Swan leaned forward. ‘I will pay. In a matter of hours.’

The silversmith was obviously offended.

‘I recognise that you do this mostly out of a desire to be a patriot,’ Swan said. He phrased it as carefully as he could, watching the man’s face.

Immediately. the other man smiled. ‘I do not like to talk about money,’ he said. ‘I do this for the love of my island and hatred of the Turk – understand?’

‘Of course,’ Swan said.

The silversmith handed over two sheets of good Egyptian paper. ‘Ship names and crews. A few officers’ names, and some important personages aboard. He sold to six ships and ended aboard Omar Reis Pasha’s flagship. He will sell more tonight. And the Turks will summon the town to surrender, and the island. What do you think?’ the man asked suddenly.

At the mention of Omar Reis, Swan stiffened. He felt his heartbeat increase. He looked out to sea with studied calm and scratched the base of his chin. ‘Dorino will never 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 Swan. ‘You can ride?’

‘Slowly,’ Swan allowed.

Zambale laughed. ‘I’ll have a dozen men-at-arms and spare horses,’ he said. ‘I have friends in Kalloni with boats.’ He made a Greek gesture with his arms and thumbs. ‘Who knows? If God wills it so, perhaps we will not swim.’

Swan nodded. ‘One hour,’ he said.

Zambale bowed in all directions and left the inn.

Domenico waited until they could hear Zambale’s voice in the yard. ‘Well, lad?’ he asked.

Silently, Swan handed over the sheets of paper with the silversmith’s careful Greek letters nearly covering both.

Domenico’s Greek was apparently very good. His eyes moved rapidly, even while Fra Tommaso was sounding out ship’s names in Turkish.

‘Where did you get this?’ he asked Swan. He raised his eyes, and they met Swan’s.

Swan swallowed. It was not a tone he’d heard before from the pirate. It cut like a sharp sword.

Swan shrugged. ‘I have friends,’ he tried.

Domenico’s expression didn’t change. ‘I’m sure you know a great variety of attractive young women in every port, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you’d bedded three or even four since you arrived. This is a well-penned report by a professional, who notes even the number of archers on the Turkish galleys.’

Swan wanted to hold the other man’s gaze, but he couldn’t. Domenico had an almost magical ferocity that wilted him.

I did think about this before handing over the report, he thought.

Fra Tommaso was still sounding out the names. He looked at Domenico. ‘You must know he works for Bessarion,’ he said quietly.

Domenico nodded. ‘I want to hear him say it,’ he said.

Swan looked at them both.

Domenico raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

Swan took a deep breath. ‘I collect information,’ he said.

‘And antiquities?’ Tommaso said. ‘For Cardinal Bessarion?’

Swan sighed. ‘If I were to concede that something of the sort was true, I would still insist that what I do is of no danger to the order and in this case is actually to the order’s benefit.’

Domenico whistled. ‘I thought you were a spy – but then you fought so well.’

Tommaso threw his hands in the air. ‘Why do we care? I like the boy. He’s got moments of honesty and honour to him, and otherwise he’s a poor sinner like the rest of us. Angelo, you cannot imagine he’s going to sell you to the Turks.’

Fra Domenico looked at Swan. ‘Someone is selling us to the Turks,’ he said. ‘Men would kill for this list,’ he went on. ‘You know why?’

Better to be hanged as a lion than hanged as a lamb, Swan thought. He met Domenico’s glittering eyes.

‘It all but proves who is the traitor,’ he said.

Domenico tugged his beard and looked out to sea. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You know there is a traitor?’

Swan drew himself up. ‘Cardinal Bessarion sent me on this trip to identify the traitor. He must have known already.’

Fra Tommaso pointed at the Turkish fleet. ‘Everyone in the eastern Mediterranean knows who the traitor has to be,’ he said. ‘It is not so much about catching him. He’s more powerful than …’ Tommaso hesitated, apparently searching for a metaphor. ‘The Pope,’ he managed. ‘It is a dirty business. And no one should jump to conclusions.’