Hannah closed her eyes, not knowing what to think, or even how. Miguel had forgiven her. He understood her. He had taken her hand and kissed it. Could she dare to hope for more than that? Oh, what had she done to deserve such mercy? She slid a hand down to the comforting bulge of her belly, caressing this unborn child, this daughter, whom she would protect from all the evil that threatened them both.
When she opened her eyes, Annetje stood before her. Her face was immobile, jaw thrust outward, eyes little more than slits. Where had she come from? Hannah had heard no one climb the stairs. The girl could do that; she went in and out of rooms like a ghost.
“You told him,” Annetje said, so quietly Hannah could hardly hear her.
She briefly considered lying, but what good would it do? “Yes,” she said. “I thought it important he know.”
“You foolish bitch,” she hissed. “I told you to keep quiet.”
“You must not be angry with me,” Hannah said, hating the tone of pleading in her voice, but there were things far more important than that tiny shriveled thing she called her pride. “The doctor said that I must not grow warm in temper, lest I risk the child.”
“The devil take your child,” Annetje said. “I hope he does, along with the rest of you heathen Jews.” She took a step closer.
Hannah pulled the comforter up to protect herself. “He won’t betray us.”
Annetje now stood over her, looking down with her cold eyes, green as the eyes of an evil spirit. “Even if he does not, do you think the widow will honor his silence? And do you think he is so clever that he can avoid betraying you, even without so meaning? You’re a fool, and you ought never to be allowed to have a child in your care. I came here with the intention of thrusting a knife up your quim and killing that wretched child of yours.”
Hannah gasped and pushed herself backwards.
“Oh, calm yourself. You are as timid as a rabbit. I said I came up here with that intention, but I have since changed my mind, so you needn’t move about like that. I only hope you are grateful that I am not seeking a more fitting punishment. And you’d better hope that the senhor is as good at keeping secrets as he is at learning them, because if you are betrayed, you can be sure I’ll not help you. If need be, I’ll tell your husband all I know, and the lot of you may go to the devil.”
Annetje hurried out of the room. Hannah listened to her feet slap clumsily against the stairs and then, in the distance, the slam of a door.
Hannah took a deep breath. She felt her pulse pound in her temples and she concentrated on soothing her anguish. But even more than fear she felt confusion. Why did Annetje care so much if Miguel knew about the widow? What did it matter to her?
Hannah shuddered. Why had she not seen it before? Annetje was in the widow’s service.
Within two days the doctor permitted Hannah to rise from her bed, but things had grown uncomfortably tense in the house. No one spoke more than a few words at a time, and Miguel remained out of the house as much as he could. On Shabbat he invited himself to the home of a West Indian merchant with whom he maintained a friendly acquaintance.
Not all had turned sour, however. He had received a message from Geertruid saying that she had gone to visit relatives in Friesland. She would be back in Amsterdam any day, but in the meantime she had heard that her man in Iberia had secured agents in Oporto and Lisbon and now traveled to Madrid, where he felt sure of success. The news was good, but nevertheless troubling in light of Hannah’s story. What secret could Geertruid have that she wanted kept from her partner? Did he dare trust her? Did he dare do otherwise?
He had received a few notes from Isaiah Nunes, who was finding it difficult to conjure up language that sufficiently expressed his irritation. He wanted his five hundred guilders, and the bonds of friendship that restrained him were growing increasingly frayed. Miguel had no difficulties penning his replies, which made vague promises of immediate action.
Meanwhile, the price of coffee continued to go up, stemming, Miguel believed, from Solomon Parido’s influence. He bought calls in anticipation of an increase, and he made it known that he bought them. On the Amsterdam bourse, that was enough to alter the price. Merchants who had hardly ever noticed coffee now began to gamble on its continued rise.
But Miguel still had no idea what Parido planned. Would he entice his trading combination to exercise the calls and buy large quantities, making a monopoly even harder to obtain? Further, such a move would destroy the value of Miguel’s puts, ruining his chance to erase his debts and putting him further in debt to his brother. But Parido’s strategy would have to be approved by all members of his combination, and most were not content to make business plans based on the desire to shame a rival. Buying calls would cause the price to rise even further, and since the market would become artificially inflated, the combination would have a hard time selling at a profit. Parido might not have the strength of his combination behind him, but he might happily content himself with the thought that Miguel would lose on his investments.
At the Flyboat that afternoon, Miguel turned and nearly collided with Isaiah Nunes, who smiled in the awkward manner of a guilty child. Miguel had been drinking coffee almost constantly that day, and he felt equal to anything, so he approached the merchant and embraced him warmly. “How are you, my friend?”
“Just the man I’ve been looking for,” Nunes said, without a hint of irritation.
“Oh? Whatever for?”
Nunes laughed. “I wish I had your easy way about you, Miguel. But come with me for a moment. I need to show you something.” He led Miguel to the back of the tavern near a window, and in the muted light he spread out a piece of paper he removed from his coat. It was his contract with Miguel.
“I hate to be so particular with you,” he said, “but I must bring some of the wording to your attention.”
Miguel had felt full of optimism as he strolled along the canal sides, his puts bought (though illicitly, with his brother’s money), Joachim no longer a problem (if he wished to unleash Hendrick), his agents in place (if he could trust his partner)-but now, confined in the dark tavern, the energy of the coffee began to work against him. He wanted to move, but it was hard to breathe. The quick words came not so easily as they once had. “I know what you have to say, my friend, and if you will but-”
“Hear me out, and then I will hear you. It is only fair, yes?” Nunes did not wait for an answer. “You see what it says here, of course.” He smoothed out the contract and pointed to a few neat and closely written lines. “It says that you will pay half the delivery cost upon demand of the agent-being myself-when such a price is demanded by the provider-being the East India Company.”
Miguel nodded eagerly. “I understand the terms-”
“Please. Let me speak.” Nunes took a breath. “You see the wording. It says here that the money must be paid when the Company demands it, not on the date of delivery. The Company may demand payment when it agrees to sell the goods and deliver them by the earliest date convenient. You understand that, yes?”
“Of course I understand that,” Miguel said, “and I have every intention of getting you that remaining five hundred guilders. I know you have had to advance the money out of pocket, but I assure you it will be forthcoming.”
“I am sure it will. I only wanted you to understand the terms of the contract because there has been some rather troubling news.”
This contract business had been irritating, but he now realized that Nunes had been building up to something. “How troubling?”
“I hope not too troubling. These things can always be resolved, I think.” He kept his voice steady, his back erect, like a man awaiting a blow. “I fear your shipment will be delayed.”