The Coffee Trader (24 page)

“The Ma’amad is a political body,” he said. “Among the Tudescos, there are rabbis who give the Law to the politicians, but among us it is the other way. Sometimes they forget the glory of the Holy Torah; they forget why we are here, the miracle of our being living Jews rather than dead ones or living papists.” He took a final sip of his coffee and then set down the bowl. “I thank you for your company,” he told her, “but I must now go. I have an appointment to keep.”

“How can you have appointments while under the ban?”

He smiled warmly. “I am full of secrets,” he said, “just as you are.”

Maybe he knew everything after all—the church, the widow, everything. As she watched him go, she thought she must tell him. Regardless of the consequences, she must tell him. Then she could tell him about the widow too, and her life would be in his hands. As she sipped her drink, she considered that to have her life in his hands would not be so very terrible at all.

The first thing Miguel saw when he walked into the Singing Carp was Alonzo Alferonda, his squat form spread out toadlike on a bench, speaking quietly to a pair of low Dutchmen. He rose upon seeing Miguel and hurried over on his short legs. “Senhor,” he called out eagerly, “I am delighted to hear of your victory.”

Miguel looked around, though he was inclined not to worry about Ma’amad spies on a day when technically he was not a member of the community. “I hardly expected to see you here.”

“I should like to buy you a drink to celebrate your victory over the Pharisees.”

“Another time, perhaps. I’ve a meeting just now.”

“You run some errand of the coffee trade?” Alferonda asked.

“This coffee trade will be my undoing. Parido cornered me on the Exchange and demanded to know my dealings in coffee. I refused, and before I could turn my head I stood before the Ma’amad.”

“Oh, he’s a tricky one, but the greatest way to foil him will be for you to succeed in your business.”

Miguel nodded. “Let me ask you something, Alonzo. You know more about coffee than I do; you’ve been drinking it for years. I read in a pamphlet written by an Englishman that coffee suppresses the urges of the flesh, but I have been feeding some to my brother’s wife, and she seems rather animated by it.”

“Your brother’s wife, you say? Ho, Miguel, you are more of a rascal than I had thought. And I commend you, for she is a pretty thing, and now plump with child too, so you needn’t worry about unfortunate results.”

“I have no plans to cuckold my brother. I have problems enough. I only wonder if the coffee may be the difficulty with her.”

“You cannot cuckold a man whose wife you cannot get with child, but we’ll set that aside for the moment. I’d advise you not to put too much faith in those English pamphlets. Those people will write anything to sell their scribblings. Here is something I do know, however. When the queen of Sheba came to visit the court of Solomon, among the gifts she brought him was a great chest full of the most exotic spices of the East. That night, after the palace had gone to bed, King Solomon was so full of desire he forced himself on her.”

“I have heard the story,” Miguel said.

“Among the Turks it is said that the chest of spices included coffee berries, and it was this fruit that spurred his lust. I would feed your brother’s pretty wife no more coffee fruit unless you want to follow Solomon’s path.”

“Only in wisdom.”

“It is always wise to take a handsome woman when there will be no consequences.”

“I don’t know if I would say that it is wise to do so. Only desirable.”

“Then you admit it,” Alferonda said, poking his finger gleefully in Miguel’s chest.

Miguel shrugged. “I admit only in seeing beauty where there is beauty and finding it a sad thing when it is neglected.”

“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.”

23

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.”

“I know what you are going to say”—Miguel held up a hand—“and do you think I would come seek you out like this if I had no intention of paying you? I promise you the money will be there in two days. Three at the latest.”

Nunes sighed. “You did not seek me out. I came to you. And you’ve made promises before.”

“I expect any moment to receive the money I need,” he lied. “All will be made easy. You’ve not a thing to worry about.”

It was Miguel who had not a thing to worry about. The business had been contracted with the East India Company, and it could not be canceled. Nunes would simply have to float the five hundred guilders for a little while. He had the money; it was no hardship for him.

