Tom Swan and the Head of St. George Part Six: Chios by Christian Cameron Page B

surrender,’ he said, wondering whether that was, in fact, the way the prince would behave. Wondering whether he was the silversmith’s only customer for information. ‘The information is … excellent.’ His eye caught a name, and he translated it several times in his head, sounding it out. ‘Is this an Italian name?’ he asked.
    The silversmith frowned. ‘Draviero,’ he said with his Ionian pronunciation.
    Swan looked at him. ‘There is an Italian gentleman with the Turkish fleet?’
    The smith nodded. ‘The gentleman was rude to my brother-in-law while his steward bought lobsters through a stern window. And he demanded that my brother-in-law tell no one.’ The man smiled at the naive ways of the world.
    Swan smiled. And had the glimmering of an idea, even while he tried to imagine how and why the Genoese ambassador was aboard a Turkish warship. ‘A captive?’
    The silversmith nodded, obviously delighted at Swan’s delight.
    Swan looked at the table a moment. ‘I need a guide to Kalloni tomorrow. And I wonder …’ Swan was trying to find a way to flatter the man, to engage his interest. ‘I wonder if you would make me a piece of jewellery?’
    The smith nodded. ‘Business is not so heavy,’ he admitted.
    Swan sketched what he wanted.
    The jeweller frowned. ‘The stone engraving is beyond me,’ he said. He flicked his front teeth with his thumbnail. ‘In silver, you say?’
    ‘Gold plated,’ Swan said.
    ‘Oh.’ The man shrugged. ‘Silver gilt. Costume stuff.’
    Swan shrugged in turn.
    The jeweller looked about. ‘I will ask around. The head of Herakles in a clear crystal? It is not impossible to find such a thing.’ He flicked his teeth. ‘I’m thinking a hundred ducats here.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I know where there is a head of Athena in a crystal. Roman, I think.’
    Swan rose and bowed. ‘For a hundred ducats I could buy half this town,’ he said. But then he shrugged. ‘Athena is too feminine. But if there is nothing else …’ He felt foolish, spending money on such a tenuous plan. On the other hand, it provided him with a painless way to repay his informant. He sat back. ‘I might find that much money,’ he admitted.
    ‘I have a boy who will guide you to Kalloni,’ the silversmith conceded. ‘He can show you the ruins as well.’
    Swan’s intention was to make an excuse to return to the palazzo, but by the time he reached the hostel where the knights were staying, the Lord of Eressos had joined them – a Graeco-Scot lord, at home in Greek or Italian or slightly accented English or perfect church Latin. Zambale bowed to Swan.
    ‘The English prince. Madama Theodora sends her best wishes and a small token.’ He handed Swan a small envelope.
    Swan bowed and looked at Fra Tommaso.
    The older knight nodded. ‘The Lord of Eressos has offered to be your companion – all the way to Chios. He wishes to serve us as a volunteer.’
    Swan bowed again. ‘I will be at your service,’ he said. ‘As soon as I pay my respects—’
    Fra Domenico failed to hide a sneer. ‘No need, my boy. I’m sure that Prince Dorino understands the press of our business.’
    Swan had an answer ready. ‘Sir – I understand, but I promised the English owner to represent him to the prince.’
    ‘And Madama Theodora, as well, no doubt,’ Fra Tommaso said. ‘Please allow me to protect you from yourself. There is no wind and likely to be none tomorrow, either. Please go and warn Chios, and put some heart into them.’
    Swan cursed inwardly with a boy’s peevishness. At that moment, he hated the Turks for interrupting his lovemaking and the order for their own share in his endless chastity.
    But he knew his duty. He bowed. ‘My lords,’ he said. He flicked his eyes at the Lord of Eressos.
    Fra Domenico caught his gesture.
    ‘My lord, if you have any arrangements to make, I’ll ask you to set off after nones,’ he said.
    The Lord of Eressos bowed deeply. He grinned with a minimum of offence at