed wordlessly in response.

Irritated, perhaps thoroughly annoyed, the taller of the two hissed, Come, cousin, we have finished here—for now.

Ludo watched them go, his face a picture of equanimity, his mind racing through a plan to create two ships’ manifests and pack two-thirds of the widow’s cargo into the hold of a creaky old carrack named La Magdalena instead of his galleon, Tulip. He could then sell her goods, untaxed, where he chose, for he was damned if he was going to let the Solis cousins get a single maravedí to finance their comforts. All the fuss about receiving an itemised manifest before Leonora’s goods were even loaded suggested they were fiddling the books somewhere along the line—replacing Leonora’s list with one of their own, most likely, so they could arrange disposal of unspecified goods in a manner to obtain profits on what was not on the list that actually arrived in Lisbon. The Portuguese in Goa were a tricky lot, but Ludo was, as he had so proudly claimed, a Genoese, and therefore at least one step ahead of any financial jiggery-pokery.

Ludo’s rapid plan also circumvented another difficult issue. He had been greatly concerned about sailing into Lisbon, where he had stolen the Tulip from under the harbour master’s nose—now he wouldn’t have to. The Magdalena could disembark the listed Gasca Figaroa goods and he could sail straight on for Plymouth with all the rest.

Giving way to a smug grin, Ludo looked around to speak to Leonora but she was walking back towards her late father’s house. She had left without a word. For a few moments he studied the retreating figure then picked up the feathers in their loose cotton bag and followed, a slight swagger of satisfaction in his step.

It was short-lived. The lady was furious.

As soon as he was shown into her office and the door closed behind him, Leonora turned on him angrily. That was completely unnecessary and impertinent in the extreme. You have no right to say we are to be married, not without discussing the ruse with me. And as a ruse it will not work. Indeed it will make my situation worse—if that is possible.

Ludo bowed his head, which perhaps was not the reaction Leonora had been expecting, so she continued, "Furthermore, my cargo is destined for Lisbon because my agent will be there waiting to unload it and take payment for the sales. He is officially licensed and has a long-standing agreement with our firm. There will be no changes, no deliveries elsewhere. As a New Christian I cannot risk any form of scrutiny or suspicion. This is how the Portuguese spice trade works—this is how my late father’s business works. All that nonsense about the chief minister of Spain and marrying me... Really! Do you expect any of us to believe it?"

It’s not entirely untrue: I am acquainted with Olivares. I was at one time what you might call his ‘chosen man’. Unfortunately—Ludo’s thoughts drifted back to a disagreeable reality—our agreement did not go quite according to plan. His plan, that was. "But yes, I see, madonna. I spoke without thinking, forgive me."

To Ludo’s surprise, Leonora’s face fell. She clasped her hands together once more and said very quietly, You haven’t been wooing me, then, for... for matrimony?

Caught between hurting the lady’s feelings and a moment of truth, Ludo grasped words from the air. "How could I dare aspire, madonna? He dropped the bundle of feathers onto a chair and raised his hands in a typically Latin gesture. You with so much and I a mere.... What could I offer you?

Rather a lot, from what you have just been telling my countrymen. Leonora sat down heavily.

The houseboy appeared at the door with a laden tray. Waiting while he set it down on a low brass-topped table then left, Leonora picked up an exquisite black silk fan and gently moved it to and fro. Eventually she said, I should ask you to leave, cancel our verbal agreements. You have made my situation here... impossible. These men will speak to my priest to verify what you said, they will alert people, who will inform them when no ceremony takes place, not to mention all the trouble that will come if our spices are not registered in Lisbon. We have a standing agreement with an agent there. He will be suspicious.

"Ships sink, madonna. The cargo might not reach Lisbon because of a cyclone or a dozen other hazards I mentioned earlier. I wasn’t joking—the voyage is perilous."

I know that—we lost a ship last year. Or at least that’s what they had me believe. A fortune went down with it. The year before, our payment in silver failed to arrive... I do know about the hazards of the deep.

Ludo lowered himself into a low bamboo chair, rattling the arms a little to ensure it could take his weight.

Leonora flicked her fan pensively and continued, Truly, I do not understand why you have caused so many problems for me after all the trouble you and your crew went to running the blockade to bring our cinnamon out of Ceylon.