Miguel decided it was time to set the next phase of his plan in motion. He visited a broker, with whom he had done business before, and bought coffee puts to be due in ten weeks’ time, thereby guaranteeing himself the right to sell at the current high price. Miguel wanted to buy a thousand guilders’ worth of puts, but the broker seemed reluctant to advance Miguel so large a loan. Having no other choice, he used his brother’s name as security. There could be no harm in doing so; Miguel would profit from his puts and pay the broker without Daniel ever learning what his brother had done.

“I’ll need to send a letter to your brother confirming his agreement,” the broker said.

“Of course. My brother, however, has a tendency to let his correspondence sit for days. Mark the outside of the note, if you would, with a circle, and I will see he addresses your concerns immediately.” Miguel would have Annetje keep an eye out for the note. It should be easy to keep it from attracting Daniel’s notice.

Once the transaction had been completed, Miguel fought off the queasy remorse. Certainly it was tricky, putting his brother’s money at risk, but everything was in hand. He would not have been so desperate if his brother hadn’t demanded payment on the loan at so rotten a time. It would be one thing if Miguel had been struggling, but never before had he known the market so well as he did now. And with coffee he would be creating and shaping the market, not merely responding to it. The price of coffee would go down because he would make it go down. Daniel’s money could not be safer.

He expected the news of his puts to travel fast, but he did not expect it to travel quite so quickly as it did. One hour later, as Miguel shuffled out of the Exchange and onto the Dam, Solomon Parido appeared by his side. He smiled politely, with no signs of resentment over what had happened before the council.

“I hope I have not violated any rules today,” Miguel said. “Appearing on the Exchange without properly greeting you, perhaps. I expect I’ll receive another summons before long.”

“I expect the same.” Parido laughed softly, as though making light with a friend. “You must not think there was anything of a personal nature in what transpired in that room with the Ma’amad. I merely acted in accordance with what I believed to be right and proper.”

“Of course,” Miguel agreed flatly.

“However, your likening the Ma’amad to the Inquisition—that will make you no friends. There are too many in this city who have lost loved ones to the Inquisition.”

“You forget that the Inquisition took my father; I know what it is, and so does my brother. If he ever sees things as I do, he may not be so quick to follow you blindly.”

“You judge him too harshly. He only wishes to do what is best for his family, and that family includes you. I suspect he will be very proud of you when he learns of your brilliant scheme in the East Indies trade.”

“My scheme?” Miguel studied his face for some sign of what might be coming.

“Yes. I had no idea how clever you were, but now I see in its fullness your plan. Wait until the price of coffee rises because of the growth of demand, and then gamble a large sum of money you do not have on the price falling. Yes, very clever indeed.”

Miguel smiled back. Parido knew nothing but what Miguel had intended the world to learn, though he had learned it with disturbing speed. “I’m glad you approve.”

“I hope nothing happens to make the price rise again in ten weeks’ time.”

“I hope so too,” Miguel told him. He would not appear too clever or too confident. Let Parido believe he knew Miguel’s plan, rather than look for more. “You think the price will rise, but I’ve heard that since I wagered, others have followed suit and more will follow. We’ll see what sort of momentum has begun.”

“I suppose we will,” Parido agreed, clearly thinking about something else already.

There was another note from Joachim when he returned home. Another note in that uneven, drunken hand.

If you speak to my wife again, I will kill you,
it said.
I will creep up behind you so you won’t know I’m there and slit your throat. I’ll do it if you again approach Clara.
There were two lines that had been crossed out, and then underneath he wrote,
In fact, I may just kill you anyway for the pleasure of revenge.

The note had a kind of manic sincerity. Had Miguel’s silly banter with Clara (how could she have been so stupid as to tell him about it?) pushed her husband over the edge? He cursed Joachim and he cursed himself. It would be a long time before he would again feel at ease.