A Column of Fire by Ken Follett Page B

turned back to Dan. ‘So why would you sell the cargo now?’
    A sly look appeared on Dan’s round white face. ‘We need the money for another investment.’
    He was not going to say what. That was natural: if he had come across a good business opportunity he would not give others the chance to get in first. All the same, Rollo was suspicious. ‘Is there something wrong with your cargo?’
    ‘No. And to prove it we’re prepared to guarantee the value of the furs at five hundred pounds. But we’ll sell the cargo to you for four hundred.’
    It was a large sum. A prosperous farmer owning his land might make fifty pounds a year; a successful Kingsbridge merchant would be proud of an annual income of two hundred. Four hundred was a huge investment – but a guaranteed profit of a hundred pounds in only two weeks was a rare opportunity.
    And it would pay off all the Fitzgerald family’s debts.
    Unfortunately, they did not have four hundred pounds. They did not have four pounds.
    Nevertheless, Rollo said: ‘I’ll put it to my father.’ He was sure they could not make this deal, but Sir Reginald might be offended if the son claimed to speak authoritatively for the family.
    ‘Don’t delay,’ Dan said. ‘I came to you first out of respect, because Sir Reginald is the mayor, but there are other people we can go to. And we need the money tomorrow.’ He and the captain moved away.
    Rollo looked around the nave, spotted his father leaning against a fluted column, and went over. ‘I’ve been talking to Dan Cobley.’
    ‘Oh, yes?’ Sir Reginald did not like the Cobleys. Few people did. They seemed to think they were holier than ordinary people, and their walkout at the play had annoyed everybody. ‘What did he want?’
    ‘To sell a cargo.’ Rollo gave his father the details.
    When he had done, Reginald said: ‘And they’re prepared to guarantee the value of the furs?’
    ‘Five hundred pounds – for an investment of four hundred. I know we don’t have the money, but I thought you’d like to know about it.’
    ‘You’re right, we don’t have the money.’ Reginald looked thoughtful. ‘But I might be able to get it.’
    Rollo wondered how. But his father could be resourceful. He was not the kind of merchant to build up a business gradually, but he was an alert opportunist, keen to grab an unforeseen bargain.
    Was it possible he could solve all the family’s worries at a stroke? Rollo hardly dared to hope.
    To Rollo’s surprise Reginald went to speak to the Willards. Alice was a leading merchant, so the mayor often had matters to discuss with her; but the two did not like one another, and relations had not been improved by the Fitzgeralds’ rejection of young Ned as a potential son-in-law. Rollo followed his father, intrigued.
    Reginald spoke quietly. ‘A word with you, Mrs Willard, if I may.’
    Alice was a short, stout woman with impeccable good manners. ‘Of course,’ she said politely.
    ‘I need to borrow four hundred pounds for a short period.’
    Alice looked startled. ‘You may need to go to London,’ she said after a pause. ‘Or Antwerp.’ The Netherlands city of Antwerp was the financial capital of Europe. ‘We have a cousin in Antwerp,’ she added. ‘But I don’t know that even he would want to lend such a large sum.’
    ‘I need it today,’ Sir Reginald said.
    Alice raised her eyebrows.
    Rollo felt a pang of shame. It was humiliating to beg a loan from the family they had scorned so recently.
    But Reginald ploughed on regardless. ‘You’re the only merchant in Kingsbridge who has that kind of money instantly available, Alice.’
    Alice said: ‘May I ask what you want the money for?’
    ‘I have the chance to buy a rich cargo.’
    Reginald would not say from whom, Rollo guessed, for fear that Alice might try to buy the cargo herself.
    Reginald added: ‘The ship will be in Combe Harbour in two weeks.’
    At this point Ned Willard butted into the conversation. Naturally, Rollo