Ludo gave a crooked grin. "An adventure, madonna: I love outwitting the Dutch. And you have to admit, dyeing the carrack’s sails with your own indigo and bringing your cinnamon out under the Dutchies’ very bows at night was a stroke of genius. My Spanish friends Toxo and Javi deserve the praise, of course. They sailed the ship, I merely provide the strategy."

And that is what you think you are doing now, is it?—providing a strategy that will impoverish if not imprison me?

"Allora, madonna! Have I not saved you from having your cargo confiscated? Would they have taken all of it, by the way? What gives them the right?"

Because, according to them, the business has no owner. My father has died, my husband has died, the business therefore has no valid owner and, according to them, they can requisition it.

Not now, they can’t.

I wish I could believe you, but honestly you have set them against me with an even stronger desire to acquire my father’s firm. They hate us New Christians—especially when we do well.

But the frenzy about pure blood has died off, Leonora, largely thanks to that old fox Olivares. He’s even using Portuguese Jews as bankers to limit the hold we Genoese have over the Spanish Crown. Frankly, I can’t see why the Inquisition needs to be active here at all.

Well, they are. Very active. My family on both sides have been Christians for more than three generations but we still suffer appalling threats. They use any excuse to extract money and benefits—and succeed. Cargoes from Goa—our cargoes—can more than triple in value once unloaded in Portugal. Men like the Solis cousins will do anything they can to get hold of even some of our spices. Leonora sighed. I suppose I should thank you for trying to help me, but the fact is these officials will always have the upper hand, legitimate or not.

Ludo scowled. There has to be a way round it. We can’t alter your religious situation—albeit the logic of punishing a person who actually chooses to be a Christian defeats me—but we can remedy your situation regarding the business.

How? I can’t marry just anyone and lose all my father and husband worked for that way.

Ludo flinched at the slight. Getting to his feet, he said, "Give me a few hours. I’ll see you for the evening meal, if I may, and we can speak again then. In the meantime, please do me a favour. Make two lists: one with as much as can be loaded into the carrack Magdalena for Lisbon; another that will include pepper and spices, fabrics and the like to go into the Tulip’s hold to sell in England. I will load that in with the goods I have purchased myself and find a secure way to compensate you once your pepper and spices are sold."

But—

Please. Ludo gave her one of his most winning looks. "I must get back to the Tulip and talk to the captain now or I would stay to help, but the sooner we sail, the better—don’t you think?"

Leonora flicked her fan this way and that, then sighed and placed it, folded, on her lap. I suppose so, she said.

Good. Picking up the bundle of feathers, Ludo started to leave then stopped. "Here’s a thought: why not sell all the cargo before it leaves Goa? Offer it to those two rogues at a knock-down price and take what you can for peace of mind."

Ludo, I shall lose a fortune! You know how much pepper fetches in Europe. It’s worth thousands of cruzados alone.

Yes, I know, Ludo huffed. I have been selling silks and spices myself for many years, remember. But would you not prefer to receive less money and live more peacefully in comfort here in Goa?

Leonora looked at him, genuinely surprised. What is the point of that?

Well, you could live as a respectable widow here and—

Die of boredom.

Quite. I see your point. Not to worry, we’ll sail within a week. After that there’s nothing you can do but organise the next cargo.

The same thing will happen once you have gone. They won’t tolerate a woman running a business, not when I am doing better than anyone in the colony. Leonora tapped her left hand with her fan. They will destroy me sooner or later, Ludo. The Solis cousins were sent by my late husband’s younger brother. He will do anything to get his hands on ‘Gasca Figaroa’.

Why would he do that to his late brother’s wife?

"Because she is childless. When I refused his kind offer to care for me, he made an official claim to the business, saying it is his inheritance because I have no son. It is not his inheritance because Pedro, my husband, was my father’s employee. The firm was my father’s: he made it prosperous from nothing when he left Portugal."

But is that not a solution to your problems? Marry the brother-in-law and let him take over.

I do not like him. Besides, he is already married. Please be aware, he will probably interfere more now, as a result of what you said earlier to his friends.

Ludo sighed. He was getting angry. His voice dry and serious, he said, "I have travelled more than half way round the world to this harbour, survived all