“Nothing more than you know. He’s just a broker of middling skills.”

“You have no idea who his clients are?”

“That is one thing Ricardo does well: he keeps quiet. He’s very popular among men who don’t want to pay a moment before they choose to pay. I don’t think Ricardo would risk tricking you outright, but it could be another month or even more before he pays. I heard he once sheltered a client for more than a year.”

Miguel had no intention of waiting a year. “I would blacken his eye if I thought he wouldn’t go running to the Ma’amad. Trouble from the council is the last thing I need while I work out this business with coffee.”

“Are you still committed to that project?” Nunes let his eyes wander around the room.

Miguel felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle. “Of course.”

“Maybe now is not the best time,” Nunes suggested, half swallowing his words.

Miguel leaned forward. “What are you telling me-that you can’t get what you promised? By Christ, if you can’t, you had better tell me who can.”

“Of course I can get what I promise,” he answered hastily. “I’ll not promise what I can’t do. Even the East India Company would not cross me.” An idle boast, of course.

“I am utterly certain that the East India Company would not hesitate to cross me,” Miguel said, “but I hope you would.”

Nunes let out a nervous sigh. “I only wondered if perhaps, now that you have made a little money in whale oil and are feeling confident, it might be a poor time to invest in something so full of risk. Why not make yourself safe?”

“My brother tried to warn me off coffee too,” Miguel said.

“I’m not trying to warn you off,” Nunes assured him. “If you suggest your brother put me up to this, you are wrong. You know how little I value him. If Parido did not befriend him, he’d be without two stuivers to buy bread. I just don’t want to see you lose in a risky venture.”

“Just do what I pay you to do,” Miguel said, loud enough to make his friend cringe.

On the walk home, he’d begun to regret his words to Nunes. Miguel had lost a great deal of money, and the loss had hit him hard. His friends were right to worry about him, and he had not exactly told Nunes the truth about his coffee venture. He would find Nunes tomorrow, apologize by buying him a few tankards, and the matter would be forgotten.

On entering his brother’s house, Miguel found his plans for a quiet retreat quickly dashed. Daniel sat smoking a pipe in the front room with Hannah, who appeared lost in thought, oblivious to her husband.

“A word, please,” Daniel said, with a little more urgency than his brother liked. “I must speak to you for a moment. Leave the room, wife.”

Hannah picked up her glass of mulled wine and retreated to the kitchen, stealing a glance at Miguel. Their eyes locked for an instant, but she turned away first. She always did.

Daniel rose to meet his brother. He held up a few pieces of paper, which looked very much like letters. “You received these today.”

Miguel took them. The letters appeared on the surface nothing special, but Miguel already recognized the hand on one of them: Joachim.

“That’s the one,” Daniel said, noticing Miguel’s frown. “I can see, just from the handwriting, that the letter is written by a Dutchman. I wonder at your receiving such communications, and receiving them in my house as well. Is this some man for whom you broker? You know that these transactions with gentiles are illegal.”

Miguel checked to make certain that the letter was unopened, but the seal was of simple wax. It could easily have been broken and sealed again.

“I see nothing wrong with receiving any letter at my place of lodging.” He would soon control all the coffee in Europe; even having this conversation was beneath him. “Do you suggest that you never have need to communicate with Dutchmen? All your affairs, from your banking to the acquisition of wall paintings, are transacted only with Jews?”

“Of course not. Please don’t bombard me with absurdities. But I don’t think this letter is of such a nature, and I wish to know what it contains.”

“So do I, but I have not read it.” He leaned forward. “I wonder if you can say the same. I might remind you that we’re no longer in Lisbon,” Miguel said after a moment. “Here a man need not keep so suspicious an eye on his brother.”

“That’s not the point. I charge you to open that letter in my presence, so its contents may be revealed before the community.”

Revealed before the community? Had Daniel grown mad and come to believe that Parido had steered him to a seat on the Ma’amad?

“Shall I translate it for you as well?” Miguel asked. “Would Portuguese or Spanish be more to your liking?”

“Am I to be upbraided for not speaking the language of gentiles?”

“Of course not. Let us continue our conversation in Hebrew. I’m sure your mastery of the tongue is superior to mine.”

Daniel began to turn red. “I think you forget yourself. Now open the letter, if you please, unless you have something to hide.”

“I’ve nothing more to hide than any man of business,” Miguel returned, unable to choke back the words he knew he could not afford to utter. “My letters are my own concern.”

“My wife is with child. I won’t have strange Dutch letters plaguing her quiet.”

“Of course.” Miguel looked downward to hide his mirth. His wife’s quiet surely existed independent of any Dutch letters that came to the house. “If you like,” he proposed, knowing he was now being provoking, “I’ll have all my letters directed to a tavern, where it will be the barkeep’s task to protect his own wife’s quiet.”

“No,” Daniel answered, too quickly. “No, perhaps I shouldn’t interfere with your business. A man has a right to order his own affairs.”

“You are very kind.” Miguel had not meant for his words to sound quite so bitter.

“I only inquire into your business out of curiosity. Brotherly curiosity, you know. For example, I should love to learn more of this coffee trade you mentioned.”

Miguel felt the tingle of panic. “I told you, I have no such trade.”

“Let’s be open with each other. I’m certain it must be a safe topic within these walls.”

“I have no plans,” Miguel said as he walked away, “but if you think the coffee trade so promising, I’ll be certain to look into it.”

Miguel passed through the kitchen, where Hannah and Annetje busied themselves with moving carrots and leeks from this place to that in an effort to appear as though they had been tending to the meal and not listening at the door.

Once in his cellar, he struck a few candles and then ground some beans with the mortar and pestle he had not yet returned to the kitchen, and which had not yet been missed, and heated some wine. Only once he had poured the mixture into a bowl and allowed it to settle did he break open the letter from Joachim.

Senhor Lienzo,

When we spoke earlier, I may have grown unnecessarily heated. Nevertheless, I think you will agree that my anger is well justified and that you indeed owe me more than you have been willing to admit. Therefore, please accept my regrets. I wish you to know I am glad that we may enter into a matter of business that will serve our mutual interests. I remain your servant,

Joachim Waagenaar

He took a sip of his drink, though he might have been drinking beer for all he noticed the bitterness. Surely this man was far madder than Miguel had imagined. Had Joachim understood nothing of their conversation, even his own part?

After folding the letter and placing it upon the fire, Miguel went through the rest of his correspondence, which included more troubling lines from the Muscovy trader, who, it seemed, had taken to writing twice a day now. Miguel had not the heart to reply to these meddlesome words and, instead, took out his new pamphlet, but the tricks of Charming Pieter held no allure for him.