Eliza said, “If you play into the comte d’Avaux’s hands so easily, by diverting your affections from Mary-what use will you be when you sit on the throne of England?”

Monmouth drooped and looked at Bolstrood.

“I didn’t tell her, exactly,” Gomer Bolstrood protested, “I only told her what commodities we wish to purchase.”

“Which was enough to make your plan quite obvious,” Eliza said.

“Doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Monmouth said. “As we cannot make the purchases anyway without putting up some collateral-and in our case the collateral is the throne.”

“That’s not what I was told,” Eliza said. “I’ve been assuming the account would be settled with gold.”

“And so it will be- after.”

“After what?”

“After we’ve conquered England.”

“Oh.”

“But most of England is on our side, so-a few months at most.”

“Does most-of-England have guns?”

“It’s true what he says,” put in Gomer Bolstrood. “Everywhere this man goes in England, people turn out into the streets and light bonfires for him, and burn the Pope in effigy.”

“So in addition to purchasing the required commodities, you require a bridge loan, for which your collateral will be-”

“The Tower of London,” Monmouth said reassuringly.

“I am a trader, not a shareholder,” Eliza said. “I cannot be your financier.”

“How can you trade, without being a shareholder?”

“I trade ducat shares, which have one-tenth the value of proper V.O.C. shares and are far more liquid. I hold them-or options-only long enough to eke out a small profit. You will need to skate about forty miles that way, your grace,” Eliza said, pointing northeast, “and make connections with Amsterdam moneylenders. There are great men there, princes of the market, who’ve accumulated stacks of V.O.C. stock, and who will lend money out against it. But as you cannot put the Tower of London in your pocket and set it on the table as security for the loan, you’ll need something else.”

“We know that,” Bolstrood said. “We are merely letting you know that when time comes to effect the transaction, the payment will come, not from us, but-”

“From some credulous lender.”

“Not so credulous. Important men are with us.”

“May I know who those men are?”

A look between Bolstrood and Monmouth. “Not now. Later, in Amsterdam,” Bolstrood said.

“This is never going to work-those Amsterdammers have more good investments than they know what to do with,” Eliza said. “But there might be another way to get the money.”

“Where do you propose to get it from, if not the moneylenders of Amsterdam?” Monmouth asked. “My mistress has already pawned all of her jewels- thatresource is exhausted.”

“We can get it from Mr. Sluys,” Eliza said, after a long few minutes of staring into the fire. She turned to face the others. The air of the lodge was suddenly cool on her brow.

“The one who betrayed his country thirteen years ago?” Bolstrood asked warily.

“The same. He has many connections with French investors and is very rich.”

“You mean to blackmail him, then-?” Monmouth asked.

“Not precisely. First we’ll find some other investor and tell him of your plan to invade England.”

“But the plan is a secret!”

“He’ll have every incentive to keep it secret-for as soon as he knows, he will begin selling V.O.C. stock short.”

“That, ‘selling short,’ is a bit of zargon I have heard Dutchmen and Jews bandy about, but I know not what it means,” Monmouth said.

“There are two factions who war with each other in the market: liefhebberen or bulls who want the stock to rise, and contremines or bears who want it to fall. Frequently a group of bears will come together and form a secret cabal-they will spread false news of pirates off the coast, or go into the market loudly selling shares at very low prices, trying to create a panic and make the price drop.”

“But how do they make money from this?”

“Never mind the details-there are ways of using options so that you will make money if the price falls. It is called short selling. Our investor-once we tell him about your invasion plans-will begin betting that V.O.C. stock will drop soon. And rest assured, it will. Only a few years ago, mere rumors about the state of Anglo/Dutch relations were sufficient to depress the price by ten or twenty percent. News of an invasion will plunge it through the floor. ”

“Why?” Monmouth asked.

“England has a powerful navy-if they are hostile to Holland, they can choke off shipping, and the V.O.C. drops like a stone.”

“But my policies will be far more congenial to the Hollanders than King James’s!” Monmouth protested.

Bolstrood meanwhile had a look on his face as if he were being garrotted by an invisible cord.

Eliza composed herself, breathed deeply, and smiled at Monmouth-then leaned forward and put her hand on his forearm. “Naturally, when it becomes generally understood that your rebellion is going to succeed, V.O.C. stock will soar like a lark in the morning. But at first the market will be dominated by ignorant ninehammers who’ll foolishly assume that King James will prevail-and that he will be ever so annoyed at the Dutch for having allowed their territory to serve as spring-board for an invasion of his country.”

Bolstrood relaxed a bit.

“So at first the market will drop,” Monmouth said distractedly.

“Until the true situation becomes generally known,” Eliza said, patted his arm firmly, and drew back. Gomer Bolstrood seemed to relax further. “During that interval,” Eliza continued, “our investor will have the opportunity to reap a colossal profit, by selling the market short. And in exchange for that opportunity he’ll gladly buy you all the lead and powder you need to mount the invasion.”

“But that investor is not Mr. Sluys-?”

“In any short-selling transaction there is a loser as well as a winner, ” Eliza said. “Mr. Sluys is to be the loser.”

“Why him specifically?” Bolstrood asked. “It could be any liefhebber.”

“Selling short has been illegal for three-quarters of a century! Numerous edicts have been issued to prevent it-one of them written in the time of the Stadholder Frederick Henry. Now, if a trader is caught short-that is, if he has signed a contract that will cause him to lose money-he can ‘appeal to Frederick.’”

“But Frederick Henry died ages ago,” Monmouth protested.

“It is an expression-a term of art. It simply means to repudiate the contract, and refuse to pay. According to Frederick Henry’s edict, that repudiation will be upheld in a court of law.”

“But if it’s true that there must always be a loser when selling short, then Frederick Henry’s decree must’ve stamped out the practice altogether!”

“Oh, no, your grace-short selling thrives in Amsterdam! Many traders make their living from it!”

“But why don’t all of the losers simply ‘appeal to Frederick’?”

“It all has to do with how the contracts are structured. If you’re clever enough you can put the loser in a position where he dare not appeal to Frederick.”

“So it is a sort of blackmail after all,” Bolstrood said, gazing out the window across a snowy field-but hot on Eliza’s trail. “We set Sluys up to be the loser-then if he appeals to Frederick, the entire story comes out in a court of law-including the warehouse full of lead-and he’s exposed as a traitor. So he’ll eat the loss without complaint.”

“But-if I’m following all of this-it relies on Sluys not knowing that there is a plan to invade England,” Monmouth said. “Otherwise he’d be a fool to enter into the short contract.”

“That is certainly true,” Eliza said. “We want him to believe that V.O.C. stock will rise.”

“But if he’s selling us the lead, he’ll know we’re planning something. ”